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    Summary

    There was a life-sized crucifix at the church Pucci and his parents attended. Every Sunday, as they sat in the pews and listened and sang along tunelessly with the others, his eyes would inevitably drift up to the crucifix hanging high above the altar. On it, Jesus suffered, his body twisted in pain as blood flowed down his wrists and feet where the nails had been driven.

    Pucci remembers when it changed. He was seven then, sitting in the back pews with Perla and the other children, when he looked at Christ on the cross and realized that He wasn’t just suffering. Jesus was caught in a moment of transverberation as well, tottering on the edge between agony and ecstasy. Pain and joy were nearly the same when you experienced an overwhelming amount of of either. That much of anything and your body would react so violently and so physically, until the lines between those two blurred and then fell entirely. At seven, he understood that when Jesus lifted his head towards Heaven, it wasn't so God would hear him scream, but so God would hear him cry out as he was reborn.

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