The Sunday Sermon and the Sinner
On a brisk, gray Sunday morning in Dublin, the priest was preparing to ascend the pulpit to deliver a thoroughly rehearsed sermon on the absolute evils of alcohol, debauchery, and loose living. At that precise moment, a chap who smelled magnificently of cheap stout, with his jacket utterly disheveled, stumbled into the church. He collapsed onto the very last pew and aggressively unfolded a crumpled morning newspaper.
After enduring fifteen minutes of the priest’s fiery rhetoric, the inebriated gentleman raised his hand and interrupted in a spectacularly slurred voice:
- “Excuse me, Father. A quick point of scientific curiosity, if I may. That chronic arthritis, memory loss, and dreadful shaking of the hands you just mentioned… what exactly causes it?”
The priest, sensing a magnificent opportunity to make an example of him before the entire parish, leaned over the pulpit and pointed an accusing finger:
- “There you have it, everyone! That, sir, is the direct, tragic consequence of lingering in public houses until the early hours, consuming cheap liquor, and leading a thoroughly ungodly life! The Almighty punishes such behavior with those very afflictions!”
The drunkard nodded sagely, muttering, “Blimey… well, he had it coming then.”
The priest, assuming the man was showing signs of repentance, softened his tone slightly. “Are you finally seeing the error of your ways, then? How long have you been suffering from arthritis?”
The man waved his hand, flashed a cheerful grin, and replied:
The priest, assuming the man was showing signs of repentance, softened his tone slightly. “Are you finally seeing the error of your ways, then? How long have you been suffering from arthritis?”
The man waved his hand, flashed a cheerful grin, and replied:
- “Oh, I’m as fit as a fiddle, Father! I was merely reading the morning paper here, which states that the Bishop of our diocese has just been admitted to the hospital with severe arthritis and advanced memory loss. I was simply wondering which particular pub His Grace was frequenting last night to get himself into such a dreadful state.”
The congregation simultaneously turned their heads to look at the back row, while the priest promptly took a rather large gulp of holy water to maintain his composure.
