The young monk took monastic vows, and in the monastery his first task was to help the other monks copy church codes, psalms and laws by hand.
After working like this for a week, the monk noticed that everyone was copying these materials from a previous copy, and not from the original. Surprised by this, he turned to the abbot:
- Padre, if someone made a mistake in the first copy, it will be repeated forever, and there is no way to correct it, because there is nothing to compare it with!
“My son,” answered the Father Superior, “actually, we have been doing this for centuries.” But, in principle, there is something in your reasoning!
And with these words, he went down into the dungeons, where the primary sources were kept in huge chests, but had not been opened for centuries. And disappeared.
When almost a day had passed since his disappearance, the concerned monk went down to the same cellars in search of the holy father. He found it immediately. He sat in front of a huge open volume made of calfskin, banged his head on the sharp stones of the dungeon and mumbled something inarticulately. Blood was flowing down his face, covered with dirt and abrasions, his hair was matted, and his gaze was crazy.
- What's wrong with you, Holy Father? - cried the shocked young man. - What's happened?
“Celebrate,” groaned the Father Superior, “the word was “celebrate” and not “celibate”**!
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* celebrate - celebrate, rejoice;
** celibate - abstain (sexual abstinence is one of the foundations of Catholicism).
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru