Pr. Craig Mueller
Lectionary 11a
June 14, 2020
Laughable
In the novel, The Name of the Rose, one monk scolds another monk for suggesting that Jesus ever laughed! Granted, sometimes we desperate preachers try to include a joke in our sermons to get a chuckle out of you—whether or not there is any connection to the theme or the text! Sorry or you’re welcome, I don’t know what to say!
There seems to be little to smile about these days, let alone laugh. A pandemic with rising cases. Racism uncovered in devastating ways. The fifth anniversary this Wednesday of the murder of the nine from Mother Emanuel Church. Divisive, mean tactics from our president. Emotional exhaustion all around. Who has hope for the future when we barely know what we’re doing next month? It’s almost laughable!
Enter the laugh track from our reading from Genesis. Main characters: Abraham and Sarah. Their story is so central to Judaism, Islam and Christianity, if you can’t give an elevator speech about it, listen up, it’s that important! And I’m not joking.
Abraham and Sarah are our faith heroes because they drop everything and leave for a place and a future completely unknown. Either what they did is the supreme act of trust or they are the laughingstock of the human race. If that’s not enough, they are promised that will have a son, though they are so past the age of childbearing that it is beyond funny.
Remember, that for them, having a future means having an heir. When God tells Abraham that he will be a father—when he’s old enough to be a great-great-great-granddad, he rolls over in laughter, that’s the way the Hebrew puts it. And then are those three mysterious guests that show up on camel, hungry. Abraham provides hospitality to the three.
One of the three mystery-guys reminds Abraham that Sarah will soon get pregnant. Way past menopause, Sarah overhears this outrageous claim. And she laughs to herself. Now this isn’t the belly laugh that we could use a good dose of these days. It’s the cynical, “yah, right,” chuckle, under our breath.
We get it. That’s our kind of laughter these days. Yah, right! There’s been so many murders of African Americans for years and centuries, why would we expect things to change now? How can people be so stupid to think it’s safe to be out without a mask or social distancing? All the pie-the-sky hopes for a better world? With so many jerks in charge of things? Been there, seen it all. Yah right. Laugh, laugh.
Sorry to say, Sarah’s snicker is heard. She gets caught She gets caught by God. One of the divine visitors calls her on it. And she denies it. “Who me? I didn’t laugh.” “Oh yes you did, girl.” Oops. I guess we’re caught laughing, too. Not believing God’s promise for a better future.
But did you catch the words of promise from the mystery visitor: “is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” Sure enough, the promise comes true. Abraham and Sarah have a future. Which means a descendent. Which means a son, named Isaac. And what does the word Isaac mean? “He who laughs!”
Doubting, laughing Sarah has a reversal of fortune. Goodness! “God has brought laughter to me,” she says. New life. Gurgles and coos. “Everyone who hears will laugh with me!
Sarah is our laughing forebear in faith because she is like us—finding it hard to trust, to believe, to imagine a new world, a new reality that stretches our minds and hearts.
Irreverent but faithful writer, Anne Lamott pens, “When God is going to do something wonderful, He or She always starts with a hardship. When God is going to do something amazing, He or She starts with an impossibility.”
We’re living it, aren’t we? An old Yiddish proverb says, “if you want to hear God laugh, tell God your plans.” How naïve we’ve been We’re not in control of our lives or in control of the earth, as we thought.
And what becomes of Isaac? Named for laughter, his life was filled with plenty sadness and bitterness.
Yet hear this as well! Paul goes so far in our Romans reading to say that we can rejoice in our sufferings because it builds character and leads to hope. Interpreted too narrowly, even this can be laughable. You mean oppressed or abused people should just turn the other cheek and suffer? No way! Yet read on. God’s love is poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. God is faithful. O blessed hope. O sweet resilience!
Thank goodness Jesus doesn’t laugh off the despicable crowd in today’s gospel. They’re harassed, helpless, like a sheep without a shepherd. Yet, Jesus calls a motley crew, a laughable one, really, to be the team of twelve—a denier, a betrayer, a tax collector, a bunch of uneducated folks who didn’t have training in mission development—to change the world!
He sends them, oh, and don’t forget, he sends us, to labor in ripe fields. To cast out evil. To cure disease. To be signs of healing. To proclaim the good news. To announce and embody God’s love for all, especially those without a voice, those without hope.
All because God is faithful. And God has the last laugh.
When Dante was making his ascent into heaven in the Divine Comedy, he heard what sounded like the “laughter of the universe.” It is the song of Easter. The defeat of death and evil. The cosmos being transformed by God’s unrelenting grace and mercy. A joy Tolkien described as “beyond the walls of this world.”
So laugh with me! Join God’s dream to make the impossible possible.
I love this quote from theologian Harvey Cox: “holy laughter is the gift of grace. It is the human spirit’s last defense against banality and despair.
We praise of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Sarah, Rachel, and Rebekka. Mary, Jesus, and Paul.
God is faithful. You have a future. All will be well. All will be healed. It is the kind of joy we saw at George Floyd’s funeral and at the funeral of the Emmanuel Nine.
Even with hearts breaking, we join the laughter of the universe! For Christ is risen. A good laugh, indeed.