Chapter 32: The Weight of Grace, Part 9

Father Anselm took the lectionary from the accolyte and kissed the yellowed pages and closed it, his hands lingering a moment on the carved cover. The incense still drifted in lazy curls above the sanctuary, carrying with it the tang of cedar and spice. The servers returned to their places. The congregation sat in expectant silence, their eyes lifted not only to the altar but to the man who had shepherded them for decades. Sunlight poured through the stained-glass window above the rood screen, spilling over Anselm’s shoulders as he climbed up the stairs into the pulpit. His voice carried a strength that seemed to grow with each breath as he began to preach.

“My children my dear children—sons and daughters whom I have shepherded for a quarter of a century, and distinguished guests from distant stars... today our Lord speaks a word many of us never have believed we could hear: ‘Take heart son, your sins are forgiven.’