Spirituality

So I arrived there, at that temple whose floor was packed dirt, the seats were old school chairs, and the ceiling was the starry sky — certainly, there are no paintings or stained glass in the World that surpass that setting. My “beginning” of the Christian walk happened there, at the Tabuleiro Church; a remote neighborhood, unassisted and full of stories of violence. The pastor, a short potbellied man with a striking mustache and an out-of-tune voice, in whose resume he liked to emphasize the experience of having been a shepherd of real sheep. ...

I recently attended a meeting where men dedicated to promoting the general welfare were advising their president, whose head hung heavy, weighed down by various important issues. Although it was a special moment, one of these counselors caught my attention with his relaxed and free-spirited perspective on the various problems presented. Later, while many dedicated themselves to wine and gluttony, I continued to observe my hosts. — Will you not partake of the meat, my brother? — the counselor interjected. ...