Reflections on human suffering
I was in my upstairs office when I heard the doorbell ring. I ran downstairs to open the door, unable to see through the opaque window who was on the other side. I opened the door, and there stood an elderly Black man and woman, well dressed, with leaflets and literature. I immediately recognized that this was an unsolicited proselytization.
“Can I help you,” I inquired. The woman handed me a …