I saw Jesus today, strolling among the shops and consumption palaces of suburbia. He was older, maybe in his early 60’s. He wore a tattered old brown suit with a matching, equally tattered hat. He walked slowly, with a cane. He had shoes on, but no socks, and one pant lag was raised to reveal some kind of bandage running up his leg. I stared at him, and when he turned to look at me we exchanged weak smiles, as if neither of us could bear not his shame and embarrassment, but mine. Father, forgive me, for I know not what I do.
