That Rings a Bell

The bell rang—the courier. But the ring rang a bell—an old story: Once there was a young, enthusiastic priest. He was assigned to a parish, With a caveat: the villagers were all ruffians. The young priest took it up as a challenge. For the first few weeks there was little response. The parishioners couldn’t care less. So the priest decided to go offbeat. He visited the local bar. As he entered, there were murmurs. Then, after a moment, People went on with their booze, As if nothing happened. The priest, too, had his peg. Went to the restroom downstairs. There was a picture on the wall Of a nude woman. There was just a leaf across, Covering what needed to be covered— As a matter of discretion. The priest, out of curiosity, Lifted the leaf. And there was nothing—just a blank spot. He was amused by the practical joke. Came upstairs. Now the whole gathering surrounded him, Greeting him, hugging him, and all. The priest was surprised. He wanted to know why. Someone in the crowd said: Well, there rings a bell up here When someone touches the leaf. Now we know that you are our man! The priest thanked God For giving him a chance To build an instant rapport With his parishioners. Hallelujah!