While attending Mass as a child, I used to wonder why it was necessary to change the wine into blood. After all, the consecrated bread had become body, and a body already contains blood. Why more blood? I had to wait forty years for my silly question to be ferociously answered by a movie.
In Mel Gibson’s long-awaited, long-dreaded The Passion of the Christ, blood courses across the screen, forms puddles in cobblestone courtyards,...
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