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That revengeful Easter sermon!

A college freshman was sitting on a campus bench holding an open Bible, shouting: “Hallelujah! God is great!” Before long, a skeptical professor came by, and asked what the young man was reading.

“The book of Exodus,” the freshman replied. “Did you know what God did? I just read that He split the Red Sea and led the whole nation of Israel right through the middle.”

The professor chuckled, sat down next to the young man and shared the latest theories on the Bible account.

“That can all be very easily explained,” the professor said. “Modern scholarship has shown that the Red Sea in that area was only ten inches deep at that time. It would have been no problem for the Israelites to simply wade across.”

The young man was quiet for a moment, his gaze slowly moving from the professor back to the open Bible on his laps. Satisfied that he had set the young man straight, the professor got up to leave.

But before taking two steps, the young man began to shout again: “Hallelujah! God is great!”

Lost for words, the professor asked, again: “Why?”  

“God is greater than I thought!” the freshman continued. “Not only did He lead the whole nation of Israeli through the Red Sea, but also drowned the whole Egyptian army in the 10-inch deep sea!”

This was part of the message the priest shared with us on Easter Sunday. I enjoyed the story, but felt it had no bearing with the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ at hand.

Overall, he made a perfect sermon that almost everyone wanted to tip him but feared it would be interpreted as a bribe. He had earlier cast blame on ministers, politicians and civil servants for turning corruption into a cash crop.

I walked up to him after service, and asked why he had shared the story about the Red Sea instead of the resurrection of Christ. He then pulled me aside and pointed at an elderly man walking to a vintage car.

“You see that old man,” he said. “When I was a little boy, he used to say that I would turn out a failure, and would never listen to me.”

When I asked what that had to do with the sermon, he responded: “I was that freshman, and he was the professor I was talking about. I wanted to remind and show him that he could listen to me without question.”

I had no further questions. I understood why they never ask questions after a sermon; otherwise, the service would never end, or some folks would get punches.

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