Racism like Death

Norman Rockwell’s “The Problem We All Live With”

This past Sunday, I sat in the Evreux cathedral, contemplating.

I anticipated the moment when a woman or man would come down the aisle with a small basket and look me in the eye, waiting for a donation. I, like always, would refuse them.

But why? Why could I not donate even a cent? Why had I never even allowed my(adult)self to do it?

What good reason did I have to deny God my money?

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