In defence of joy

Over my many years as a preacher, I’ve occasionally found myself in hot water, some of which I boiled myself. I cringe as I remember making remarks I hadn’t thought through, told stories that didn’t work, or made asides that should have been left aside. I have inserted my foot in my mouth enough times to give myself indigestion. 

But sometimes I’ve received criticism simply because I love to use humour in my talks. I’ve always believed that Christians should be able to laugh, and I’ve found that good, clean humour can be a great aid to communication. When we respond to an amusing story, it’s evidence that our brain has truly connected to an idea. But not everyone agrees that a light touch is appropriate in religious circles. 

One rather poker-faced chap approached me after a sermon, his face grim: “Listen here, Jeff,” he began, as if I had a choice. “In this church, we don’t have fun. We have joy. The joy of the Lord.” As I surveyed his sombre features, it occurred to me that this joy had to be buried very deep, as there seemed to be little evidence of it.

Some believers feel uncomfortable with anything that remotely looks like fun because they have imbibed an unbiblical view of reverence: the notion that, in order to please God, we are called to tiptoe around him, our voices permanently lowered. 

faith affirms that one day, tears will be banished and deep, rich laughter will be ours

But to revere someone is to do what they ask of you, and our God calls us to shout for joy, clap our hands in praise and celebrate. If in doubt, consult the feasts and festivals of the Old Testament era, where a lot of partying and merriment was commanded. 

There is an ancient Eastern Orthodox tradition that devotes the day after Easter to sitting around a table and telling jokes – it’s called hilaritas. After the sombre reflections of Easter week, our Orthodox friends have a day devoted to the sharing of giggles. Surely, they do this because of what we as disciples know – that even though Satan thought he’d destroyed the bringer of love and life, God has the last laugh. 

Writer William J Bausch calls the resurrection “the cosmic joke” that God pulled on the devil. “Satan thought he had won, and was smug in his victory, smiling to himself, having had the last word. So he thought. Then God raised Jesus from the dead, and life and salvation became the last words. And the whole world laughed at the devil’s discomfort.”

This does not mean that we are endlessly ecstatic. We acknowledge the very real difficulties of life. Bodies get old, relationships crumble, money runs out and, if you’re a believer in a land where loving Jesus is a crime, you spend every day on a precipice of uncertainty. Those realities are no joke. 

But with the nod comes a knowing wink, because faith affirms that one day, tears will be banished and deep, rich laughter will be ours; when, in the presence of Christ, we celebrate the final death of death. This is Exodus laughter – the joy of slaves set free.  

As Bishop Graham Tomlin says: “The images Jesus used to describe the kingdom were always full of delight. It is like a feast with lavish food and great hilarity, or a woman finding a priceless lost necklace and throwing a party to celebrate…miserable, gloomy and dull churches have simply missed the point.”

So I will continue in my love of laughter. As for you, today, may you smile, giggle and even laugh out loud. It will be good practice for the marriage supper that’s to come.