Rob sighed audibly.
They resumed the walk up the hill, passing by a group of dark-skinned visitors. Manuel explained that they were African Seventh Day Adventists who made up a surprising number of the patrons.
“The different denominations and sects all get along here?” Rob asked.
“There is a mutual understanding that nobody steps on each other’s toes,” the monk asserted.
“No petty squabbles?”
“There are complaints sometimes about one group or another taking liberties or expecting preferential treatment. The balance is imperfect, but it has remained so far relatively intact.”
They paused after a time for the fourth station. This one depicted Christ meeting his mother. Behind the figures, the land rose steeply and suddenly into a wall of reddish bluffs. They were alien in their color
