As soon as vesper ended, all thirteen monks sat around the wooden table gazing at the sun hiding behind the monastery’s right tower. They took out their prayer ropes. Every knot a wish: “Kyrie Christe Eleison.” They placed them on the table and grabbed the spoons. A simple dish, a jar of honey, a glass of wine, vinegar and olive oil. All blessed by the “Lady of the Angels”. All red, all black, all holly. All marked by the sacred shapes of Orthodox faith. All pure as in the 1500s when the monastery was built.
