What Gods were for

The young priest had been told exactly what to do, and he had been up all night, keeping watch on the sacred things, the first dates anyone had harvested from anywhere throughout the city. They were green and mushy and not particularly appetizing. He preferred them dried, but the goddess wanted the very first and as soon as possible. He was drowsy but attentive as the first light of dawn appeared over the horizon, and gradually he could make out the web of the basket and the sleeping city, with only one or two plumes of smoke rising from the homes of early risers.

The old priest had told him exactly how to do it, and the priest could no longer mount the stairs to the terrace, so he had better get it right. He had thought he would be a little cold in the night because he had been supposed to sit there, in front of the mud brick temple, with absolutely nothing on. But in fact, it was still high summer, although the harvesting of the rest of the dates would stretch into autumn. The night had been almost pleasant after the scorching day. The nakedness was to show his purity to the goddess; it might have been embarrassing except that no one else was around at all. Even the day-shift priests had not yet arrived to clean up the temple terrace and to prepare the rest of the goddess's breakfast. For his was a special offering that had to be made on the dawn after the first pickings were available. So here he was, naked.