A Ritual Worth Preserving

Ritual is the way you carry the presence of the sacred.
Ritual is the spark that must not go out.
Christina Baldwin


“La bendición, mamá,” I ask of my mother as I’m about to leave for the Fresno airport.

I bow slightly and close my eyes. Soon I feel the tenderness of her right palm as she places her hand upon my head to begin the brief ritual that will leave me blessed and commended to la Santa Trinidad—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—for a safe voyage back home.

In the early days of California, la bendición was a tradition among its first Christian settlers, the Californios: men and women from Sonora, México, who had been recruited at the turn of the nineteenth century to help colonize this remote outpost of the Spanish empire. Whenever the sons and daughters of Californios would leave the shelter of their homes, they’d kneel before their parents, seeking their blessing.

As my mother softly utters a prayer, I wonder if this Hispanic custom—which she brought with her from her native Nicaragua—is still being passed on.

Living in Panamá, when life becomes a bit turbulent, I ask for my mother’s blessing over the telephone. And in spite of the vast distance that separates us, I know that her protective veil will reach across our borders to shield me from harm. But as much as I value those prayers, it’s never quite the same as the sacred feeling of her touch. When my mother places her hand upon my head, not only am I sure that I will arrive safely to my destination, but I’m also certain that her blessing will extend far beyond that day, keeping me well and happy for quite some time to come.

This, I’m certain, is a tradition worth preserving.