The Gospel of Matthew in the Bible describes Jesus' epic sermon on the mount from Chapters 5 to 7. However, I have always wondered why priests attempt to fit it all in during the 20 minutes that precede the Eucharistic prayer. When we were little it was easier to pass those twenty minutes. As children we would run down aisles, paying no heed to our mother who attempted more than once to seat us on the bench obediently. We would lick the dirt off the church floor, dig our noses, poke the neighbour's kid in the eye and do the merciful duty of distracting everyone in the aisle while the father went on about the good word.

As an adult it's considerably harder. Your eyes droop, your limbs fail you and your neck hangs limply until you awake suddenly to find that the priest is still at the pulpit. You look around and you are met with the disapproving stare of the local auntie who's silently berating you for falling asleep to the word of God. It's sometimes even more unfortunate if you do stay awake. The person next to you may inevitably be snoring away or, heaven forbid, may have drool down the side of their cheek. A lot of Catholics, my family notwithstanding, will be appalled that I'm openly pooh-poohing tradition so as to speak but I'm not. I'm just at loss to understand that why the simple message of doing good deeds needs a verbose discourse that, more often that not, gets lost in translation.