“What are you?” a construction worker demanded quizzically of a cassock-wearing priest, as he passed a job site near a hospital.

The priest looked at his interlocutor and hesitated; the undercurrent of contempt was perceptible. Deciding to take the question at face value, he responded peaceably: “I am a priest.”

“And what,” the man inquired flippantly, “does a priest do?”

Praise the Lord

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