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September 6, 2012
Last Rights
A man is struck by a bus on a busy street in New York City and is lying near death as a crowd gathers.
“A priest! Somebody get me a priest!” the man gasps. A police officer checks the crowd but finds no priest, no minister, no clergy of any kind.
“A PRIEST, PLEASE!” the man pleads again.
Finally, a little Jewish man, well over 80, steps forward.
“Officer,” he says. “I’m not a priest. I’m not even a Catholic. But for 50 years, I’ve been living behind St. Mary’s Catholic Church on Third Avenue, and I listen to the Catholic liturgy every night. Maybe I can be of some comfort.”
The policeman nods and escorts the little man over. He kneels, leans over the dying man, and quietly intones: “B-4. I-19. N-38. G-54. O-72.”
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