I vividly remember the first time I ever set foot in a Catholic Church.

I must have been nine or 10 and had been invited there by a friend. It was dark inside, so my eyes had to adjust. But when they did, my soul could barely take in what the eyes clearly saw: the bigger-than-life statue of a man wearing thorns and nailed to a cross.
"Oh my God," I thought, "he must have done something terrible."

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