I watched the tape of the Filipinos nailing themselves to crosses and winced.
I winced harder at the sight of Muslims whipping themselves bloody on Ashura.
What kind of God makes his followers hurt themselves like that?
I shook my head, closed up the laptop, and headed to my aunt’s house for the family’s Passover feast.
Usually, my mom cooked, but my aunt insisted this year.
I parked the car, and as I stepped on to the porch…
Oh, god! The stench!
Got a spare cross handy? How about a chain?
I’ll suffer anything but having to eat this crap!