A new monk arrives at the monastery and is assigned to help the other monks in copying the old texts by hand. When he looks closer, however, he notices that they are copying copies, not the original books.
The new monk goes to the head monk to ask him about this. He points out to the head monk that should there be an error in the first copy, that error would be continued in all of the other copies.
"We have been copying from the copies for centuries," says the head monk, "however, I must admit you make a very good point, my son."
The head monk then goes down to the cellar with one of the copies to check it against the original. Hours pass and no one sees him, so one of the monks decides to go downstairs to look for him. When he arrives he hears loud sobbing coming from the back of the cellar and finds the old head monk leaning over one of the original books crying.
"What's wrong," he asks the old monk.
"The word is CELEBRATE!" sobs the old monk.
Two monks from different monasteries were old friends who shared a great fondness for cigars. Once each year when they had a chance to visit, they would pray together and, of course, light up.
Eventually, however, they became concerned that there might be some sin in their habit and they each resolved to ask their respective superiors for guidance.
When they met again, one was puffing away.
"But the head of my monastery told me it was a sin," protested the other.
"What did you ask him?" said the first.
"I asked him if it was all right to smoke during evening prayer and he said, 'No.'"
"Well," said his friend as he blew a perfect smoke ring into the air, "I asked my superior if it was alright to pray during our evening smoke and he said it was just fine!"
There was an earthquake at the Christian Brothers' monastery and it was levelled. All fifty brothers were transported to heaven at the one time.
An angel said, "How many of you want to go to paradise?"
Forty-nine hands went up.
"Right!" said the angel. "You forty-nine can go down to paradise. Oh, and take that deaf one with you!"
There is a story about a monastery in Europe perched high on a cliff several hundred feet in the air. The only way to reach the monastery was to be suspended in a basket which was pulled to the top by several monks who pulled and tugged with all their strength. Obviously the ride up the steep cliff in that basket was terrifying. One tourist got exceedingly nervous about half-way up as he noticed that the rope by which he was suspended was old and frayed.With a trembling voice he asked the monk who was riding with him in the basket how often they changed the rope. The monk thought for a moment and answered brusquely, "Whenever it breaks."
Vow Of Silence
At a remote monastery deep in the woods, the monks followed a rigid vow of silence. This vow could only be broken once a year on Christmas, by one monk, and the monk could speak only one sentence.
One Christmas, Brother Thomas had his turn to speak and said, "I love the delightful mashed potatoes we have every year with the Christmas roast!" Then he sat down. Silence ensued for 365 days.The next Christmas, Brother Michael got his turn, and said, "I think the mashed potatoes are lumpy and I truly despise them!" Once again, silence ensued for 365 days.
The following Christmas, Brother Paul rose and said, "I am fed up with this constant bickering!"