Jesús doesn’t read well. I sit with him on a Tuesday afternoon as he slowly works his way though the week’s catechism lesson. When he comes to his namesake in the text, he always says “Christ” instead of Jesus. When I correct him, he stops and stares at the page. “I can’t believe I missed it again,” he says.
Jesús is a small and quiet man. He is kind and slow to anger. No one would guess that he was convicted of murder. Before his...
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