The Cunning Priest

People are never in complete agreement with each other, and it's impossible to please everyone at once. In a certain village, there lived a priest who was so cunning and resourceful that no one could ever catch him in a word or catch him in any wrongdoing. One Sunday morning, the churchwardens of his parish came to him in the sacristy.

"Good morning, Father!"

"Good morning, friends! What can I do for you?"

"Father, the drought is ruining our crops. We have come to ask you to pray for rain."

"There's nothing easier, my children! I know a prayer—if it is said, rain will come that very day. But it is necessary that everyone agrees on this and asks me to do it. Today, at the end of my sermon, I will speak to the congregation."

"Thank you, Father!"

"I am always happy to help you, friends!"

The churchwardens returned to the church, and the priest began to celebrate Mass. When it was time for the sermon, he ascended the pulpit and said:

"My children, the churchwardens of our parish have just come to me in the sacristy and complained that the drought is ruining the crops. They asked me to pray to God for rain. I know a prayer that will bring rain on the same day, but only if everyone unanimously desires it. Do you want it to rain today?"

"No, Father," shouted the young men. "Today after vespers, we want to go out and have fun."

"Then shall we ask for rain tomorrow?"

"No, Father," replied three or four women. "We have washed our laundry and hung it out to dry. We don't want rain until it is dry."

"Do you want rain on Tuesday?"

"No, Father," said the girls. "On Tuesday, we are going to the fair."

"Then how about Wednesday?"

"No, Father," cried the crowd of mowers. "On Wednesday, we are mowing the clover."

"Do you want rain on Thursday?"

"No, Father," shouted the boys. "On Thursday, we have no school, and we want to run free."

"Perhaps we should pray for rain on Friday?"

"No, Father," said the tile maker. "My tiles are still drying in the sun, and I can't put them in the kiln before Saturday."

"Then do you want rain on Saturday?"

"No, Father," objected the mayor. "On Saturday, I have to visit the villages."

"My brothers, I told you that my prayer for rain works only if everyone unanimously desires it. Until you can agree among yourselves, let us leave it all to the Lord."

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The Cunning Priest

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