There was a severe drought. After mass, the peasants gathered in front of the church and began to reprimand the priest: how many times he had prayed for rain, but there was still no rain. Apparently his prayer is displeasing to God.
But the priest was no fool and said:
“I wanted to tell you, brothers, that yesterday I received an order from heaven to agree with you how much rain you need and on what day exactly.”
The headman speaks:
- Yes, even tomorrow, Monday.
And the pop replies:
- Tomorrow is not possible. I hired day laborers to weed the corn.
“Well, on Tuesday,” the headman suggests.
“Have you not seen how much bread I have laid out on the threshing floor to dry?” - says another peasant.
- So let's go on Wednesday.
“It’s impossible on Wednesday,” the third objected, “I have a holiday, and if my guests get wet, what will I do?”
“Well, that means Thursday,” says the headman.
But the fourth one interrupts:
- How was Thursday? So I can't marry my son?
- Then on Friday.
“You can’t do it on Friday,” the fifth one puts in, “people say that Friday is a hard day - there will be no luck.”
- Then, brothers, on Saturday.
“Hey, I can’t,” answers the sixth, “they’ll bring me two oxen and I’ll have to try them.”
Here the pope intervened:
- Listen, good people! Agree among yourselves and give me an answer next Sunday.
But by the next Sunday the peasants could not agree, and until today they have not come to anything.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru