The Cathedral of San Giovanni The City-State of San Giovanni is largely forgotten today. In 1571, however, it was a wonderful place to be for both the secular and the spiritual. The was no war for three centuries, the market benefited from its close proximity to the Old Salt Route, and the artist community was vibrant and influential. Yet all of this paled to San Giovanni's greatest treasure: the Cathedral. It is said that when the original plans (now enshrined in Rome) were shown to the finest masons and artisans of 7 nations, every single one of them gladly abandoned their successful businesses and moved their families to San Giovanni, just to be part of something so impossibly beautiful. Completed in 1533, it took six generations to construct this miraculous tribute to God. And indeed to all who witnessed it, it was nothing less than a miracle. Each year, thousands of pilgrims traveled to this wonder to worship, to commune, and to feel closer to God in a wholly unique way. Stained glass windows made the most jaded weep. Fiercely carved gargoyles made the bravest tremble. And spires stretched to the heavens as the most prideful believed the Tower of Babel could never reach. And yet for all of this splendor, nothing compared to the bells of San Giovanni. And indeed there were many who believed that the now sainted designer of these bells received the aid of angels to carry their song. All farmers, and even their livestock, stopped their toil on Sunday mornings for the bells' call to worship. For all 38 years since the Cathedral opened, there was but one bell ringer who was beloved by all. And when he passed away on a Tuesday morning, a nation deeply mourned. That Sunday, for the first time in almost four decades, the bells did not ring in tribute to this brilliant man Now the Archbishop of San Giovanni was deeply worried. For he had one week to find a replacement for the bell ringer. A call went out throughout the city-state for one so bold and yet so humble as to take on that mantle. None, it would seem, were so bold. It came to pass on a Wednesday morning that a man with no arms appeared before the Archbishop and begged for this job. ""Please, your worship,"" he pleaded, ""I am a humble man of limited means who must feed his family. Please allow me to be your bell ringer."" The archbishop was of course dubious. ""I appreciate your plight, my son, but you have no arms. How can you ring the bell?"" ""Please, I beg you, please let me try."" Reluctantly, the man of faith took the armless man to the top of the belfry and invited him to try. The man with no arms looked sternly at the bell. He took one step back...two steps back...three steps back...and ran head-first into the bell. *BRRRRAAAAAANNNGGGG* The sound was unlike anything the archbishop or anyone else had ever heard. So beautiful was the sound of the bell that many mistook it for the clarion call of the Second Coming. All...and I mean all of the townspeople were stunned, and then wept. The archbishop, who had received this sound point blank, could barely hear himself say, ""My son, do you think you can do this every Sunday?"" Dazed, the armless man answered, ""Whatever it will take to gain work in my condition."" And the archbishop, of course, gave him the job, believing the armless man was nothing less than a gift from heaven. Sunday arrived and all were deeply excited. Would the armless man be able to repeat his performance from earlier in the week? The man felt quite a bit of pressure, but also pride. And he wanted to outdo his prior performance. He took one step back...two steps back...three steps back...four steps back! This was unfortunate as the bell approach was only three paces long. So he fell out of the belfry tower and plummeted down to the cobblestone road and to his immediate death. Later that day, the chief inspector asked the archbishop for the name of the armless man. The archbishop responded, ""I don't know, but his face rings a bell.""