Jen Ambrose is back from her China adventures, and if you didn’t read the last couple of weeks of posts, go catch up. Take to time to read her account of Corpus Christi Mass in Hong Kong.

Oh, and since we’re roaming, the globe, Roaming Roman is coming back to the States next week, but has a fascinating post about the papal Corpus Christi Mass last week and then a Sunday Corpus Christi Mass and process in Norcia, which more of you might be familiar with as Nursia, birthplace of Sts. Benedict and Scholastica. It’s a quick post, and she promises more detail and photos later, but what’s she got up now is definitely worth a read.

And then go read Gashwin Gomes’ absolutely wonderful post about a family ritual in which he participated in India

As the aarti went around the room, people extending their hands over the flame, and bringing them to their faces and heads in a fluid gesture, a sign of reverence and respect, I froze. Should I do that? It’s been years since I’ve participated in any Hindu ritual. It happens but on special occasions in the family, and I’ve been away in the US for years. How do I honor the First Commandment?

The last time I had any serious role in a Hindu ritual was … well, I don’t know. [A Satyanarayan katha that was done to celebrate my brother’s admission to IIT. When I was 10. We both sat for hours with the pujari and the part that I recall with painful clarity was that I had to throw one single grain of rice on the coconut for each of the 1001 names of Vishnu.] Since then, I’ve been to Hindu temples and been present at rituals, without participating.

Of course, to some, (the same set that went into apoplectic fits at Pope John Paul receiving a tika on his arrival in India), my very presence in this room contaminates me, and is a participation in idolatry.

Well, no. It’s a family thing. I’m the only Christian in the family. So no, I don’t worship any God but God, and I won’t bow to idols. And I probably will not do the aarti thing. But I can respect my family’s religious beliefs and be present at family fuctions. And yes, I do eat prasad. And of course I’ll say a prayer for my cousin and his wife and the baby.

Oh yeah. What about that laafa? I had to cover my palms in kanku and then gave two light pats on cousin’s wife’s cheeks. And then the maharaj handed a saffron cloth, twisted together to make a whip-like-thing, and I had to slap her back. Five times. Lightly. Woah! "Arrey diyar bahu dayalu che!" (This diyar is very kind!)

The part that I wasn’t told about was that she got to return the slaps.

Boy, it took a lot of scrubbing to get all that red color out!