and blessed it.
When the doorbell rang I was somewhat hesitant because a. it was the middle of the afternoon and I wasn’t expecting anyone, b. Paul was at work, and c. Phoebe was sleeping and you hate to have any loud noises at that point. Honestly, that was probably my biggest concern.
But when I peeked through the door hole and saw a priest standing there, bible in hand, I opened up. There indeed stood a man of the cloth who immediately started greeting me in lots of Italian. I think it was my confused face that made him pause to ask if I do speak Italian. Then he offered, “Francais? English?” I picked the latter and in he came.
A very nice man, he simply explained that he was here to bless our home, as they apparently do every year from his parish. He’d already been to the first four floors of our building and was headed for our neighbor’s place next. He speaks three languages fluently and even though he delivered the blessing flawlessly, apologized profusely for his “terrible English”. If only my Italian were so bad.
Together we picked a passage from the bible to read aloud, then he said a prayer and even sprinkled the incense ball with a flick of the wrist. Even though I’m not Catholic, I really enjoyed the moment with him and wondered if I’d have been so receptive to a stranger offering to bless my home if we were in the States. I’ll have to think about it, but in the meantime I’ll file this one under “Only in Italy”.
The Rome Report 