When I walked into my theology class for the first time, before add/drop had ended, mind you (as I am a serious student), I was stunned silent for the entire 75 minutes. The class, titled Biblical Literature, could really have been about anything if you ask me. 

My professor asked to be called Father. I heard priests were kinky and all that, but it did seem odd to me that kinks were allowed to enter the sanctity of a classroom setting. Nevertheless, I let that one slide. What was more bewildering was that when the class began, he started talking about the Old Testament—as if he would be an expert on such a thing. His knowledge spanned from Adam and Eve to Moses to even Jesus all the way in the New Testament. 

What really stopped me cold in my tracks was the recounting of Noah and his arc. On what basis could he have heard of such a thing? He could even recite details. The basis for such knowledge was absolutely unfounded, and while I was, of course, intrigued as to how he came about this information, I was mostly downright chilled.

It is safe to say that after that first class meeting, I was out of there faster than you could say, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” I shared my harrowing experience with many of my peers, and none could explain what occurred in that classroom. I plead, nay, I beg on my knees for answers.