I know, I know — months have passed since the last time I was deemed worthy to write you a couple of lines, but spare a thought for me too, the humble Sexton, and what I endure without your knowing it…
Although my stomach is still conducting difficult negotiations with the Paschal lamb and the tsoureki bread, I found a little time to bring up something an elderly Metropolitan confided to me between bites of cheese and pear.
“Sexton,” he says to me, “I watch with admiration — and a little bewilderment — the newfound flourishing of the ‘digital shepherds.’”
I confess I was left dumbfounded. So I seized the opportunity to ask what the “poet” — or rather the Hierarch — meant.
Although my stomach is still conducting difficult negotiations with the Paschal lamb and the tsoureki bread, I found a little time to bring up something an elderly Metropolitan confided to me between bites of cheese and pear.
“Sexton,” he says to me, “I watch with admiration — and a little bewilderment — the newfound flourishing of the ‘digital shepherds.’”
I confess I was left dumbfounded. So I seized the opportunity to ask what the “poet” — or rather the Hierarch — meant.
