The Liturgy is coming to an end. The rector comes out to the ambo with an announcement to the congregation:
– Dear brothers and sisters! I would like to remind you that next week we are beginning the renovation of the parish house. In this regard, I have two pieces of news for you: one is good, and the second ... shall we say, requires faith.
The people in the church fall silent. The priest continues:
– The good news is that our parish already has all the money needed to fully complete the renovation!
A relieved whisper spreads through the church: "Glory to God! What a sponsor has been found!"
The rector pauses, smiles, and adds:
– And the second piece of news: all of that money is still currently in your pockets and wallets. But I have firm faith that the Lord will help you get it out of there!
A young woman, terrified and visibly shaken, rushes into a church in the middle of the week and runs straight to the duty priest.
"Father, please help me! Something terrible has happened! This morning I accidentally spilled my Thursday salt, then a black cat ran across my path, and to make matters worse, the little mirror in my pocket cracked! It has to be a sign, doesn't it? I'm cursed now! Or someone has put the evil eye on me! What should I do? What prayer service should I request?"
The priest sighed sadly, made the sign of the Cross over her, and replied calmly:
"All right, here's the remedy. Go home, stand in front of a mirror, look carefully at yourself, and say out loud three times:
'I am an Orthodox Christian, not a member of the Mumba-Yumba tribe.'
Usually works instantly.
The problem is simply that your faith in superstitions has become stronger than your faith in God.
Go in peace. And stop offending cats."
The long Sunday confession line is finally coming to an end. The last parishioner approaches the priest – a very respectable-looking elderly woman – and begins from a safe distance:
“Father, I have sinned... Last week I felt jealous of my neighbor because her tomatoes grew better than mine. And on Friday I didn't finish my evening prayers. I skipped three prayers.”
The priest, resting his head on one hand, asks:
“My dear, what about your husband? Do you two ever argue?”
“Oh, goodness no, Father! We have complete harmony. We live in perfect peace. He's a very quiet man – never says a word against me.”
The priest suddenly perks up.
“Really? A perfect marriage? And how exactly did you manage that?”
“Well, it's simple. Right after our wedding I told him: ‘Vasya, if you ever try arguing with me, I can't be held responsible for what happens next. And just so you know, my frying pan is very heavy.’”
“And that was it?”
“That was it, Father. Thirty years of perfect Christian peace in the family!”
The priest sighed, draped his stole over her for the prayer of absolution, and whispered:
“Go in peace, my dear. And tell your husband Vasia that after thirty years of martyrdom, Heaven is awaiting him any day now.”
A young novice, after devouring the ancient Desert Fathers, approaches an experienced elder.
“Father, I've made up my mind. I'm going to acquire perfect dispassion and conquer every tempting thought. Tell me, when does a monk finally stop being tempted and enter into complete peace?”
The elder smiled into his beard, put an arm around the young monk's shoulders, and whispered:
“Normally on about the third day after his funeral, my son. If he's lucky. Until then... grab a broom and go sweep the courtyard.”
"Father, I’ve accomplished a truly spiritual feat! I finally forgave all my enemies!"
"What wonderful news. How did you do that?"
"I blocked them all."
In one diocese, they appointed a new inspector – energetic, strict, and very eager to enforce standards. He decided to tour the remote rural parishes without warning.
So he arrives at a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, walks into the church, and sees an elderly, good-natured priest in a worn cassock bustling around near the altar.
The inspector, determined to establish authority immediately, sternly asks:
“Well-well, Father! Report to me at once – how are things in your parish with catechesis, missionary outreach, and youth ministry?”
The old priest scratches his beard in confusion, smiles warmly, and replies:
“Oh, my dear fellow… Catechesis is doing splendidly – our catechist’s goat Manka just gave birth to three kids.
Mission work is going well too. Our church warden, old Mykhei, went to the neighboring village yesterday for spare parts, and while he was there he explained to all the men outside the store why swearing is sinful.
But youth ministry… ah yes, that’s where we’re struggling. The only young person left in our parish is me – I’m only seventy-two. All the other 'youngsters' are already resting in the cemetery.”
Two young and zealous neophytes are arguing themselves hoarse:
“Is it sinful to sleep during the sermon? Surely that’s a terrible sin of inattention!”
So they go to the parish rector to settle the dispute.
The rector lets out a heavy sigh, takes off his glasses, and says:
“Sleeping during a sermon is only half the problem. The real sin is preaching a sermon that puts the whole parish to sleep.”