“Hope is a powerful thing. When we are good we hope that some omniscient being sees and will reward our saintly efforts. When we are wicked we hope that no celestial law exists to condemn our folly. And when we are repentant we hope for an infinitely available mercy unto redemption.”
“That’s very moving, Father Ernst,” said the young church secretary, “but I’m not sure how well it will fit into the wedding ceremony.”
“Wedding?” questioned the priest, “I thought it was a funeral this morning, for that Loust fellow.”
“That’s this afternoon,” corrected his secretary dourly, double-checking in the leather-bound planner she always carried. “This morning is the Purin/Harvey wedding.”
“I thought the bride called the whole thing off after the, well, the incident,” said the priest with a hint of disdain.
“She did. She called it back on, and as we hadn’t booked the time slot yet for any one else…” but her voice trailed off as she looked out the window at the arriving guests.
“I suppose hope does spring eternal.”