Every Sunday, a little old lady placed $1,000 in the collection plate. This went on for weeks until the priest, overcome by curiosity, approached her. “Sister, I couldn’t help but notice that you put $1,000 a week in the collection plate,” he stated.
“Why yes,” she replied, “every week my son sends me money, and what I don’t need I give to the church.”
“That’s wonderful, how much does he send you?”
“Oh, $20,000 a week.”
“Your son is very successful, what does he do for a living?”
“He is a veterinarian,” she answered.
“That is a very honorable profession. Where does he practice?”
“Well, he has one cat house in Las Vegas and another in Reno.”
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An old preacher was dying. He sent a message for his IRS agent and his lawyer (both church members), to come to his home.
When they arrived, they were ushered up to his bedroom. As they entered the room, the preacher held out his hands and motioned for them to sit on each side of the bed. The preacher grasped their hands, sighed contentedly, smiled and stared at the ceiling.
For a time, no one said anything. Both the IRS agent and the lawyer were touched and flattered that the old preacher would ask them to be with him during his final moment. They were also puzzled because the preacher had never given any indication that he particularly liked either one of them.
Finally, the lawyer asked, “Preacher, why did you ask the two of us to come?”
The old preacher mustered up some strength, then said weakly, “Jesus died between two thieves, and that’s how I want to go, too.”
