Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Luke 6:21
When I woke up on Tuesday morning I thought the most momentous event of the day was going to be the delivery of our new 56 inch TV. It turns out God had other plans. My wife called in the middle of the afternoon with the news that her sister’s husband had died in an
accident at work. We spent most of the rest of the day at their house alternately hearing or speaking the phrase “if there is anything I can do….”
When we finally went home and got the kids in bed, I set about hooking up the TV – more because the box was taking up most of our living room than out of any overwhelming desire to watch TV. After I had scratched my head over the various connections for a few minutes, my wife said, “This is when we would normally call John.”
Actually we probably wouldn’t have, as John was always being pestered to help with things like that. I assured her, without in any way dismissing John’s mastery of all things electrical, that I thought we could manage this particular crisis without his help. My morbid sense of humor being my defense against anything unpleasant, I was tempted to say something really inappropriate, like, “That John will do anything to get out of helping somebody hook up a TV.” But for the hundredth time that day, I bit my tongue. Remarks like that are charitably called “gallows humor,” and less charitably called “in really bad taste.”
I’m pretty sure John would have appreciated the joke, though. John loved to laugh, particularly about silly little jokes like that, poking fun of him or someone else.
I’ve thought a lot lately about what it is that makes people laugh. I believe it's the recognition of unity in the absurd, the mind's delight in the reconciliation of paradoxes. Humor is the mental equivalent of jujitsu -- chanelling the momentum of the painful and incomprehensible into something elegant and fitting, if not entirely comfortable. It is the release of tension brought about by the deflation of the revered and the glorification of the wretched, the satisfying of expectations in an unexpected way.
I believe that we are wired to find joy in such things. I think God made us this way, probably because God Himself has a sense of humor. After all, He made a shy, stuttering man the leader of His people. He overlooked all the great men of Israel to crown a lowly shepherd boy King. He spoke through an ass, a burning bush, and a still, small voice. He made fools of the prophets of Ba'al without breaking a sweat.
I believe, in fact, that God orchestrated the greatest joke of all time. I mean no disrespect to my non-Christian readers (nor to my Christian readers), but this is what I believe: I believe God made the Infinite into the finite, the Immortal into mortal, Divine into man. And this man, Jesus Christ, brought down the mighty and exalted the meek and poor in spirit. He turned everything on its head. The first were made last, the last first. He satisfied the expectations of the prophets in a way no one could have expected. He made a mockery of humanity's quest for money and power. He even ridiculed man’s attempts to try to live a righteous life. To the rich young man who insisted he had kept all of God's commandments, Jesus said, like Columbo asking for "just one more thing:"
Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.“Oh, so that's all you want?” You can imagine the young man saying. “Everything? Well, I think I have somewhere I need to be. Nice talking to you!”
Jesus made a mockery even of death. Having overcome every obstacle thrown in His path by every power on hell and earth, He was finally given over to the ultimate punishment, humanity's greatest fear.
Oh, that? He said (I’m paraphrasing here).
That will take a bit longer. Give me three days. Whether or not you buy this story, you have to admit that it's pretty funny. Thousands of years of plotting by Satan and his minions, and Jesus kicks all of their asses over a long weekend. And how? By being humiliated, dying and coming back to life. It’s perfect and perfectly absurd. Horrific and wonderful.
These are my words, my thoughts. Not Johns’s. John and I had different ways of looking at things. But John was my brother-in-law and brother in Christ. I don’t pretend to know what heaven is, but if anyone is in a better place, it’s John. I take comfort in that knowledge.
Some part of me also wonders if maybe John had learned everything he needed to here on this plane, so God called him home for some greater purpose. But what could possibly be so important that God had to pull him away from his duties as a husband and father? Here my reason fails me and my imagination takes over, trying to put together the pieces that don’t seem to fit:
I see John walking through the pearly gates, and God is there to greet him.
God says, “Welcome home, John!”
John replies, “Thanks. It’s wonderful to be here. Really, it is. But can I ask you a question?”
God says, “Sure, John. What is it?”
“Well, I kind of thought that I had more to do on earth. There were a lot of people depending on me….”
“I know, John. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of them. I just really needed you up here with me.”
“Really? Because I got the impression I was needed quite a bit down there as well.”
“You did a lot of good down there, John, but now I’ve got something else in mind for you.”
“I understand,” John says. “So what is it?”
“Well, you see,” God says, “I just got this new TV….”
I know, it’s a bad joke. But it’s all I’ve got.
Labels: Christianity, Serious Stuff