A Jewish man moves into a Catholic neighborhood. Every Friday The Catholics are driven crazy because, while they're eating fish, the Jew is outside barbecuing steaks. So the

A Jewish man moves into a Catholic neighborhood. Every Friday the Catholics are driven crazy because, while they're eating fish, the Jew is outside barbecuing steaks. So the neighborhood council, led by Mrs. O'Malley, a woman whose piety was matched only by her strategic use of passive aggression, decided enough was enough. They held an emergency meeting in the church basement, fueled by lukewarm tea and simmering resentment.

"It's an outrage!" declared Father Michael, fanning himself with a prayer book. "The aroma alone is a temptation! My parishioners are practically drooling through their rosaries!"

Mrs. O'Malley, ever the pragmatist, raised a hand. "We can't outright forbid him, Father. But perhaps we can… convert him. Then he'd be eating fish on Fridays, just like the rest of us!" A ripple of approving murmurs went through the room.

So, a delegation, headed by Father Michael and Mrs. O'Malley, went to visit their new neighbor, Mr. Goldstein.

"Mr. Goldstein," Father Michael began, his voice dripping with honeyed persuasion, "we've been so delighted to have you in our community. And we were wondering… would you perhaps be interested in learning more about the Catholic faith?"

Mr. Goldstein, who was just flipping a perfectly seared ribeye, smiled cordially. "Well, Father, that's very kind of you. I'm always open to learning."

They began a series of weekly discussions. Father Michael explained the sacraments, Mrs. O'Malley brought over homemade Irish soda bread, and Mr. Goldstein, always a gracious host, subtly wafted the scent of his Friday barbecue their way. After several weeks, Mr. Goldstein agreed.

"Alright, Father," he announced one sunny afternoon, "I've thought it over, and I'd be honored to convert."

The neighborhood rejoiced! A special ceremony was planned for the following Sunday. Everyone was there, brimming with excitement. Father Michael performed the rites, and as he poured the holy water over Mr. Goldstein's head, he declared, "And now, Abraham Goldstein, you are no longer a Jew. You are a Catholic!"

The crowd cheered. Father Michael beamed. This Friday, they thought, would finally be a peaceful, fish-filled day.

The very next Friday, as the sun began to set, an unmistakably delicious aroma began to waft through the neighborhood. It was the scent of sizzling beef. The Catholics, forks paused mid-flounder, exchanged bewildered glances. Had it not worked?

Mrs. O'Malley, aghast, rushed over to Mr. Goldstein's fence. She found him standing proudly over his grill, a new array of steaks sizzling away.

"Mr. Goldstein!" she exclaimed, her voice a strained whisper. "What on earth are you doing?! You converted! It's Friday! We eat fish!"

Mr. Goldstein, now with a beatific smile on his face, looked up at her, then gestured towards the grilling steaks with a flourish. "Ah, but Mrs. O'Malley," he said, his eyes twinkling, "I'm a Catholic now! And as a good Catholic, I'm simply preparing them for Sunday!