I like the first part of this story about Jesus. All those blessings, and that neat parable about the salt of the earth, and the light of the world. It makes me feel good inside. But now it gets difficult. Let me put this in terms that I can understand.

The first time I ever remember hating anyone was in the third grade. The kid's name was Les. Les moved into town part way through the year and from the beginning we had trouble. On the first day, I received a note during spelling. The note read, "After school. You're dead!" The note was signed, "Les." This was not good news, as Les stood about six-foot tall and weighed in the area of 200 pounds. In the third grade!

Fortunately, I had to stay a few minutes late after school that afternoon, and by the time I left, so had everyone else. I found …