The Joke Is on Us - April 17, 2016

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John 20:19-31

Welcome to Holy Humor Sunday. This particular observation is new to me, and probably new to many of you. It is actually an ancient tradition, rooted in the earliest days of Christianity. Theologians like Augustine, Gregory of Nyssa and John Chrysostom noted that on Easter Sunday God played the ultimate practical joke on the devil by raising Jesus from death. They talked about the Easter laugh.
Holy Humor Sunday is traditionally celebrated on the second Sunday of Easter which would have been April 3 this year. A Low Sunday became Bright Sunday.

The Sunday after Easter is indeed often low in attendance. After all, people came to church the week before and they wouldn't want to make a habit of it! Bright Sunday became a time to have parties and picnics to celebrate Christ's resurrection. People wore bright colors. Boys dumped pails of water on the girls who of course retaliated, all in good fun as a way to remember their baptisms. We had other things to do the last two weeks so we moved it to this, the fourth Sunday of Easter.
While we are not going to pass out water balloons today, we are resurrecting this ancient custom. It is a good reminder that it is ok to laugh in church and even to be silly. Let's become known as the Merry Methodists.
The story is told about how the Pope died and appeared before the Pearly Gates. "Welcome, Holy Father," St. Peter greeted him. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" Anything in particular you'd like to see?" The Pope replied, "By any chance do you have the original manuscripts of the Bible or some of the early Christian teachings?" Peter answered, "We sure do. Come with me to the library." So the Pope sat down to read the old documents and Peter went about his business.
Several hours passed and Peter happened to walk by the library. He was startled to hear loud wailing. He rushed in to find the Pope sobbing and pounding the table. "Holy Father, whatever is the problem?" Tears streaming down his face, the Pope looked up and said, "I just saw that all along the word was celebrate."
In our Gospel text this morning the joke is on the ten disciples who had gathered on Easter evening. They had locked the doors for fear of the religious leaders. Mary Magdalene had told them she had seen Jesus risen from the dead. Maybe they feared this news would further anger the religious leaders who had crucified Jesus. Maybe they didn't really believe Mary. The Gospel of Luke tells us that the women's report of Jesus' resurrection seemed to the disciples an "idle tale."
Whatever the reason, there they were, huddled together in fear when all of a sudden Jesus appeared. "Boo!" he might have said. Actually he said, "Peace be with you," but I can just picture the ten startled disciples jumping and shrieking in fright, as if Jesus had said, "boo," like an eight-year-old boy hiding in the bushes to scare his sister.
The joke was on the disciples. They had not truly grasped the full impact of Mary's news. Frightened and unsure they had locked the doors, but no doors could keep Jesus out. "Boo! Peace be with you." Some peace. The joke was on them because now instead of staying safely at home behind those locked doors, Jesus tells them, "As the Father has sent me, so I send you." They must go out to forgive sins and share with others God's best trick – defeating death.
Thomas was not with them that evening. The Bible doesn't say why. The last we heard of Thomas was when Jesus had heard that Lazarus had died. After waiting for several days Jesus finally said, "Let us go to Judea." The other disciples warned, "they were just now trying to stone you." Thomas simply said, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." So it seems there is no doubt about Thomas' loyalty and courage. Maybe he was not with the others because he alone had the guts to stay outside. Or maybe he was the kind of person who prefers to grieve alone.
Whatever the reason, Thomas wasn't there when Jesus appeared to the others. When they told him about it he was not about to fall for their joke. What a mean trick to play, to pretend Jesus was no longer dead. "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, . . . I won't believe," Thomas insisted. Some people are tactile learners, they need to touch something in order to really figure it out.
The joke was on Thomas. "Knock, knock, Thomas." "Who's there?" "Jesus." "Jesus who?" "Jesus, your Lord and God." It took a week before Jesus showed up again and this time Thomas was there. "Put your finger here and see my hands," Jesus told him but there's no indication that Thomas took him up on the offer. He believed. We have often called him Doubting Thomas but I think a better name for him is Believing Thomas.
The joke is on us: doubt is often simply the pathway to belief. Doubt is the straight man to God's best lines, it prepares the way for belief to develop. We do ourselves a disservice when we banish doubt as a bad thing. Asking the hard questions of faith: Did God create the world in six days or did it evolve over millions of years? Why do bad things happen to good people? Is Jesus really alive?" Those questions move us more deeply into faith. They help us to claim faith as our own rather than simply an inherited relic. Without those deep questions faith stays at a surface level. With them we probe more deeply into a stronger faith.
The joke is on us. Out of death God gets the best punch line for all time: eternal life. Here's the joke: death is overturned. Death is no more.
I don't want to dismiss too lightly the impact of sorrow. Of course we miss the earthly presence of our loved ones when they die. We miss their companionship, their hugs, their voices, their jokes.
In about two months I will leave Moscow and move to Vancouver, WA to be pastor at the Mill Plain United Methodist Church. Already I am grieving at leaving Moscow. In these last two months since this new appointment was announced, I have been noting the many things I will miss when I go: the children, some of whom I have watched grow into youth. I have baptized, taught Sunday School, confirmation, and acolyte classes. I will miss the choir, the bells, listening to the marimbas practice overhead while I sit in a Trustees meeting. I will miss the babies who are even now developing their own personalities. I will miss Africa Sunday, Family Promise and other mission programs. Did I say I will miss the children?
Yes, I grieve at leaving here – and I trust you will thrive and grow under your new pastor's leadership. I don't tend to come back to visit: initially it is too painful and mostly I want you to bond with the new pastor.
Sorrow at the deaths of our loved ones is a lot like the sorrow I feel at leaving you. Of course we miss the presence of our dear ones. The joke is on us, however, because God has defeated death. We will be reunited with our loved ones, who have been freed of their infirmities and raised to glory. Our grief now, real as it is, is only temporary.
So you see, the joke is on us: all along the word was celebrate.