“On the third day he rose again.”
Eighth Sermon on the Apostles’ Creed
Ordinary Time II; January 15, 2006
John 21:1-14
How many Presbyterians does it take to change a light bulb? Four: one to change the bulb and three to reminisce about how great the old bulb was.
How do we know Presbyterians will be the first in the general Resurrection of the dead? Because Scripture says that the dead in Christ shall rise first (I Thessalonians 4:16).
How do we know that Adam was a Presbyterian? Who else could stand next to a naked woman and be tempted by a piece of fruit?
Actually, the way I heard that joke, the question was about Adam being a Lutheran. Garrison Keillor told it, of course, on his joke show (April 17, 2004). He tells jokes about Lutherans; I tell them about Presbyterians. We both tell jokes about Unitarians. Why is the singing so bad in Unitarian churches? People are always reading ahead to the next line to see if they agree with it first. What do you get when you cross a Jehovah’s Witness with a Unitarian? Someone who goes around knocking on doors but doesn’t know why.
There’s a custom of celebrating the Resurrection of Jesus by telling jokes, maybe even of playing harmless practical jokes. I suspect that has something to do with the background of April Fool’s Day, although I don’t really know that. One year, on April Fool’s Day, our church custodian put a sign on the Men’s Room door that read, “Reverend Bob’s Reading Room” and put a reading lamp and magazine stand inside.
Why laugh about the Resurrection? Because it’s the best joke ever: God pulled a fast one on the Devil. Now, your commitment to Jesus Christ does not require you to believe in the existence of a literal devil, so you are welcome to interpret that word to mean “the systemic powers of evil.” When I say, “devil,” you can hear “devil” or “systemic powers of evil,” as you prefer.
The Devil is always so solemn, so sure of himself. He is filled with the dignity of the weight of his office and does all he must to ensure the continuation of his power, with complete and utter seriousness. I’m sure Jesus’ predictions of his resurrection escaped Old Scratch completely, since they would come across as pure nonsense. But nonsense is what was required. As the Devil was solemnly celebrating his victory over the Son of God, the Crucified One was busy harrowing hell – as I talked about last week – and telling everyone who was willing to listen to such nonsense how to get out. Then, on the third day, the power of God reached in and brought Christ out, right as the second assistant Vice President devil was finishing his toast to Satan’s ingenuity.
So, the Resurrection of Jesus is God’s joke on the Devil. If you’re thinking, “systemic powers of evil” when I say that word, then you’re still right on the mark. Christians dare to laugh at evil, because it is losing its grip on life. We can laugh at government when it so solemnly consolidates the power of the wealthy and slashes programs that provide the national infrastructure for all. We can laugh at industry when its pursuit of profit lays waste to the land and defrauds the public. We can laugh at the Church when its concern for institutional self-preservation indulges lies and abuse, as well as neglect of its fundamental mission. Sometimes passionate anger, rightly directed, may be a more faithful response. But every political cartoonist knows that laughter is a highly effective tool.
Right at the level where you and I live most of the time we know about the goodness of laughter. I met a lady with enormous medical troubles, valiantly facing another surgery on her throat to deal with a resurgent cancer. Her stories and witticisms had me laughing so hard I could barely speak. Finally I mustered the wind to say how much I admired her good humor in the face of all her trials. She said, “You laugh or you cry.”
Laughter at such a time can be, I suppose, the hollow bitterness of a lost cause. But not for those who trust in Jesus Christ. Since Jesus Christ is raised from the dead, no good cause is ever lost. What kept Martin Luther King, Jr. going in the face of his trials? His confidence in the justice and power of God. In his sermon, “The death of evil upon the seashore,”1 he said that God’s victory over evil is slow, but it is assured. God does not overwhelm the powers of evil with the complete triumph of the Kingdom of God, but God puts his Kingdom within his people, who work for it in hope. If God can raise Christ from the dead, what can’t God do?
The laughter of a Christian in the face of evil is the laughter of one who knows that the Kingdom of God is among us because Christ is raised from the dead. You can’t tie God’s Kingdom down, put it in handcuffs, lock it away somewhere so the world can get about its solemn business of destroying itself. God’s Kingdom keeps bursting out, like Christ from the tomb, overturning the Devil’s banquet table so he gets the chocolate mousse all over his suit coat.
“You laugh or you cry,” my cancer patient said. I don’t know anything about her Christian commitment, but I realize now she knew something about resurrection. To laugh at cancer, to laugh at Congress, to laugh at clergy: we are all tainted by evil and here we are beset by the joy of resurrection.
In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe – both the book and the movie – do you remember what Aslan felt he needed to do right after he was restored to life? He roared, a magnificent, powerful roar full of the sheer joy of being alive. Again. In The Cotton Patch Gospel, Jesus is raised from the dead and his disciples gather around, eager to hear his first words. He says, “It worked!”
For years I was part of a group of Presbyterian ministers who met monthly for lunch; this was not the discussion group some of you have heard me talk about, but a group that met simply for fellowship. A newspaper reporter who was doing a series on people eating lunch out joined us once and wrote about us in the paper the next week. He said to us, “You sure laugh a lot.” One of us said, “We take God very seriously,” and another added, “But ourselves not at all.”2
Right there may be the other side of Resurrection laughter: to laugh at ourselves. We laugh at the Devil because Christ has tricked him so, and the victory of God over the systemic powers of evil, even in government, religion and business, is assured. Slow, but assured. We laugh at ourselves because we look so silly trying to save ourselves, trying to make ourselves important, trying to hammer everybody into a mold we make for them. Christ has the power of life; Christ is the one who is raised; how dare we take ourselves so seriously?
You may know Robert Burns’ wonderful poem “To a Louse.” The poet is seated in church, and sees an elegant lady walking importantly down the aisle. There is a louse on her hat, ruining the picture of herself she is trying to present to everyone. Burns says:
I wad na been surpris’d to spy
You on an auld wife’s flannen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On’s wyliecoat;
But Miss’s fine Lunardi! fie,
How daur ye do’t?
O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
And foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait wad lea’e us,
And ev’n devotion!3
You laugh or you cry. The faithful, of course, do both, but still the root choice presents itself. Perhaps the difference is made by whether you accept Jesus’ invitation to “Come and have breakfast” or sit sullenly on the seashore, your back to him. Either way, you’re going to look silly, so you might as well get in on the joke.
Let us pray. Lord of life, we thank you for the resurrection of our Savior, for his victory over the powers of death and evil, and for the invitation to share in his laughter over fish and bread. Awaken in us the Kingdom of God, so we may move forward in hope. Through Christ our risen Savior; Amen.
Robert A. Keefer
Westminster Presbyterian Church
Clarinda, Iowa
[1] Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength to Love (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1963), pp. 76-85.
2 Cliff Radel, “In their line of work, nothing like a little irreverent humor,” The Cincinnati Enquirer, May 20, 1998; pages B1 and B6.
3 I would not be surprised to find you on an old-wife’s flannel cap; Or perhaps on a small, ragged boy’s waistcoat; but how do you dare be on Miss’s fine (designer hat)? O if only the Giver would give us the power to see ourselves as others see us! It would free us from many a blunder and foolish notion; What airs in dress and walk would leave us, And even devotion! (My paraphrase; Robert Burns, “To a Louse,” in The Works of Robert Burns; Ware, Hertfordshire, England: Wordsworth Editions, 1994; pp. 138-139; lines 31-36 and 43-48).