Greatest “Typo” Ever

A new monk arrives at the monastery. He is assigned to help the other monks in copying the old texts by hand. He notices, however, that they are copying from copies, and not from the original books.

So, the new monk goes to the head monk to ask him about this. He points out that if there was an error in the first copy, that error would be continued in all of the other copies. The head monk says, “We have been copying from the copies for centuries, but you make a good point, my son.”

So, he goes down into the cellar with one of the copies to check it against the original. Hours later, nobody has seen him. So, one of the monks goes downstairs to look for him. He hears sobbing coming from the back of the cellar and finds the old monk leaning over one of the original books crying. He asks what’s wrong.

“The word is ‘celebrate’, ‘celebrate’!” says the old monk.

The New Monk

A young man entered a monastery hoping to become a monk. The Order which he wished to join had a strict rule of silence. The abbot told him on his first day that he would be on probation for fifteen years. During that time he would be allowed to speak only once every five years and then only for one minute with the abbot himself.

The young man accepted and was registered as a novitiate. Eventually the first five years passed and he was summoned to the abbot’s study.

“How are you going on, my son?” asked the abbot.

“Oh, all right, thank you, Reverend Father,” replied the young man.

“Have you any complaints?” asked the abbot.

“Well, Sir, yes, there is one thing. The porridge is always cold at breakfast. It would be so much nicer if it were hot.”

“Right,” said the abbot, “I will see to that. Time is now up.”

The young man left and did not speak again to anyone for five years. Then he had to go again to the abbot’s study.

“How are you going on?” asked the abbot.

“Oh, all right, thank you, Sir, I think,” answered the novitiate.

“Have you any complaints?” asked the abbot.

“Well, Sir, there is just one thing, the bed is very hard and I find it difficult to sleep. Could I please have a little more straw in my mattress?”

“Right,” said the abbot, “I will see to that. Time is now up.” And the young man had to leave.

Another five years passed and the young man went to see the abbot for the last time.

“Reverend Father,” he said, “my fifteen years’ probation is at an end. Are you going to accept me as a full member of your Order?”

“Dear me, no,” replied the abbot. “You have done nothing but complain since you got here!”

Sounds of the Night

A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, “My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?”

The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, and even fixed his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”

The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way.

Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery. The monks accept him, feed him, and fixed his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier. The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”

The man says, “All right, all right. I’m dying to know. If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?”

The monks reply, “You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk.”

The man sets about his task. Forty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, “I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.”

The monks reply, “Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.”

The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, “The sound is right behind that door.”

The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, “Real funny, may I have the key?”

The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone. The man demands the key to the stone door. The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby.

He demands another key from the monks, who provide it. Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire. So it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, amethyst…

Finally, the monks say, “This is the last key to the last door.”

The man is relieved no end. He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.

But I can’t tell you what it is because you’re not a monk.

A new monk arrives at the monastery. He is assigned to help the other monks in copying the old texts by hand. He notices, however, that they are copying from copies, and not from the original books.

So, the new monk goes to the head monk to ask him about this. He points out that if there was an error in the first copy, that error would be continued in all of the other copies. The head monk says, “We have been copying from the copies for centuries, but you make a good point, my son.”

So, he goes down into the cellar with one of the copies to check it against the original. Hours later, nobody has seen him. So, one of the monks goes downstairs to look for him. He hears sobbing coming from the back of the cellar and finds the old monk leaning over one of the original books crying. He asks what’s wrong.

“The word is ‘celebrate’, ‘celebrate’!” says the old monk.