Mockingbird
Genesis 18:1-15; Galatians 6:1-16
April 11, 2010
The story goes that some archeologists in Israel made a remarkable discovery and very quickly the Vatican was called. The Pope was told by one of his closest advisors that the archeologists had conclusively discovered the actual bones of Jesus in a grave. Pretty complicated to explain with all that technical stuff, but there was no doubt about it.
The Pope knew this would be earth-shattering news to the Christian world, even faith shattering. It would mean that the resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ did not happen as the Church had taught for nearly 2000 years. Would the walls of the Church come tumbling down?
“What do we do?” asked the worried Pope. “Let’s call that Anglican bishop, John Shelby Spong, in New Jersey and see what he might suggest.”
OK, so they called up Bishop Spong and told him the whole story. There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. “You mean,” Spong finally answered, “that Jesus really existed?”
There is a whole gamut of responses to such a joke. For many it is blasphemy, pure and simple, and no laughing matter. “God is not mocked” comes the angry accusation. There are, after all, limits when you make fun of the Creator of all existence. For a lot of people and a lot of denominations, religious faith is no joking matter.
Sure, there are blasphemous statements: ideas that undermine the proper conduct of faith. But there are lots of times, thank heavens, when something is just plain funny and I am convinced that takes precedent in the heavenly circles.
A lot of church congregations don’t, won’t, or can’t sing. That’s too bad, but the world doesn’t end and the worship is not any less genuine or devout.
A lot of church congregations do not show much emotion or enthusiasm during worship. They are not “responsive” congregations in the manner of many black and Pentecostal churches, openly dialoguing with the preacher during the sermon.
Again, it’s all in the style that feels comfortable. We are not “responsive” in the overt sense here, but you and I know there is often plenty of participation in the sermon and worship service on the average Sunday, even if the thoughts are, “I wish he’d finish so I could make the Roughriders’ kickoff.” I have often felt mightily encouraged in just such a way.
Yet even though a particular group of church people can’t sing and won’t shout ‘Amen’, I have met few congregations that don’t laugh during worship. You always have to worry about a church that won’t laugh.
Actually, one of the best churches I have ever known and served was one of the latter - Pine United Methodist Church in San Francisco where I was the youth minister during seminary. It was the first Japanese-American Methodist church in the US, founded in the 1860’s.
A wonderful and warm bunch of people, yet, they would not laugh, at least during worship. Occasionally I would preach at a Presbyterian church two blocks down the street and then come back to Pine to preach the same sermon. Same sermon, same jokes that had the Presbyterians in stitches, but not raise a smirk from the dignified Japanese.
A general rule is that you do not mock God with the words you use, but with what you do. There are lots of God-mockers, many using religious language as their linguistic front, and many others never saying a mumblin’ word about God.
We mock God whenever we despise, neglect, and discriminate against other human beings. We mock God when we make out something else to be the ultimate concern for our lives - money, power and prestige, comfort, even family.
Laughter is one of our faith’s strongest weapons against idolatry. When we tell a joke and poke fun at someone or some institution, we bring them back down to earth from their Tower of Babel upon which they pretend to be more godly than human.
Telling some jokes is dangerous and requires much courage, because there are few people more enraged than a pompous and powerful demagogue whose nose has just been tweaked.
John Wesley was riding on his circuit to preach one day when he met a pompous country magistrate, mounted on a stately charger. The magistrate, looking with scorn and disdain upon the little apostle of Methodism, exclaimed roughly, “I shall not give the road to a fool.” Wesley very calmly reined his horse to the left, and quietly replied, “But I will.”
Gardner Taylor retired as the pastor of Progressive Baptist Church in Brooklyn, New York, where he served for over 30 years. Renowned not only as the consummate preacher in the African-American tradition, he was also a student of all preaching, white and black.
During a series of lectures to ministers about preaching, the issue of extemporaneous preaching arose. He noted that a lot of congregations are greatly impressed by this style, assuming the preacher must be speaking “straight from the heart.” Taylor told the following story.
Brother Edward told his ministerial colleagues that he had begun to preach in the following manner: “The first half of the sermon I write it all down and have the manuscript in the pulpit with me. Then in the second half of the sermon, I let God take over.”
One Sunday Brother John was on vacation and decided to hear Brother Edward give the word. Afterwards, Edward eagerly approached John for his opinion of his preaching. “I liked your part better than God’s part,” John answered.
Humor, jokes and laughter have an ability found nowhere else to help break through and transcend all our most determined defenses. Particularly in religious faith, in which the rational mind sometimes has to be left behind, humor helps one to leap through logic and make connections with a deeper reality.
Brother Edward had convinced himself he was letting God preach through him, when it was really his own ego and lust for showmanship that was taking over in the second half of his sermons. Brother John’s observation meant exactly the opposite of his words. God was actually using Edward’s humble mind to preach through his written manuscript in the first half, while it was he who was preaching the second part. But John had to state the ridiculous, “You’re a better preacher than God,” to get across the point.
The scandal of the New England Puritan village was the man and woman who shamelessly lived together for a number of years without the benefit of marriage. They did not seem to care what others thought and their audacity had their fellow citizens stymied.
One day the parson encountered the couple in the village center. “Samuel, are you still satisfied with this uncomely woman with her unpleasant spirit and stubborn ways?” Deeply annoyed, the man replied, “Indeed I am!” “Sarah, are you putting up yet with this lazy, poor provider of a man who is ill-tempered and not handsome to boot?” Breathing fire, Sarah hissed through her clenched teeth, “I most certainly am!” “Then,” the wise as a serpent parson concluded, “by the power invested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and Almighty God, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
Laughing with God can be dangerous. Remember Sarah, the 90-year old wife of Abraham, who laughed when the suggestion was made that she might now become pregnant. She gave birth to a son and they named him Isaac, which means “he laughs.”
Edward Taylor was a Methodist preacher in the mid-1800’s in Brooklyn who had acquired the nickname of ‘Father.’ A young minister once asked him, “Father Taylor, what did you think of my sermon this morning?”
Father Taylor laid his hand gently and tenderly on the young man’s shoulder, “My dear young brother, if your biblical text had the smallpox, your sermon would never have caught it. Good morning.”
May all our souls become infected with the God who is laughing with us.
Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan