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The Temple Thief


....



The torch beam danced along the temple walls, casting an uncertain yellow penumbra on the irregular surface. The light was growing fainter now; Brendan had been unable to afford another set of batteries, and the light flickered as it traversed another empty niche and came to settle on the last moveable idol, a stony, graven image of Buddha sitting impassively in a corner.

Brendan felt sweat on his palm making his grip on the torch clammy and passed it from one hand to the other. Then he walked forward, towards the statue. Despite himself, Brendan could not totally prevent a small shudder passing through him as he neared the idol. The fact that he was going to pick it up in a moment and deposit it with its fellows in the large sack he had left on the floor behind him did not rob it of its essentially awesome quality.

There was something ominous about the statue's unblinking repose; something fearsomely self-contained, as if the idol was assured of its eventual triumph over all forces of evil, from atheists to temple thieves.

Not that Brendan was, or ever had been an atheist; religion had been in his bloodstream ever since he could remember. But crime was an economic necessity and one could not let one's scruples, religious or otherwise, interfere with one's necessities. If God could not fill his belly with divine action, Brendan was surely justified in using God to fill his purse- and his belly- by actions which if nothing else had a context of divinity.

And being a temple thief was so much better, and safer, than being a pick-pocket or a rapist. In many ways a respectable line -- stealing from the exponents of religion to sell to connoisseurs of art. Once more, Brendan studied the statue, trying to ignore the clutch of fear that stabbed his heart as he contemplated its fate.

For an irrational moment he wondered whether he needed to take it all. The temple had been stripped bare already; his sack was almost full. Would one statue make that much of a difference? But as he asked himself the question he knew what his own answer would be. In his profession he could not afford to be finicky.

He laid his hands on the Buddha.

The strange unmoving countenance stared back at him, he felt mockingly. Do you really think you are going to get away with this? It seemed to ask. Do you believe that you, a mere mortal, and a common thief at that, can capture me? The knot of fear in his chest tightened suddenly and the torch went out. Cursing, he banged it against his palm, and the light shone straight into Buddha's face. Startled, Brendan almost dropped the torch.

posted by sin @ 8:56 PM