These two are from the book called "The Power of One" by Bryce Courtenay.

1. 

A granpa is talking to his grandson.

'All I know about the Bible is that wherever it goes there's trouble.
The only time I ever heard of it being useful was when a stretcher bearer I
was with at the battle of Dundee told me that he'd once gotten hit by a Mauser
bullet in the heart, only he was carrying a Bible in his tunic pocket and the
Bible saved his life. He told me that ever since he'd always carried a Bible
into battle with him and he felt perfectly safe because God was in his breast
pocket. We were out looking for a sergeant of the Worcesters and three
troopers who were wounded while out on a reconnaissance and were said to be
holed up in a dry donga. In truth I think my partner felt perfectly safe
because the Boer Mausers were estimated by the British artillery to be
accurate to 800 yards from enemy lines. Alas, nobody bothered to tell the
Boers about the shortcomings of their brand new German rifle and a Mauser
bullet hit him straight between the eyes.'

He puffed at his pipe.

'Which goes to prove, you can always depend on British army information not to
be accurate, the Boers to be deadly accurate, the Bible to be good for matters
of the heart but hopeless for those of the head and finally, that God is in
nobody's pocket.'

2.

There was a little cobbler in a shtetl in Russia who was spreading honey on a
piece of bread when the bread fell to the floor. To his amazement the bread
fell right side up.

'How can this be?' he said, and with the slice of bread in his hand he ran to
consult the rabbi and the village elders.

'We are Jews in Russia, how can it be that I spread honey on my bread and when
it fell to the floor it landed right side up? Since when did luck such as this
come to a Jew?'

The rabbi and the elders pondered the point for several days, consulting the
Torah frequently. Finally they called the little cobbler to the synagogue. The
rabbi pronounced the verdict, 'The answer my boy is quite clear, you honeyed
your bread on the wrong side.'

Now a joke (again a Jewish one - I am afraid).

So, there was a little Mosha, a very poor Jewish kid from a very poor Jewish
family, with lot of brother and sisters, always hungry, etc.

So, each evening before going to sleep he would pray to Jahve (Jewish God)
asking him ... please, please, to let him win the lottery! ...


So, he grew old, even more poor and each night he would say the same prayer. 

So, he married a Jewish girl (more poor then himself) and each night, etc.

So, they had a lot of very poor children and each night, etc.

So, finally little Moshe became old Moshe and he was on his death-bed and for
the last time he asked almighty Jahve to let him win the lottery ... this time
not for him, he was finished, but for his poor innocent kids ...

So, thunders, lightnings, brilliant light, the clouds separate and then the
Almighty Jahve appears with a long white beard and says in a thunderous voice:
"So, buy the lottery ticket at last, you fool!!!"