Holy Water! Or, There Is An Eastertide In The Affairs Of Men
by John M. Joyce (April 2012)
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I squelched into the Vestry and by the time Henry and the Altar boys joined me for the vesting and its prayers I felt much better about the upcoming service. One should never allow oneself to lulled into a false sense of security!
***
I allowed myself a scant half hour of rest then set out in full dark and very heavy rain for the Church. I doubted that Henry would have managed to start the customary fire on the patch of land just outside the Lych Gate which is kept for this purpose but I was surprised to find that he had done so and that a merry blaze was being sheltered by some sort of large metal roof that looked suspiciously like an old car bonnet (hood) perched on concrete fencing posts and that my procession of Altar Boys and Tony, my Thurifer, were already vested and in attendance. I dashed to the Vestry and made haste to catch up with them. Even though the Church was in complete darkness I knew as I left to return to the fire that I had a fairly large congregation waiting for me.
I blessed the Paschal Candle, and Daniel Levita, my Deacon, and I held it to the flames of the fire until it lit. Under an enormous old umbrella carried by the tallest of my Altar Boys Daniel then carried it very carefully up the path running with water towards the Church. We had just made it into the safety of the South porch when all of a sudden Henry, who was leading the procession, thrust open the inner door and yelled down the Nave:
By this time we had to wade back to the South door but we made it and followed the throng as they, and the rest of the village, galloped, despite the mud, across the Churchyard and up to the Vicarage. As I gained the higher ground I looked back at the Church and was just in time to see the lights go out both there and in the rest of the village.
The floods had won.
***
Reconnaissance parties ventured out every now and again and reported that as far as they could tell the levee in which I had placed so much trust had, in fact, given way almost due North of the Church and that the water, having swept through the village and done its damage was receding rapidly. By round about mid-night the Church was sitting above the draining waters and Henry, Daniel and I decided to go and see how much damage it had sustained. It was still raining but nowhere near as heavily as it had been.
Surprised by those other voices I turned round and found that we three oldsters had been followed by the torch-carrying young bloods of the village who obviously were not going to allow themselves to be outdone in the courage stakes by us. I rapidly swivelled my attention back to Daniel and followed him down the Nave
Attracted by the wavering torch lights and curious about what their Priest could possibly be up to in a flooded Church many more of my parishioners had followed us to the Church.
From somewhere Henry produced small candles and, as custom dictates, he and Daniel lit them from the Paschal Candle and gave one to each person present. Even Miles, who had been hauled back into Church, got one placed in his hand which was carefully closed over it beneath the paper drip-catcher. He registered nothing but just gazed off into space. I offered up a silent prayer for his release.
The medieval tiles somehow broke open and Miles slid, rather than fell, into the opening that had been revealed. We all stood still for just a split second and then as one we rushed over to get Miles up. As we hauled him out of the little hole we all heard him say:
Stunned, we could do nothing but look at him as he slumped in his righted chair moaning slightly.
That time he had said it loud enough to be heard right down the Nave. His mother and his wife came rushing up to him with disbelief written clearly across their faces.
I smiled at him and he tentatively smiled back.
Just then two of the teenagers who had been examining the hole that Miles had ended up in called out in excitement:
***
As is customary I am going to Christen his third child at the Easter Vigil this year. He and his wife live happily up at the Manor and his mother lives in the Dower House. They are all regular attenders at Church.
***
Happy Easter.
Alleluia, Christ is Risen.
Ite, missa est.
Footnotes:
On the title:
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
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Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Henry Providor, my Verger and Sexton, was introduced to you in my last little story about my village and its Church. You can find that story here at New English Review.