By Mike Haran
The cooling mountain air brings relief to Brother Sempronius as he glimpses the monastery among the olive grapevines. Hefting the leather satchel off his shoulders, he reverently lowers it onto the ground.
Brother Gregory awaits in the cloister, hood low on shoulder, anxious to examine the treasure.
On the pungent grass, the holy images, now allowed by the orthodox Holy Synod in Constantinople, glow as the sun climbs above the vines. Causing Brother Gregory to utter the words of the pagan Socrates—Is a thing holy because the gods worship it, or do they worship a thing because it is holy?
A thoughtful story. Nice, quiet, and to the point. Gives one pause for thought. I like it.