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Unread 02-21-2008, 10:06 AM   #1 (permalink)
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Heaven-sent jokes for Lent

Heaven's Problem Now


Just as the graveside service had ended, there was a tremendous burst of thunder accompanied by a distant lightning bolt and more rumbling thunder.

The little old widower looked at the pastor and calmly said, "Well, she's there."
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Unread 02-21-2008, 10:11 AM   #2 (permalink)
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A cowboy appeared before St. Peter at the pearly gates.

"Have you ever done anything of particular merit?" St. Peter asked.

"Well, I can think of one thing," the cowboy offered. "Once, on a trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota, I came upon a gang of bikers, who were threatening a young woman. I directed them to leave her alone, but they wouldn't listen. So, I approached the largest and most heavily tattooed biker and smacked him in his face, kicked his bike over, ripped out his nose ring, and threw it on the ground. I then yelled, 'Now, back off, or I'll kick the carp out of all of you!'"

St. Peter was impressed. He leafed through the great book he held. "When did this happen?"

"Just a couple minutes ago. . . ."
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Unread 02-21-2008, 02:27 PM   #3 (permalink)
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Ha ha!
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Unread 02-22-2008, 02:00 PM   #4 (permalink)
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Fish 'n' chips

It is February 22, the third Friday of Lent, and the faithful parishioner stumbles through pouring rain past hamburger huts and steak houses into the monastery at Mount Angel and requests shelter. He's just in time for dinner and was treated to the best fish and chips he's ever had.

After dinner, he goes into the kitchen to thank the chefs. He's met by two brothers, "Hello, I'm Brother Michael, and this is Brother Francis."

"I'm very pleased to meet you. I just wanted to thank you for a wonderful dinner. The fish and chips were the best I've ever tasted. Out of curiosity, who cooked what?"

Brother Michael replies, "Well, I'm the fish friar."

The man turns to the other brother and says, "Then you must be . . ."

"Yes, I'm afraid I'm the chip monk."
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Unread 02-22-2008, 04:20 PM   #5 (permalink)
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You crack me up!
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Unread 02-23-2008, 11:25 AM   #6 (permalink)
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Deaf Nun

Sister Agnes, old and deaf, was pre-Vatican II but obediently gave in to orders that she wear the scandalous new habit where the headdress did not even cover her ears when she substituted at St. Francis de Sales School for Girls.

But she was too vain to wear her huge hearing aids. Today she was having each child shout what career she wanted. Little Suzy stood and announced, “I WANT TO BE A PROSTITUTE!”

Sister Agnes screamed and kept screaming until the principal, Sister Blase, ran into the classroom.

“What in Heaven’s name . . .”

The old nun pointed a withered finger. “Did you hear what that child said?!?”

“No, Sister Agnes, and you didn’t hear her either without your hearing aids. Put them in now.”

Sister Agnes inserted the molds and tucked the appliances behind each ear. “Suzy,” she said, “tell Sister Blase what you told me.”

Suzy repeated proudly, “I want to be a prostitute.”

Sister Agnes suddenly hugged the little girl. “Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. I thought you said you wanted to be a Protestant.”
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Unread 02-23-2008, 06:58 PM   #7 (permalink)
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LOL....the grammar school I attended was St. Francis De Sales! I think Iknow these 2 nuns, and the little girl, as well.
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Unread 02-23-2008, 10:18 PM   #8 (permalink)
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Jillio, ha ha ha ha. Then you must be aware that St. Frances de Sales is the patron saint of both the deaf and of authors. I get two-for-one.
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Unread 02-24-2008, 04:34 AM   #9 (permalink)
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Jillio, ha ha ha ha. Then you must be aware that St. Frances de Sales is the patron saint of both the deaf and of authors. I get two-for-one.
Yes you do!
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Unread 02-24-2008, 04:51 PM   #10 (permalink)
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Ha, ha ha... your jokes are pretty "far-out!" ha
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Unread 02-25-2008, 03:25 AM   #11 (permalink)
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Old Testament to New

A Jewish couple had a son who was . . . well . . . a holy terror. By the time for his bar mitzvah, he'd been kicked out of every school they put him in. Desperate, the parents went to the rabbi for advice. The good rabbi stroked his beard and meditated. Finally, he told them to enroll the boy in Catholic school.

The shocked parents did as their rabbi directed and took their son to the nuns at St. Jude’s and left him.

After school, the son came home and said, "Good afternoon, Papa. Good afternoon, Mama."

The young man went to the table and did on his homework. The parents looked at each other in amazement, afraid to speak. The mother wrung her hands and the father twisted his beard all the while their boy helped serve the evening meal, bowed his head for prayers of thanks, and even helped with the dishes.

No longer able to contain himself, the father asked, “We’re ever so grateful, my son, but what in Moses’s name did they do to you?”

"Papa, when you left, the nun took me from class to class all day, each time saying they knew how to deal with rowdy boys. Those Catholics mean business! They got some Jewish-looking guy nailed up on boards in every room!”
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Unread 02-25-2008, 09:51 AM   #12 (permalink)
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A Jewish couple had a son who was . . . well . . . a holy terror. By the time for his bar mitzvah, he'd been kicked out of every school they put him in. Desperate, the parents went to the rabbi for advice. The good rabbi stroked his beard and meditated. Finally, he told them to enroll the boy in Catholic school.

The shocked parents did as their rabbi directed and took their son to the nuns at St. Jude’s and left him.

After school, the son came home and said, "Good afternoon, Papa. Good afternoon, Mama."

The young man went to the table and did on his homework. The parents looked at each other in amazement, afraid to speak. The mother wrung her hands and the father twisted his beard all the while their boy helped serve the evening meal, bowed his head for prayers of thanks, and even helped with the dishes.

No longer able to contain himself, the father asked, “We’re ever so grateful, my son, but what in Moses’s name did they do to you?”

"Papa, when you left, the nun took me from class to class all day, each time saying they knew how to deal with rowdy boys. Those Catholics mean business! They got some Jewish-looking guy nailed up on boards in every room!”
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Unread 02-25-2008, 02:59 PM   #13 (permalink)
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Irish nuns

Prioress Patricia O’Day 'tis 101, and doctors are sayin' the old nun will not live out the day. The sad Sisters of Mercy of Killarney cannot afford to send their dying matriarch to hospital, so makin' her leavin' as comfortable as possible, they gather round to ask what small thing they might do for her.

Old Sister Pat cannot speak. She barely shakes her poor, tired head at each suggestion, until someone mentions “drink.” A slight nod.

The priest in attendance says, “Fresh warm milk, but hurry.” He begins Last rites.

Sister Mary O’Connor, the youngest nun, dashes to the barn but can barely coax a half cup from the abbey’s sole remainin' milk cow. Panicked, Sister Mary searches till she finds the only other liquid in the barn, a jug of long-hidden Irish whiskey. Providence! She splashes it in and races back to the convent.

Sister Pat grimaces at first sip; then her old eyes open, and she gulps the cup empty. “More,” she croaks.

When Sister Mary returns with a bit more milk and the last of the some poor fool's whiskey stash in the cup, Sister Pat is sitting up and the other nuns are proclaimin' a miracle.

They watch her drink, and one nun cries, “O Blessed Sister Patricia, in y’r Heavenly state, what words o’ Divine guidance do ye have to benefit our impoverished order?”

“Dunna . . . sell . . . that . . . cow.”
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Unread 02-26-2008, 10:37 PM   #14 (permalink)
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All jokes are really, really good! You should take Drew Carey's place on TV!!!!
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Unread 02-29-2008, 06:11 PM   #15 (permalink)
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Ungodly golf

Because Father MacPherson’s parish was small and substitute priests must come long distances to hold Wednesday catechism, Saturday vigils, and Sunday masses in his place, the diocese rule was that the good father be upon his deathbed to miss a service.

Except Fr. Mac was an avid golfer and as good as any Scot at the game. Alas, the only course was 150 miles away and most of the worthy competition were physicians who played Wednesdays and businessmen playing weekends.

Early Easter Sunday morning, the pro at the club where Fr. Mac posted consistently low scores called and said Tiger Wood, Phil Mickelson, and Steve Stricker were looking for a fourth by tee time in two hours. Could Father MacPherson help them out?

Forgetting his parishioners and breaking several lots of traffic laws, Fr. Mac was on the links ten minutes early.

Tiger, Phil, and Steve played great games, but Mac was fantastic. Every drive a dream, every chip a champ, every putt perfection. Approaching the eighteenth hole, Mac hit his third shot from 275 yards out, and the ball was headed straight for the pin.

St. Matthew looked down and said to St. Peter. “Pete, that ball's heading for a sure double eagle. His sins should not be rewarded. Shall I cause a great wind to lose it in the rough?”

St. Peter pulled his beard thoughtfully. “No, Matt. We must punish his vanity even more severely. Allow it to go in, but have all three witnesses be looking elsewhere.”
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Unread 02-29-2008, 08:08 PM   #16 (permalink)
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LOL! I've been waiting for another of your jokes!
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Unread 03-01-2008, 02:13 PM   #17 (permalink)
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The Al-Qaeda suicide terrorist was much surprised at the ten virgins promised to greet him in Heaven.

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Unread 03-01-2008, 02:57 PM   #18 (permalink)
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The Al-Qaeda suicide terrorist was much surprised at the ten virgins promised to greet him in Heaven.

http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/4228/10virginsfo9.png
**laughing and genuflecting at the same time!**
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Unread 03-01-2008, 03:00 PM   #19 (permalink)
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The Al-Qaeda suicide terrorist was much surprised at the ten virgins promised to greet him in Heaven.

http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/4228/10virginsfo9.png


I picture 10 prest with shot guns, not the nuns
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Unread 03-02-2008, 03:40 PM   #20 (permalink)
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A man is struck by a bus on a busy Portland street. Seriously injured, he gasps to on-lookers, “A priest. Somebody get me a priest!"

A police officer checks the crowd--no priest, no nun, no eucharistic minister or person of the cloth of any kind. "Please, any words of the church,” the injured man cries.

Out of the crowd steps a shabby old man. He says he’s not Catholic, but he’s slept behind Sacred Heart Cathedral forty years and has heard the words of the priests so many times they are etched in his memory.

Desperate, the injured man nods. The elderly homeless man kneels by him and solemnly intones, “B-4 . . . I-19 . . . N-38 . . . G-54 . . . O-72 . . ."
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Unread 03-02-2008, 08:42 PM   #21 (permalink)
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I particularly enjoyed the jewish boy in a Catholic school joke
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Unread 03-04-2008, 11:31 AM   #22 (permalink)
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Jesus protects "deaf 'n' dumb"

The burglar knew the family was “deaf ‘n’ dumb,” so for easy pickings late one night, he broke into their house. He walked boldly through the living room but suddenly froze in his tracks when he heard a loud voice say, "Jesus is watching you!"

Silence returned to the house, so the burglar crept forward.

"Jesus is watching you," the voice boomed again. The burglar stopped dead, frightened. The whole family supposedly couldn't hear or talk.

In a dark corner, he spotted a bird cage with a parrot inside. "Was that you who said Jesus is watching me?"

"Yes," said the parrot.

The burglar breathed a sigh of relief and asked, "What's your name? Polly?"

"No,” said the bird. “Joseph.”

"What dope would name a parrot Joseph?” sneered the burglar.

"The same dope who named the Doberman Jesus."
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Unread 03-05-2008, 01:32 AM   #23 (permalink)
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A man is struck by a bus on a busy Portland street. Seriously injured, he gasps to on-lookers, “A priest. Somebody get me a priest!"

A police officer checks the crowd--no priest, no nun, no eucharistic minister or person of the cloth of any kind. "Please, any words of the church,” the injured man cries.

Out of the crowd steps a shabby old man. He says he’s not Catholic, but he’s slept behind Sacred Heart Cathedral forty years and has heard the words of the priests so many times they are etched in his memory.

Desperate, the injured man nods. The elderly homeless man kneels by him and solemnly intones, “B-4 . . . I-19 . . . N-38 . . . G-54 . . . O-72 . . ."
Thank God for Casino Night!
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Unread 03-07-2008, 01:35 PM   #24 (permalink)
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For the Irish in us . . .

For the next ten days of Lent before St. Paddy’s Day, here's some Irish Catholic humor:

Muldoon lived in the Irish countryside with only a pet dog for company. One day the dog died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest and asked, “Father, me dog is dead. Could ya be sayin' a mass for the poor creature’s soul?”

Father Patrick replied, “Are ye daft, man? We canna have services for an animal in the church. Go on with ya to the Baptists down the lane. There's no tellin' what they believe. Maybe they'll do something for the dog.”

Muldoon said, “I'll be goin’ right away, Father. Do ya' think 5,000 pounds is enough to donate to them for the service?”

Father Patrick exclaimed, “Sweet mournin’ Mary! Why dint ya tell me yer fine dog was Catholic?”
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Unread 03-08-2008, 02:37 PM   #25 (permalink)
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LOL! That's a good one!
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Unread 03-08-2008, 10:40 PM   #26 (permalink)
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After Sunday morning Mass, Pat unties his dog from the shade tree by the mill stream, and Pat and Mike have a smoke waiting for Pat's wife by the cars.

Mike asks, “Hey, Paddy, whacha think o’ Father Murphy’s homily?”

“Ya mean himself sayin’ a man’s wife's 'is best friend? I dunno, Mikey. I al’ays heard a man’s best friend were 'is dog.”

Mike says, “Well, I don’ want ya goin’ agin the word o’ our own good parish priest, so I’m thinkin’ ya should put it to the test.”

“An’ how would I be doin’ that?” asks Pat.

“‘Tis easy, Paddy. Throw both yer dog an’ yer wife in the boot o’ yer car fer the whole hour goin’ home on them rocky, dusty roads,” says Mike. “When ya open the boot, y’ll soon find which one's happier to see ya.”
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Unread 03-11-2008, 03:34 PM   #27 (permalink)
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Donation

Please try to understand that the worst Catholic humor is usually only appreciated by lifelong Catholics.


Father O'Malley answers the parish phone.

“Is this Father O'Malley speaking?"

"That I am!"

"This is the Mr. Johnson of the IRS. Can you help us?"

"That I can!"

"Do you know a Sean Houlihan?"

"That I do!"

"Is he a member of your congregation . . . er . . . parish?"

"That he is!"

"Did he donate $10,000 to the church?"

"That he will!"
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Unread 03-11-2008, 05:40 PM   #28 (permalink)
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Loved all the jokes, Chase! Keep them coming!
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Unread 03-14-2008, 02:21 PM   #29 (permalink)
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A short joke:

‘Twas back before that Gore fella invented global warmin’ -- the coldest winter Ireland had ever seen. Two leprechauns wrapped in green blankets pounded on the gates of a convent on the southern coast by the icy sea.

Sister Patience opened the small door high in the gate, but could see nothing. “‘Tis a joke some scallywags is playin’ on poor nuns?” she called out.

“Nay, good sister, we’re down here,” said Erin, the taller leprechaun, almost two feet high. “Me wee shy friend, Shamus, is wonderin’ if a nun his size lives here.”

“Oh, heavens no. We’re the Sisters of Soaring Stature. A very tall order.”

“No midget with a slight habit?” asked Erin.

“No,” answered Sister Patience impatiently.

“Not one dwarf lady wearin' the holy black ‘n’ white?”

“Are ye deaf? What part o’ ‘tall’ is so hard to grasp, li'l man?”

“Told ye, Shamus,” Erin said. “Yer date last night was a penguin.”
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