Yuhanna’s parents learned of what had befallen their only child, and his mother walked to the monastery, leaning on her cane. She threw herself at the feet of the abbot, shedding tears and kissing his hand that he might have mercy on her son and excuse his ignorance.

He replied to her, after lifting his eyes toward heaven like one exalted above earthly things, “We forgive your son’s rashness and are prepared to be magnanimous toward his madness. But the monastery has sacred claims that must be settled. We pardon, by reason of our humility, the missteps of the people, but mighty Elisha does not forgive those who damage his vineyards and let their livestock pasture in his standing crops.”

The mother gazed at him, tears flowing down her time-shriveled cheeks. Then she tore a silver necklace from her neck and placed it in his hand, saying, “I own nothing but this necklace, father. It was a gift from my mother on my wedding day. Let the monastery accept it as a ransom for the sins of my only child.”

The abbot pocketed the necklace, then, while Yuhanna’s mother kissed his hand with gratitude and indebtedness, he said, “Woe unto this generation, for therein the verses of the Book have been reversed: the children eat unripe grapes and the fathers’ teeth are set on edge. Go, pious woman, and pray for your insane son, that heaven might heal him and return him to his senses.”

Yuhanna departed from his captivity and walked slowly before his calves, next to his mother, who bent over her cane beneath the weight of her years. When he reached the hut, he guided the calves to their feed stalls and sat silently next to the window, meditating on the waning light of day. After a little while he heard his father whisper in his mother’s ear, “How often you used to dispute with me, Sarah, when I said to you that your son is emotionally disturbed. Now I don’t see you protesting, since his deeds have proven me right. The dignified head of the monastery himself told you today what I’ve been saying for years.”

Yuhanna kept on looking west, where the rays of the sun were tinting the heavy cloud cover.

II

The holy day of Easter came, and otherworldliness was traded for feasts of delectable foods. The building had been completed of a new, lofty cathedral set among the dwellings of the city of Bisharri, like the palace of a prince standing among his subjects’ shacks. The people were awaiting the arrival of one of the bishops to dedicate it and to consecrate its altar. When they heard that he was approaching, they issued in droves into the street and brought him into the city amidst the cheering of the youth, the praises to God voiced by the priests, the clash of cymbals, and the chiming and pealing of bells. When he dismounted from his horse, which had been caparisoned a brocaded saddle and furnished with a silver bridle, the notables and leaders greeted him with pleasant words, reciting poems and lyrics that began with praise and concluded with accolades. When he reached the new house of worship, he pulled on his priestly robes, embroidered with gold, placed on his head a miter inlaid with gems, and grasped the shepherd’s staff, embellished with rare designs and precious stones. He circumambulated the temple, chanting prayers and formulas of consecration with the priests, as the pleasing aroma of incense rose all about him and a multitude of candles coruscated.