Holy Hilarity

Hearing laughter from one of the rooms where a Bible study class was meeting Sunday morning, I cracked opened the door and teased, “What’s this, laughter in church?”

They answered with more laughter.

And why not laugh in church? There certainly is a time for being quiet and even for sadness. As the author of Ecclesiastes wrote, “There is an appointed time for everything…” including, “a time to cry and a time to laugh.”

Early this morning, on this Monday of what the church calls Holy or Passion Week, I stepped outside into the darkness, looked to the stars and pondered what Jesus endured on the way to his ignominious death. I am at a loss, unable to grasp the depth of his pain. It’s unpleasant to think of it. I still can’t bear to watch certain scenes of Mel Gibson’s film, The Passion of Christ.

But then as I think about what Christ went through, sadness gives way to gratitude, and gratitude to joy.

My furrowed brow relaxes as I softly smile.

Even during the somberness that characterizes much of this week in the liturgical cycle of the church, Christians still have cause for joy, for we have Easter always in our hearts, even as we gaze toward it on the horizon, waiting for its celebration.

It’s the anticipation of joy that helps us endure the losses of this life.  Indeed the Scripture says Jesus endured the cross, “because of the joy awaiting him”(Hebrews 12:2).

On Easter Sunday, sadness turns to joy, tears of shame to tears of praise, and mourning into dancing.

I’m planning to begin that day by laughing.

I decided to do that when I read about an Early Church tradition. Following the thrill of the resurrection on Sunday, the early saints gathered together on Monday to feast, sing, and dance.  One author commented on this practice: “With Eastertide began the ‘laughing of the redeemed and the dancing of the liberated.’”

Some believe this tradition was inspired by a famous Easter midnight sermon of John Chrysostom (c.349-407), Archbishop of Constantinople. In that message, he described a vision he had of Christ confronting the devil. To Chrysostom’s amazement, Christ laughed at the devil.

It makes sense: Satan thought he had won on Friday, but God had the last laugh on Sunday. It was God’s cosmic joke on Satan.

And so the tradition began and was carried down through the years. Priests would join with people in telling their best jokes for one another. Laughter prevailed.

St. Francis of Assisi advised, “Leave sadness to the devil. The devil has reason to be sad.”

Martin Luther penned, “God is not a God of sadness, but the devil is. Christ is a God of joy. It is pleasing to…God whenever you rejoice or laugh from the bottom of your heart.”

And Michelangelo admonished his fellow artists: “Why do you keep filling gallery after gallery with endless pictures of…Christ upon the cross, Christ dying, Christ hanging dead? Why do you stop there as if the curtain closed upon that horror? Keep the curtain open, and with the cross in the foreground, let us see beyond it to the Easter dawn with its beams streaming upon the risen Christ…”

John Wesley wrote, “Sour godliness is the devil’s religion.”

The bottom line is, Satan can’t stand laughter when it comes as a result of a relationship with the risen Christ.  So believers have reason to rejoice everyday of the year. Because of Christ’s resurrection we have the assurance of being more than conquerors (Romans 8:37), joint heirs with him (Romans 8:17), the apple of God’s eye (Zechariah 2:8), redeemed (Isaiah 43:1), and children of God (John 1:12). And that’s just a start.

Think about that. Then walk outside, look to the heavens, think of your destiny with the King of kings and Lord of lords, and let loose with some holy hilarity.