Get a great laugh with these religious jokes.
Today’s sermon: finding belly laughs in holy places. Read up on our religious jokes, Christian Jokes and more that will have you laughing in church.
"No!" the children all answered.
"If I cleaned the church every day, mowed the yard, and kept everything neat and tidy, would I get into heaven?"
Again the answer was, "No!"
"Well," she continued, "then how can I get to heaven?"
A five-year-old boy shouted out, "You gotta be dead!"
"Of course," was the answer.
On the day of the funeral, as the pallbearers descended the steps toward the hearse, a loud rattling and rolling came from the coffin. "Sounds like a pinball machine," murmured one startled director.
Later a family member of the deceased came to the chapel office to apologize. At the last minute, they had decided to place in the casket, along with the club, a half-dozen golf balls.
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A woman stood up and said, "My granddaughter turned 16 this week and received her driver's license. Let us pray for us all."
I was anxious for every detail of this event to be flawless and elegant, so the lay youth workers and I agreed to bring the last of the fall flowers from our gardens for floral arrangements.
The next morning, I decided to walk to church. There I was, dressed in a dark suit, a tie, hat and overcoat, walking down the street at 6:30 a.m. with a bouquet of chrysanthemums tucked under my arm.
As I strolled along, a car passed me from behind. Then, as though an afterthought, the driver stopped, backed up, rolled down the window, gestured to the flowers, and quipped, "If you're just getting home, buddy, you'd better take her more than those."
"Hell, no," the man replied, "Irish Catholic."
Moments later a white-haired man wearing a white coat and carrying a stethoscope and medical bag rushed up to the front of the line, waved to St. Peter, and was immediately admitted through the Pearly Gates.
"Hey!" the doctor shouted. "How come you let him through?"
"Oh," said St. Peter, "that's God. Sometimes he likes to play doctor."
I said I thought she would, and that in dog heaven, she would be healthy again and able to do her favorite thing: chase squirrels.
Jacob thought about that for a minute, then said, "So dog heaven must be the same as squirrel hell."
"Get in touch with God by knee mail."
"Get in touch with God by knee mail."
"Thank you, Lord, for the many miracles we are too blond to see."
"You can't take that," a scandalized deacon told the preacher. "That's the devil's money."
"Well, brother," said the preacher, cheerfully accepting the gift, "in that case, the devil has had his hands on it long enough. Now let's see what the Lord will do with it."
Two priests died at the same time and met St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. "Our computer's down," said St. Peter. "You'll have to go back for a week, but you can't go back as priests. What'll it be?"
The first priest said, "I've always wanted to be an eagle, soaring above the Rocky Mountains."
"So be it," said St. Peter, and off flew the first priest.
The second priest thought for a moment and asked, "Will any of this week count?"
"No," said St. Peter.
"Well," the priest said, "I've always wanted to be a stud."
"So be it," said St. Peter. A week later, the computer was fixed, and the Lord told St. Peter to recall the two priests. "Will you have any trouble locating them?" he asked.
"The first one should be easy," said St. Peter. "He's somewhere over the Rockies, flying with the eagles. But the second one could prove more difficult."
"Why?" asked the Lord.
"He's on a snow tire somewhere in northern Ontario," said St. Peter.
The mother superior volunteered to give it for her, and eventually reduced my friend's 30 minutes of embarrassed rambling to a one-liner that has now become famous around the place. "Girls," she announced. "Just remember—old ain't dead."
"At conception," said the Catholic priest.
"No, no," said the Presbyterian minister. "It begins at birth."
"It's in between," said the Baptist. "Life begins at 12 weeks when the fetus develops a functional heartbeat."
"I disagree with all of you," said the rabbi. "Life begins when your last child leaves home and takes the dog with him."
"Ian, you can't be the Pope," I said. "You're not Catholic. You're Lutheran."
Ian hadn't thought about that. So he considered his alternatives. After a few minutes, he asked, "Is Dracula a Lutheran?"
Moments later we sang a hymn, and at its conclusion the music director asked all of us to turn to our neighbors and say that we loved them. The woman at my side faced me and said, "I love you, but those seats are still taken."
Just then a man came running into the church, shouting, "Who's playing 'Three Blind Mice' on the church-steeple bells?"
She had been operating the carillon.
A villager saw them step onto the dangerous span and yelled for them to stop. "That's all right," one of the ministers responded. "We're here from the Presbyterian convention."
"I dinna care aboot that," came the reply. "But if ye go much farther, ye'll all be Baptists!"
As I was leaving church, the woman in front of me walked up to the priest, shook his hand, and said, "I'll take five."
Finally the guard came. The man scribbled his name in the visitors' book and rushed inside. "What does that guy teach?" I asked the guard.
"Serenity Through Meditation."
"Hello, is this Rabbi Schwartz?" The caller asked.
"This is the Internal Revenue Service. We wonder if you can help us."
"Do you know Herman Cohen?"
"Is this man a member of your congregation."
"Did he donate $10,000?"
"Dull," says the salesman.
Next, St. Peter shows him hell: toga parties, excellent food and wine, and everyone looking as though he's having a wonderful time.
"I'll take hell," he says.
He enters the gates of hell and is immediately set upon by a dozen demons who poke him with pitchforks. "Hey," the salesman demands as Satan walks past, "what happened to the party I saw going on?"
"Ah," Satan replies. "You must have seen our demo."
"Oh, boy," replied the priest. "If you can't be more honest than that, how can I trust you to count our money?"
"I wonder what kind of car they drive," my husband said, and jokingly suggested, "a Ford Focus?"
"Or a Honda Odyssey," I said.
The monks got into a Pathfinder.
Nothing happens. So the next week the man tries again. "Please, God, let me win the lottery, and I'll come to church every week."
Again nothing happens. So the man decides to try one last time. "Lord," he implores, "why haven't I won the lottery? Have you abandoned me?"
Suddenly a deep voice booms down from above. "My son, I have not abandoned you, but at least meet me halfway—buy a ticket!"
Reading the paper the following morning, he noticed that one well-meaning cub reporter had ended his story on the banquet with the observation "The minister told a number of stories that cannot be published."
The men are stunned. How does she know they're clergy? Later they buy even wilder attire: surfer shorts, tie-dyed T-shirts, and dark glasses. The next day, they return to the beach. The same fabulous blonde, now wearing a string bikini, passes by, nods politely at them, and says, "Good morning, Fathers."
"Just a minute, young lady," says one of the priests. "We are priests and proud of it, but how in the world did you know?"
"Don't you recognize me? I'm Sister Kathryn from the convent."
Arriving back home after the delivery, I had a call from our church secretary. "Do you know what happened to Mary's goose? It disappeared!"
The goose had been for Mary's Christmas dinner and was being stored at the church because it was too big for her own freezer.
After the service, I glanced at the announcement again, this time noting yet another penciled-in correction. It now read "Donations Expected."
Jesus teed off, hitting his ball into another water hazard. But he walked on water and stroked his ball just short of the cup.
Then the old man with the beard stepped up for his tee shot. He hit the ball with tremendous force, but hooked it badly. The ball bounced off the clubhouse roof, hit the cart path, and rolled down a hill into a pond, coming to rest on a lily pad. A frog hopped over and picked up the ball, then an eagle swooped down, snatched the frog, and flew over the green. The frog dropped the ball, and it rolled into the cup for a hole in one.
Moses turned to Jesus and said, "I hate playing golf with your dad."
The minister then added, "You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."
My wife leaned over, put her head on my shoulder, and whispered in my ear, "I just love to watch your muscles ripple when you take out the garbage."
After being served, one of the elders asked the minister to say grace. "I'd rather not," the clergyman said. "I don't want him to know I'm here."
The priest says, "Take seven lemons, squeeze them into a glass, and drink the juice."
"Will that cleanse me of my sins?"
"No," replies the priest. "But it'll wipe that silly grin off your face."
One five-year-old raised his hand. "I know the answer should be Jesus," he began, "but it sounds like a squirrel to me."
Not long after I resigned as pastor of a small community church, the phone rang. "Is the reverend there?" a man asked.
I explained that I was a minister, though not the current pastor.
"You'll do," he said. The man wanted to know which Scripture verses applied to funeral services.
I gave him several references, and he jotted them down.
"What about the 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust' part?" he asked.
I read it to him slowly. Then, intending to offer him some sympathy, I inquired, "And who is the deceased?"
"My daughter's rabbit," he replied.
"Put down 'yes,' " she said.
He asked if we wanted to extinguish our candles or leave them burning.
After thinking about it, David replied, "How about if we leave mine lit and blow out hers?"
That sounded simple enough until they passed through the Pearly Gates and found thousands of ducks everywhere. Jake stepped on one right away. The ducks quacked, making an unholy racket, and St. Peter came up to Jake bringing with him a ferocious-looking Amazon woman.
"I warned you if you broke the rule you'd be punished," St. Peter said. Then he chained the Amazon woman to Jake for eternity.
Several hours later, Johnny stepped on a duck. The duck quacked, they all quacked, and St. Peter stepped up to Johnny with an angry-looking, shrewish woman. "As your punishment," St. Peter told Johnny, "you'll be chained to this woman for eternity."
Billy was extremely careful not to step on a duck. Several months went by. Then St. Peter came up to him with a gorgeous blonde and chained her to Billy, uniting them for all time. "Wow!" exclaimed Billy. "I wonder what I did to deserve this?"
"I don't know about you," said the beautiful woman, "but I stepped on a duck."
My colleague responded by walking to the altar and kneeling down himself. Then he returned to the group, looked at the chairman, and declared, "He wants to talk with you again."
One Sunday morning my sister Liz was surprised to receive a phone call from her minister. He reported that he'd just been in a minor car accident and asked if she could inform the congregation he'd be unable to conduct services that day.
Liz was flattered that out of the entire congregation, she was the one he had called—until the minister went on to say that since Liz was always the last to arrive at church, he knew she would be the only person he could still reach at home.
The next Sunday the young clergyman nervously clutched the pulpit rail in front of the congregation. Finally he said, "Some of the best years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman."
He was pleased at the instant reaction—then became panic-stricken. "But for the life of me, I can't remember who she was!"
Doug was leaving church after Christmas services when Father McCarthy took him aside. "Douglas, my son," he said, "it's time you joined the Army of the Lord. We need to see you every Sunday."
"I'm already in the Army of the Lord, Father," Doug replied.
"Then why do we only see you on Christmas and Easter?"
Doug looked to the right and to the left, and then leaned over to whisper in Father McCarthy's ear. "I'm in the Secret Service."
The motorist didn't like to be preached to, so he rolled down the window and yelled, "Mind your own business, you religious nuts!"
A few seconds later the two fishermen heard tires screech, then a splash.
The rabbi turned to the priest and said, "I told you we should've just written, 'Bridge Out.' "
The ordination of women as Episcopal ministers occasionally presents awkward situations as to what to call us. "Father" sounds inappropriate to some; "Mother" is traditionally used for unordained women overseeing religious communities.
Last year, one of my colleagues, dressed in her clerical garb, was in an airport. A man summoned the courage to ask her, "Pardon me, but what do you call a female father?"
My colleague smiled mischievously and replied, "Ambisextrous."
As the golfer approached the first tee, a hazardous hole with a green surrounded by water, he debated if he should use his new golf ball. Deciding that the hole was too treacherous, he pulled an old ball out and placed it on the tee. Just then he heard a voice from above say loudly, "Use the new ball!"
Frightened, he replaced the old ball with the new and approached the tee. Now the voice from above shouted, "Take a practice swing!"
With this, the golfer stepped backward and took a swing.
Feeling more confident, he approached the tee when the voice again rang out, "Use the old ball!"
Rubbing some badly skinned knuckles, I replied, "Well, Father, at this point we usually start cursing."
"Well, gentlemen," Father replied, "allow me time to move out of earshot so you can continue your work."
Although there were usually ten to twelve of us at Sunday service, I was embarrassed to see only four of us standing.
Not missing a beat, the pastor continued, "And what is most amazing is that they won with such a small team."
The next day Moses was walking down the same street and there was Bush. Again he tried to initiate a conversation. Again Moses turned and ran away.
Bush was tired of this bizarre treatment, so the next time Moses ran away from him, Bush followed. When he caught up, he asked Moses what was wrong.
Moses said, "The last time I talked to a bush I spent 40 years in the desert."
When the priest returned three years later, he found the wife pregnant, tending two sets of twins. Elated, the priest asked to speak to her husband and congratulate him.
"He's gone to Rome," came the harried reply, "to blow out that candle."
"My son," he replied, "our parishioners know when we hold Mass, but we have to be sure the Protestants know when we hold bingo."
With a flourish of his pen, he would inscribe this commandment to the post office on the envelopes in which the pictures were returned: "Thou shalt not bend."
Time freezes. The bear becomes immobile, the forest is silent, and the river stops running. Then the atheist hears a powerful voice: "You have denied my existence for years, taught others I don't exist and credited my creation to a cosmic accident. Why should I help you?"
"It would be hypocritical to ask you to show mercy on me," the atheist agrees. "But perhaps you could make the bear a Christian?"
At that, the noise of the forest resumes, the river runs, and the bear drops to its knees, brings its paws together, and says, "Lord, for this food which I am about to receive, I am truly thankful."
"Good," the instructor replied. "Anything else?"
"How about sex?" suggested another father-to-be.
Once again, silence followed. Then the devout dad-to-be muttered under his breath, "What do you think I've been praying for?"
"No," the attendant explained, "I wear this robe as part of my job, but I'm not a member of any religious order."
"Then where are the monks?" asked the woman.
The man replied, "Oh, there haven't been any monks here since 1415."
Hearing this, the woman looked at her watch and announced to her friend, "Betty, we missed the monks."
"Kevin," he asked with great seriousness, "where is God?"
Kevin gave no reply.
"Kevin, where is God?"
Again there was silence.
For a third time the priest asked the question, and this time Kevin bolted out of the office and ran all the way home. He burst into his brother's room.
"Ken," he panted breathlessly, "Father can't find God and he thinks we had something to do with it!"
"Son," his father asked, "what made the difference in math class? The nuns? The textbooks?"
"Dad, I had never taken math seriously before," the boy admitted. "But when I walked in and saw that guy nailed to the plus sign, I knew this place meant business!"
Looking confused, the young man smiled and said, "Nonsmoking, please."
I was working as a phone-order representative for a textbook publisher. One very busy day, many customers had been put on hold. When I took my next call, I heard a soft yet annoyed voice on the line muttering, "Darn, darn, damn, darn, darn it!"
I chuckled and said, "What may I help you with today?"
There was a brief silence, followed by, "I'm so sorry. I wish to place an order."
"Don't be sorry," I replied. "That's hardly the worst thing I've heard today. Now, first I need your name."
"Oh, dear," she said, "how embarrassing. My name is Sister Patience."
Firefighters climbed out of the truck to assist me. "It's the preacher," one said. "Are you okay?"
"I just got the wind knocked out of me," I replied.
"Wow," said another firefighter. "It takes a lot to knock the wind out of a preacher!"
"Karma Café. We don't have a menu. We give you just what you deserve."
"Karma Café. We don't have a menu. We give you just what you deserve."
Our synagogue was throwing a coming-out party of sorts for our new officiant, which was to be billed as "Coffee With the Cantor." The guest of honor, an Argentine, suggested that rather than coffee we serve mate, a variation of a South American tea.
That idea was quickly nixed, however, when we realized that we would be inviting congregants to "Mate With the Cantor."
"Now, Mrs. Kelly," the priest allowed, "you've been the housekeeper here five years, and I've only been here a few days. Why not say our roof and our furnace?"
Several weeks later, when the pastor was meeting with the bishop and several other priests, Mrs. Kelly burst into the office, terribly upset. "Father, Father," she blurted, "there's a mouse in our room and it's under our bed!"
"Actually, yes," one cleric replied. "Why?"
"Because," said the caddy, "I've never seen such bad golf and such clean language."
There was silence. But finally, one little boy answered gravely, "He's the one you can move diagonally."
"If you come to church this evening," the preacher said, "I'll tell you how to get to heaven."
"I don't think I'll be there," the boy said. "You don't even know your way to the post office."
Instead, his message went to the inbox of a woman whose husband had just passed away. When the grieving widow opened her e-mail, she read the message, screamed, and passed out cold.
The woman's daughter rushed into the room and found this note on the computer screen. "My darling wife: Just checked in. Everything is prepared for your arrival tomorrow. Looking forward to being with you again. Your loving husband. P.S. Sure is hot down here!"
Kate replied, "My mom's feet hurt."
The man pondered a moment, then replied, "I don't think he'd pay $17.95 for that hat."