A man is struck by a bus on a busy street in in New York City.He lies dying on the sidewalk as a crowd of spectators gathers around."
A priest.
Somebody get me a priest!"
the man gasps.
A policemanchecks the crowd----no priest, no minister, no man of God of any kind."
A PRIEST, PLEASE!"
the dying man says again.
Then out of thecrowd steps a little old Jewish man of at least eighty years of age."
Mr.
Policeman," says the man, "I'm not a priest.
I'm not evena Catholic.
But for fifty years now I'm living behind St.
Elizabeth'sCatholic Church on First Avenue, and every night I'm listeningto the Catholic litany.
Maybe I can be of some comfort to this man."
The policeman agreed and brought the octogenarian over to wherethe dying man lay.
He kneels down, leans over the injured and saysin a solemn voice:"Under the B, 4.
Under the I, 19.
Under the N, 38.Under the G, 54.
Under the O, 72.
.
."
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