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| photo courtesy of -liyen- |
It was twilight and the wind, breezy. August, a local priest, just started his daily walk on a beach in Algeria.
He normally enjoys taking these walks, for he was also a philosopher, and he finds the sound of waves crashing on the shore soothing and conducive to deep thinking.
He normally enjoys taking these walks, particularly catching the first rays of sunrise; every time seems like the first, and he never forgets to offer a prayer of thanks as he marvels at the beauty of the scene.
He normally enjoys taking these walks, but not this day; for today he was in mental agony searching for an answer to one of the deepest mysteries of his faith - the Trinity.
He normally enjoys taking these walks, for he was also a philosopher, and he finds the sound of waves crashing on the shore soothing and conducive to deep thinking.
He normally enjoys taking these walks, particularly catching the first rays of sunrise; every time seems like the first, and he never forgets to offer a prayer of thanks as he marvels at the beauty of the scene.
He normally enjoys taking these walks, but not this day; for today he was in mental agony searching for an answer to one of the deepest mysteries of his faith - the Trinity.
“Three equals one!? How is this possible?” He ponders, shaking his head as he looks down at the rough, golden brown sand; his left hand touches his chin, slightly ruffling an unkempt beard.
His train of thought was all of a sudden interrupted by a peculiar sight: a boy walking towards the sea. Peculiar indeed, as August did not expect seeing another soul in such early hours, much less that of an unaccompanied boy, who he reckons, is no older than 7 years of age. Stranger still, is what the boy seems to be doing: using a seashell, he scoops water from the sea and pours it into a tiny hole, which August assumes, the boy dug on the sand. August watched as the boy repeatedly did this; tirelessly walking back and forth between the sea and the tiny hole. Finally overcome with curiosity, August approached the boy and asked:
“Child, what are you doing?”
The boy, seemingly startled and oblivious until then of someone else’s presence, stopped and turned to look at the middle-aged priest. August now had a clearer look of the boy’s face: he had chubby cheeks and short, curly brown hair. A more innocent looking face, August could not remember laying eyes upon, yet the boy had a piercing stare that elicited from the priest a feeling he did not expect: fear.
“I’m pouring the contents of the sea into the hole” the boy finally responded in a matter-of-factly manner.
August can’t help but laugh at the absurd answer and said:
“But child can’t you see? What you’re attempting to do is impossible!”
To which, the boy replied, with a voice sounding typically like that of a child’s but somehow with the authority and conviction of an adult:
“I will sooner fill the hole with the entire sea than for you to comprehend the mystery which you’re contemplating.”
After the boy had spoken, a sudden wind gust blew across the beach; August slightly turned his head, covered his face with his hands and closed his eyes to protect them from sand. When the wind settled, August opened his eyes and found he was alone on the beach: the boy had vanished.
The sun had just started to rise on the horizon, its first rays shining on August’s face.
