I often feared Him, constantly feeling His vigilant eyes on me. In my mind’s eye, He was an old man with a flowing white beard, His hand gripping firmly around a weather-beaten walking stick. And he ruled over the world from a brilliant golden throne. How and where did I perceive this image? In my catechism class, among other wide-eyed little urchins like me. We hung on to every scolding word that was hurled out of the teacher’s mouth like a raging wildfire. I still envision her wielding her long, bony finger as if pointing it directly at me. Whose vigilant eyes were these? They were the eyes of God.…