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In the name of the Father, the Son
and the Holy Ghost. Amen.
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Dearly beloved.
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A few days ago
I was sitting on the train to Hasselt.
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Opposite me
was a man reading his newspaper.
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The man looked like a labourer,
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from a farming family.
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He was wearing
patched but clean working clothes.
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But the newspaper he was reading,
dearly beloved,
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I know the name of that newspaper.
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You all know
the name of that newspaper.
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I will not say
the name of that dirty rag,
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that is the instrument of the godless,
the heretics and the Freemasons,
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here in this place.
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I put out my finger
to tap the man on his shoulder
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when I saw that he was asleep.
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Not a peaceful sleep, no.
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His face was distorted
into a demented grimace.
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The man hadn't fallen asleep.
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He'd passed away.
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But he wasn't resting in Christ,
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he'd died reading
that terrible newspaper.
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Dead.
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Dearly beloved,
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like many others, this man had become
the prey and victim
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of foolishness,
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degeneration,
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of those groups
that call themselves socialists.
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Those who claim to be
the friends of the workers,