*This book has recently been translated into English and can be purchased at New Gracanica Bookstore
We visited once again the burned temple of the Mother of God. When we entered the temple, the embers of the burned sacred books and icons were still smoldering. The Holy Chalice wrapped in a towel was shining in the embers, miraculously protected from the fire. Suddenly we heard a strange noise coming from behind the altar railing, on which you could still discern the figures of Christ and the Theotokos, blackened by the fire, with drops of condensed resin on their faces. “Maybe the Albanian who burned the temple hid himself in the altar area.” I thought this to myself, expecting a shot from that direction at any moment. When I finally cautiously peeked through the southern door, I saw a terrified lamb which trembled like an aspen leaf in the wind in the soot of burned utensils under the Altar Table! Those days everything was in flames in the deserted village. Only the shots echoed, and the eerie shadows of the Albanian troikas dressed in black moved around, destroying everything that was Serbian. And the lamb? It ran away early in the morning by the burning houses and corrals, flying to the altar to save itself. As I watched it trembling under the altar, it seemed to me I was watching the Christ Himself, “the Lamb slain for the life of the world” offered for centuries right on this very altar as a Bloodless Sacrifice.