"Look what we found!" said the woman who tallied up the special second Sunday collection Sept. 18 at St. Lawrence of Brindisi Church in Watts.

When she handed Father Peter Banks the envelope with a rendering of the old mission-style church, the seasoned cleric read the Spanish hand-printed words across the front: Para las víctimas del huracan, no traia dinero pero esto debe de tener algún valor. Es de todo corazón. (For the victims of the hurricane, I did not bring any money. But this should be of some value. It is with all of my heart.)

Opening the white envelope, the Capuchin Franciscan priest didn't believe what he was seeing --- a faded gold wedding ring with notches along the outside.

Overwhelmed with emotion, especially utter thankfulness, he thought what a wonderful woman this must be who took the ring off her finger to give everything she had for the men, women and children whose lives were devastated by Hurricane Katrina. The biblical story of the Widow's Mite came immediately to mind. Then, when he realized there was no name on the envelope, it hit him even deeper what a totally selfless act this really was.

"It restores your hope," Father Banks confided recently, in a voice clearly showing his Irish roots. "I mean, we work with people and can get very cynical as priests. You've been had so many times, people asking for money or whatever. But then there's always somebody like this who restores your faith in human nature that there are great people right in your midst.

"I think the ring was even a conversion experience, because I had it in my habit all week," he reported, reaching into the hidden chest pocket of his brown robe and bringing out the small ring. "I kept it next to my heart. It inspires me maybe to be a little bit more generous. And everyone I met, I showed it to them. Because I wanted them to see that there are wonderful people here. Even in the middle of disasters and tragedy, heroes arise."

The priest is going to send the ring, along with a check for the $7,000 collected over the weekend, to the Archdiocese of New Orleans, which is now operating out of Baton Rouge. He believes it's a wonderful symbol of the union between Watts and the destroyed city.

The special collection at eight Sunday and Saturday vigil Masses brought in $1,000 more than the regular collection.

It didn't surprise Father Banks that older African American parishioners --- who make up about 25 percent of his South Los Angeles congregation and have historical ties to blacks in Louisiana --- would be that generous. What amazed him was the largess of the rest of his working class parishioners, who are mostly Mexican-Americans.

"There's a bond here with suffering people, I think, for a start," he explained. "There's a bond with the poor. But I was very pleased that the Mexican people responded from just what they saw on television, especially about New Orleans, which is 67 percent African American. There was no kind of thinking 'Oh, well, it's not us.'

"People at church saw people giving money. And they really can't afford to give like this. In the past few weeks, we had a carnival, they sold tickets for a raffle and they've given over their quota to the archdiocese's Together in Mission campaign.

"I thought they were drained," he said. "But they were giving out of everything they had."

Father Banks has been a priest for 32 years. A large chunk of that time was spent at St. Lawrence of Brindisi, during two stints as pastor of the urban parish, established back in 1908. He's gotten used to the generosity of the poor. Time and time again, he has watched them reach deep into their pockets to lesson the pain of others, even if they were strangers.

Still, the gold wedding ring in the Sunday collection was special.

"Because it's so symbolic of the goodness of the inner city," he pointed out. "Sometimes people think Watts is the toughest place to live, but it's a great place to live. The greatest people I've ever met in my life are here in the inner city. The greatest people!

"They seem to have nothing, and yet they give everything. You find God so present shining through the poor. Like this woman is probably a saint. She took the pearl off her hand and gave everything she had."

The priest stopped for a moment, pursing his lips and shaking his head, like he still couldn't quite believe it.

"The people I meet here everyday are saints, as well as the poor of New Orleans or wherever it may be," said Father Banks. "You're blessed by God to be in a place like this. Blessed by God."