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Brother Andrew was charged with training the other monks in the art of copying precisely by hand the Holy Writs. An eager new scribe, Brother Jonathan, asked if anyone had ever made a mistake.
"Oh, no," Brother Andrew said. "These words have been correctly copied from generation to generation. I will show you the first volume ever written." And he shuffled off toward the monastery's library.
Hours later, Brother Jonathan found the elderly monk sitting alone in a candlelit corner, tears running down his wrinkled cheeks.
"What's the matter?"
"I can't believe it," said Brother Andrew. "The word is celebrate. Cel-e-BRATE!"
"Oh, no," Brother Andrew said. "These words have been correctly copied from generation to generation. I will show you the first volume ever written." And he shuffled off toward the monastery's library.
Hours later, Brother Jonathan found the elderly monk sitting alone in a candlelit corner, tears running down his wrinkled cheeks.
"What's the matter?"
"I can't believe it," said Brother Andrew. "The word is celebrate. Cel-e-BRATE!"
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