Reverend Mahathera Piyadassi arrived at my house in reddish-orange robes and brown sandals. He walked erectly from decades of meditation and discipline. Slightly above medium height, his head was clean shaven, his thin face shadowed with a hint of gray whiskers. Dark, intelligent eyes studied me. He was in his sixties perhaps and his expression seemed stern except that his lips were generous with smiles. He gestured gently as he spoke, his voice soft and rich, "This is a gift for you."
He handed me a heavy object wrapped in blue silk. I opened the cloth to discover a crucifix fashioned in metal by a master craftsman.
"I knew you would like it," he said, noticing my delight.
"I like it very much," I replied, and admired the shining form of Christ for several minutes. Then my secretary placed the crucifix on a special shelf.