"Why? What crime has he committed?" asked Pilate. But they shouted all the louder, "Crucify him!" When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. "I am innocent of this man's blood," he said. "It is your responsibility!" All the people answered, "Let his blood be on us and on our children!"

This is not a sermon. This is a confession.

I went with my wife to see a movie recently. We were early, and decided to go buy coffee and stroll through town while we drank them. It was a warm evening and the streets were filled with the usual bustle of students and window shoppers. As we walked back to the theatre, we passed one of the town's countless homeless, sat by a tree with a cardboard sign, a scrawled message asking for change.

This is nothing new. He said nothing. He made no eye contact with me, I made none with him. A moment later we were past and we carried on to the movies. It was unremarkable. It was the sort of thing that happens all the time.

This is not a sermon. This is a confession.

It's hard to be a Christian. It's hard. I have a child. In my wife, another baby is growing. To carry the burden of these responsibilities isn't easy. Their weight is something I feel, tangible and quite real and though I shoulder it gladly, it's a responsibility that's hard to forget.

And yet I know. I know what it is, that is right. And to be a Christian is to know failure, daily. Hourly.

The teachings of Christ are simple. If you someone needs your help, give it. Pick up their burden, be responsible for them. Anyone. Don't ask if they a deserving. Don't judge. Don't ask if they are a Christian and most of all, don't ask for anything in return. Do it because it is right.

Nothing else is as important. Not pride, not wealth, not family. Nothing.

It's hard.

How can I believe that, and live any other way? How do I pick up my daughter and know there are children sleeping on the streets of Miami, or London, or Bangladesh? How do I watch a movie and know that there are families who could eat for a week for the price of my ticket? How do I walk past a beggar on the sidewalk and not even look down?

This is not a sermon. This is a confession.

It's not my fault. I didn't make the world this way. Society leaves people out in the cold and rain and forgets them. Parents have children they can't feed, and throw them out to beg in the streets. Generals and politicians steal aid money and buy Mercedes while their hospitals fill with disease.

I don't do those things. I didn't make the world this way. I am one man with a family. I am innocent of those crimes, so don't blame me. It's your fault, world, or God or blind, angry nature.

Not me.

Not my fault.

I know it, but it doesn't matter, because it's not about who sets the burden down. It's about who will pick it up. Christianity is about being, if necessary, the only one prepared to do what's right. And it's hard. Too hard.

Bring me a bowl. My hands are dirty.