In the village where Nasruddin lived, people didn’t make much distinction between one religion and another; whatever they believed, everyone observed Ramadan, more or less, just because their neighbours were doing so, and when Christmas came, they celebrated that too. So, it was not surprising when, one day in early Spring, while the Mullah was sitting in the tea-house with some friends, they began to talk about what they would give up for Lent.

“I think I’ll give up meat,” said one.

“You’re supposed to give that up anyway,” someone told him. “Think of something else.”

The first one puffed thoughtfully on his pipe, and then through the clouds of smoke said, “Tobacco. I’ll give up tobacco for Lent.” And several agreed they would do the same.

Another one said, “I’m giving up wine. Not a drop will touch my lips.” Again, some thought that was a good idea – they would also give up wine.

A third one said, “I’ll give up some sleep. I’ll get up two hours before sunrise every day for some extra prayers.” And a number of them nodded piously – that sounded like a very good sacrifice to them.

Then the Mullah spoke up. Looking at the group gathered around the table, he said, “And I’m going to give up telling lies. Anyone want to join me?”