Dorotheus was an African hermit who lived in the 300s, for the most part in a cave some 9 miles outside of Alexandria. During the days, Dorotheus would transport rocks to help other hermits build their desert cells. By night, he would engage in weaving small baskets from palm tree leaves that the next day he would exchange at market for bits of bread, on which he subsisted. It is unclear when he slept–perhaps during the heat of the day after obtaining his sustenance. In any case, his hermit friends (almost oxymoronic) encouraged Dorotheus to take a little more rest the older he got.

Dorotheus had one disciple, by the name of Palladius. One day, Palladius went out to draw water from a nearby well for Dorotheus and himself. In the process, Palladius espied an asp in the well. Coming back to Dorotheus, Palladius reported that he was afraid to drink from the water he brought back because the well had apparently become a home for a venomous snake (and maybe even its family).

Dorotheus filled a small vessel with the well water that Palladius had drawn. Butler writes that “the holy abbot making the sign of the cross upon the cup, drank, and said, ‘In the presence of the cross of Christ, the devil loseth his power.'” And, of course, the water satiated rather than harmed our saint.

So…what about this business of making “the sign of the cross”? Is it like garlic with a vampire (or a wooden stake, silver, or a cross, depending your choice of vampire mythology)? Was the snake that found a home in the well actually an agent of the devil? Does making this sign cleanse water of poison/evil spirits or, alternately, make the drinker of the water immune to any harmful properties? Or did it just happen that the cup of water was totally potable all the time, and Dorotheus’ ritual action and words had no effect whatsoever? (And, frankly, had Dorotheus died from drinking it, we’d know nothing about that incident.)

This of course leads to the larger question of whether prayer and ritual have the capacity to change the physical universe. My goal here is to lift the corner on this larger issue–the efficacy of ritual (including but not limited to prayer and sacramental activities) on affecting the world around us. For now, I simply ask: What, if anything, to make of the fact that Dorotheus survived drinking that particular cup of water? It’s a story that has been passed down now for 1700 years, after all.