Archive for ‘Nun Jokes’

August 14, 2012

Tuesday Titters: Week 33; Cleanliness is next to Godliness

by Janie Jones

A bus of nuns was involved in a horrible accident and tragically, many of the nuns died.  The accident happened quickly, so the dead nuns congregated in confusion at suddenly finding themselves before a breathtaking gate among the clouds.  Directly beside the gate was a small gilded birdbath, and the sounds of soothing music floated on the sweet air.

“How beautiful!”

“Merciful Heavens!  Where are we?”

“By the Grace of God, I think we are in Heaven!”

As the nuns commented on their new surroundings, a voice cut through their reverent murmurs of delight and surprise.

“Welcome to the Pearly Gates, Sisters!  I am St. Peter.  Before you can pass into Heaven, I’m afraid we must dispense with some formalities.  First, if you would queue up, then one by one you must confess your sins and be absolved.”

Eyes wide, the nuns looked between themselves and St. Peter, then obeyed, shuffling themselves into a line.

“Very good.”  Said St. Peter.  He gestured to the first nun to step forward.  “Sister Mary Frances, isn’t it?”

The nun nodded solemnly.

“Now, my sister, confess to me your sin.”

The nun looked nervously to the line of nuns behind her then at St. Peter.

“Come now, Sister, speak.”

The nun reluctantly spoke, “St. Peter, I am ashamed to admit that, as a girl, I had carnal thoughts of a young man.”

“I see.”   Said St. Peter.  “Is that all?”

“No.”  Said the sister meekly.  “I touched him.”

“You touched a man?  I think that is hardly a sin, Sister.”

“No, St. Peter, you see, I touched him beneath his, ah, his, um…  Well, under his fig leaf.  You know, in a carnal way.”

“Ahh.”  Said St. Peter.  “I see now.  Do you repent this carnal touching?”

“Oh, St. Peter, I do!  I have felt such remorse my whole life!”

“Then wash your hand in the holy water and wash yourself clean from sin.”  St. Peter gestured to the birdbath thing beside the gate.  Reverently, the nun turned to the font and plunged her hand into the water.  She rubbed her hand vigorously, and after a moment the soft music suddenly transformed into a fan fare, and the gate opened.

“Welcome to Heaven, Sister.” St. Peter smiled and gestured the nun through the gates.  Beaming with happiness and relief, the nun passed through the gate and on to eternity.

But, in the midst of this holy scene, St. Peter heard a scuffle and turned angrily to see who would dare disturb the wonder and beauty of the moment.  To his extreme shock and dismay he saw a few nuns thrown to the ground and in the midst of the queue were two nuns grappling with each other.

“BE STILL!”  He bellowed, his voice echoing off the clouds.

Startled, the nuns stopped fighting and stood wide eyed, panting, before St. Peter.  Slowly the other nuns returned to their feet.

“What is the meaning of this, this, sacrilege?”  St. Peter demanded.

Both nuns began to talk at once and tried to elbow their way in front of the other as they spoke.

“I said enough!  I am shocked and appalled by you.  This is your last warning.  Behave with civility or you will reap the consequences of your unchristian behavior.”

The nuns dropped their heads and looked into the clouds at their feet.

“Very well.  Who started this.”

A nun, having just pulled herself up from the clouds, hesitantly ceased wiping stardust from her habit and raised her hand.  “Yes, Sister Hannah?”  Said St. Peter.

“I believe, Sir, that it was Sister Mary Margaret who started it.  She pushed me to the ground.”

St. Peter looked at Sister Mary Margaret.  “Sister, you were at the back of the line, weren’t you?”  Sister Mary Margaret nodded.  “Why did you push Sister Hannah to the ground?”

Sister Mary Margaret raised her head and said in a rush, “After I heard Sister Mary Frances’ confession, I knew I had to get to the front of the line before Sister Agnes.”

Surprised, St. Peter replied, “But Sister Mary Margaret, there is plenty of room in Heaven, and you have all eternity.  There is no need to rush or to use violence.”

“But, Sir,” Sister Mary Margaret objected, “I would much rather gargle before Sister Agnes sits in the font.”