Meet "Father Smith" -- silver hair, gentle smile and a voice so mellow that it flows with a grace from beyond. Maybe there is a God and maybe there isn't, but when you're with Father Smith, you tend to believe that maybe there is.
There's just one thing. He's as phony as hell.
"I'm an English teacher," he says. "I marry people at a hotel chapel on weekends. I wear the robes, a cross, the whole nine yards. Nobody knows. And nobody cares." He smiles his smile. "Except for maybe me."