They said the altar needs a steady hand, a face unscarred to stand before the flame; the cords of service tied by careful law, a lineage kept whole in priestly name. Not for vanity, nor for cold disdain, but for a sign: the sacred work must be clear, that broken edges do not mar the rite, that every touch be steady, free of fear. Remembered are the rules that mark the role: a calling shaped by limits, bound by care; the body as a banner of the task, a visible vow of reverent repair. Yet mercy threads between the lines of law, a whisper that the heart must also be attentive, humble, learning how to hold the fragile, human work of ministry. So let the hands be healed, the voice be whole, and let the service rise from steady ground; for holiness is not a perfect skin, but faithful labor where the faithful are found.

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