The two elder monks in charge of his induction send him on a task. He must go into the archives and copy all the scriptures in there and not return until he’s finished.
Several days later. The young monk returns and asks the elder monk, “As I was performing my task, I noticed several spelling mistakes in the last monks work, what would have happened had I copied them word for word? Then the scriptures would be wrong”.
The elder monk thinks about this and decides to take it upon himself to ensure all the scriptures and copies are correct, he retreats to the archives.
The other monks don’t see him for weeks. One day, the youngest monk is walking past the door to the archives and hears weeping from within. He opens the door to find the elder monk sitting amongst a pile of old scriptures.
“What’s wrong?” the younger monk asks.
Solemnly looking up from of the oldest, original parchments the archives contain, the rules of the monastic order. The eldest monk replies.
“It says celebrate…. Fucking celebrate”.