This piece was originally published in Dispatch, a British magazine for long-form storytelling.
The service is nearing its third hour, but no one shows any sign of tiring. In a small chapel on a rocky island off of the west coast of Scotland, the hymns rise and fall, steady as a tide.
Eventually, the priest beckons me forward, holding out a bowl of bread. He is tall, with round glasses and a beard that droops down his torso. His name is Father Seraphim-Oran—and he is leading an Orthodox revival in the ancient home of Celtic Christianity.
“Come here, creature,” Father Seraphim says. “I give this to the ducks and geese, so I can give it to you. You’re almost as worthy as a goose.”
I cup my hands, take the bread, and place it directly in my mouth, careful not to drop a crumb. It’s good to be back.
