[There are hundreds of clean Catholic jokes. Here are two. Please feel free to email me some of your favorites by email and you may see it here some future Silly Saturday:
A man is struck by a bus on a busy street in New York City. He lies dying on the sidewalk as a crowd of on-lookers gathers around. “A priest. Somebody get me a priest!” the man gasps. A policeman checks the crowd—-no priest, no minister, no man of God of any kind. “A PRIEST, PLEASE!” the dying man says again. Then out of the crowd steps a little old man dressed shabbily and of at least eighty years of age.
“Mr. Policeman,” says the man, “I’m not a priest. I’m not even a Catholic. But for fifty years now I’ve been living behind St. Elizabeth’s Catholic Church on First Avenue, and every night I’ve listened to the Catholic litany. Maybe I can be of some comfort to this man.”
The policeman agrees and brings the octogenarian over to where the dying man lay.
He kneels down, leans over the injured man and says slowly in a solemn voice:”B-4. I-19. N-38. G-54. O-72…”
Years ago, someone asked the question:
“Where do monsignors come from — how are they made?”
It happened at a reception in honor of a newly named monsignor, Fr. Fenton J. Runge, director of the Papal Volunteer program of the St. Louis archdiocese.
“Well, it’s like this,” Msgr. Runge said in reply to the question.
“A priest is ordained.
“A bishop is consecrated.
“But a monsignor is only ‘created.’ And you know what creation is — that’s making something out of nothing.”
— J. F. Gecik (firstname.lastname@example.org), February 27, 2001
[Picture: This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.]