And God Created Laughter: The Eighth Day

Laughter in the Old Testament

Karl-Josef Kuschel outlines four ways in which laughter occurs in the Bible: human beings laugh at God, God laughs at rulers, God laughs at the wicked, and God laughs with inscrutability and ambiguity. ³

Laughter in the New Testament

Many scholars make the point that the New Testament proclaims a joyful kingdom of God, which Jesus, the Son of God, has ushered in. Of all the Gospels, Luke particularly paints a bright, ebullient time of rejoicing whenever and wherever the kingdom breaks through; Luke employs “joy” and its cognates more than any other writer in the New Testament. In the birth narratives (Luke 1–2) Mary, Elizabeth, the angels, and the shepherds, and later Jesus too, addressing the inhabitants of Nazareth (4:18–19), all see this new, messianic age as a time in which joy will be a constitutive part, though Jesus’ message elicits rage rather than delight on the part of his Nazareth audience (4:28–30). ¹⁷

Continuing his analysis of New Testament joy, Kuschel associates that joy with laughter. He offers as examples Jesus’ extensive use of parables, especially the “Parables of the Lost” in Luke 15, but also includes Luke’s beatitudes (6:20–23), to which I would add Matthew’s as well (Matt 5:1–12). He contrasts the mockery of Jesus by soldiers, officials, and the observing public at the passion and crucifixion with the joy of the resurrection, the most salient part of this discussion—for it is the resurrection that rewrites the whole story of biblical laughter. ¹⁸

The New Testament contains at least three comical moments that come readily to mind. Not surprisingly, they occur in the Acts of the Apostles, the second volume written by the ever-so-joyful evangelist Luke, whose grand narrative describes the post-resurrection church. The first comic narrative features the servant girl Rhoda, along with the apostle Peter, and involves a humorous routine still used by writers and actors today (Acts 12:12–17). It opens with a tense, dramatic scene necessitating silence and discretion. The seriousness of the matter is turned on its head, however, when the earnest yet excitable Rhoda, recognizing the somber and highly respected apostle at the door, leaves him in the cold as she runs to tell everyone inside that he is standing at the gate. The second is the story of the young Eutychus at Troas, who is listening to Paul drone on and on into the night, dozes off while sitting on a window sill, and once asleep, falls three stories to the ground (20:7–12). The fact that Eutychus does not die but is resuscitated by Paul turns what could be a cruel form of mockery into comic relief. The third example recounts Paul before the Sanhedrin (23:6–10). The apostle’s very life is at stake, and through a ruse, he instigates the Pharisees and Sadducees to start arguing among themselves; in the ensuing mêlée, the soldiers pull him to safety. The “Three Stooges” could not have done it better.

These three accounts underscore that Luke, and Paul to a certain extent, ¹⁹ along with a few others, reference joy as one of the hallmarks of the kingdom of God. Moreover, the joy they describe entails laughter and revelry. That the Bible does not evidence much of this laughter and revelry really should not be a problem in understanding humor’s role in the providence of God, for we live now in the Eighth Day that God’s Word created and continues to create. Thus, the question is not so much a search for laughter in the Bible but a recognition of the humor and laughter in the world that the biblical tradition has produced. A major part of this tradition is found in the Wisdom books.

Laughter in Wisdom Literature

Although some readers may conclude that the Wisdom literature sees laughter as the hallmark of sin, ²⁰ a careful reading of the material shows otherwise. The Wisdom books do present laughter in the mouths of fools who reject the teachings of God, whereas they depict the wise as more sober and not easily given to laughter. While on the surface, it may seem that the wisdom tradition sees laughter in a negative light, it is necessary to look to the crucial descriptor that surfaces so often in the works of Wisdom: foolish. Laughter itself is not sin; rather, sin lies in the laughter of the unwise who fail to see life in all its complexity. Such laughter is indicative of those who stray from the Lord. Simultaneously, the hand of God is evident in that same complexity, and the wise are the ones who notice it:

A person is known by his appearance, and a sensible person is known when first met, face to face. A person’s attire and hearty laughter, and the way he walks, show what he is. (Sir 19:29–30)

When an intelligent person hears a wise saying, he praises it and adds to it; when a fool hears it, he laughs at it and throws it behind his back. (Sir 21:15)

A fool raises his voice when he laughs, but the wise smile quietly. (Sir 21:20)

The talk of fools is offensive, and their laughter is wantonly sinful. (Sir 27:13)

Feasts are made for laughter; wine gladdens life, and money meets every need. (Eccl 10:19)

In these examples, it is not laughter itself that is the problem; it is the laughter of the foolish, of those who cannot see when laughter is called for and when it is not. In the wisdom tradition, the individual must strive to see as God sees in order to laugh as God laughs, and in that mindset, God always has the last laugh.

Laughter in the Biblical Tradition

This brief overview clarifies the various ways in which the Bible presents divine laughter. In the Old Testament, divine laughter is the rebuff of those who would challenge the sovereignty or laws of God. However, it is also the Israelite response to their enemies who mock them, and hence also mock their Lord. In a slight but significant turn, the book of Job presents us with the way the loving Lord God shows a merciful, yet enigmatic and ambiguous character. We see in the Psalms two forms of mockery, specifically that of impious Gentiles toward the Israelites and their God, as well as that of the Lord toward those who would dare mock God. In the end, enemies of Israel, with their false gods, are subject to ridicule; nothing they do can successfully challenge the Lord of the universe.

In the biblical scheme of things, challenges to God and God’s people are really attempts to annihilate them: slaughter the Israelites, and their God dies with them. Thus, the enemies of Israel, with all their military might, will taunt, harass, and mock the chosen people, but the God of Israel will mock them right back for their impotent impertinence. The Lord God and his people cannot be annihilated, as the book of Esther demonstrates. Israel’s enemies then evidence the foolish laugher that the Wisdom literature warns about.

The New Testament develops the laughter of the wise, a move that causes the whole tradition of Christian humor to blossom. Joy becomes the sign of the eschatological kingdom and is treated as such in both the Gospels and the Epistles. ²¹ For Christians, the resurrection changes the whole direction of things; the view of life in this world becomes the culmination of every form of laughter seen in the Bible.

Just as Paul advises his Thessalonian converts not to grieve as those “who have no hope” (1 Thess 4:13), so too Christians are not to laugh as the pagans do, with their jeering, mocking, and sadistic entertainment associated with the games and gladiatorial contests of ancient Rome. Christian merriment finds its source in the enigmatic and ambiguous ways of God, in the human incapacity to understand divine reality. For the Christian, moreover, this incapacity manifests itself not only in the death and resurrection of Christ, but also in the Christian incomprehension about how and why the redemption takes place at all, yet with full knowledge that it does. The dynamic tension that arises between two poles—doubt in the hope of redemption and the realization that the hope and promise hold after all—is where joy arises. The resulting human attempt to live this life under the shade of unexplainable divine love is the pressure point that releases humor and joy together. For those living in this tradition throughout subsequent history, the juncture of divine love and mercy with divine ambiguity, paradox, irony, and enigma is where humor springs up. There are contemporary examples, as well.

In Mel Brooks’ film History of the World, Brooks, as Moses, stands on Mount Sinai with three stone tablets and proclaims in a stentorian voice, “The Lord has given unto you these fifteen commandments. . . .” ²² One of the three tablets drops from his grip and shatters. Brooks kicks the fragments aside and repeats, “The Lord has given unto you these ten commandments. . . .” That scene sums up many of our experiences with divine reality: some things from on high do not make any sense, yet we are obligated to follow them. Do they make any sense to God, or are all divine statutes and ordinances simply a matter of chance? Yet we know God does not operate by chance; hence we laugh at ourselves for trying to comprehend the way of the Almighty, or when in cases of necessity, we cover for him, as Brooks does. The funny bone tingles when a people of faith try to remain obedient to God, who most of the time does not act the way people expect God to act—yet people continue to believe. Doubt is the obverse side of the coin of faith, and in this scene from the film, the shattered third tablet symbolizes our doubts. Believers notice immediately how the scene weaves faith and doubt. Someone from outside the biblical tradition, on the other hand, might not be able to appreciate Mel Brooks’ humor, and someone who is hostile toward the faith tradition altogether might regard the same scene as reason for dark cynicism. The comedian Steve Martin makes this point in a show performed with the “Steep Canyon Rangers.” Martin sings a piece called “Atheists Don’t Have No Songs.” ²³ The accepted understanding among the audience is that while Christianity is known for its hymnody, much of it hope-filled if not joyous in the knowledge of divine love, it is not always clear what atheism, absent the acknowledgment of divine love, celebrates, if, in fact, it can celebrate anything at all.

How Humor Works

In The Morality of Laughter, F. H. Buckley makes the point that laughter always involves a jester and a butt, and that the interplay between the two conveys a truth about life. ²⁴ We may find that such an assertion offends our sensibilities—life is not pleasant for the one who is the butt of jokes. That same interplay between the two, however, keeps the human focus on reality. Moreover, cruelty such as that which occurs between a bully and a weakling is not humorous, whereas an instance when the weakling can make the unstinting bully into an object of derision is, which is why Buckley maintains that humor grounds us in reality. In this case, reality is the moral universe. On the Eighth Day, that is exactly what happens: evil, suffering, and death, the ultimate bullies, are humiliated before the face of God and God’s people.

In a postmodern world, any call for an absolute, even regarding the nature of reality, is difficult; in a pluralistic, polycentric society, there will be a great deal of pushback on any claim for normative categories or behavior. Yet Buckley maintains that we do have and hold universal claims of behavior and take meaning from them. For example, is there a society anywhere in which spitting into the face of another is considered a compliment? Life and human relationships have meaning, and to insist they do not is absurd. ²⁵

Humor rises from paradox, and paradox can only exist where there is a shared, normative meaning. ²⁶ We see this in Sarah’s laugh at the visitors’ announcement of her future conception. She and Abraham were well past childbearing years; the Lord previously made his promise, but there is nothing to show for it. And now in the current state of things, she hears the prediction yet again. The normative understanding is that women in their late nineties do not get pregnant, and everyone seems to know this except the Lord and the three visitors speaking on God’s behalf. No wonder she laughs.

The absurdist notion, on the other hand, champions a nihilistic stance for which the abandonment of all meaning in life is its most necessary component. Most people who have even a modicum of love in their lives cannot identify with absurdism. If nothing has any meaning, neither does absurdist thought. ²⁷

The biblical tradition counters this existential despair by confronting it. The crucified Son of God, who comes to the point of despair on the cross only to rise gloriously three days later, is the absolute rebuke to death and despair. Insofar as humankind participates in that despair, it also has a share in the resurrection. The Christian life, therefore, becomes the constant rebuke of death and despair, and it does so most resolutely with laughter. The humorous response is biblical laughter made perfect. The absurdist is not the realist; the humorist is.

Laughter in the Bible?

The brief overview of laughter in the Bible demonstrates that to a great extent sacred Scripture as a written text is, well, dour and humorless, and where there is laughter, it is most often cruel. ²⁸ Despite the few passages offering comic relief (e.g., Balaam and the donkey, Jonah, selections from Acts), most human or divine laughter is directed at those who would mock the Lord God. Those who might for a short period seemingly succeed in their impertinence with impunity ultimately pay for it by becoming objects of divine ridicule, augmented by some sort of punishment.

The last book of the Bible, Revelation, ends with the word “Amen,” followed by a blessing upon the reader (22:21). As one closes the cover, Christ, the Lamb once slain, reigns supreme over the heavens and earth. Satan is banished from creation and remains as barely a whimper. Thousands upon thousands continue to enter the New Jerusalem (7:9–17; 21:24–27), and the newcomers have every tear wiped from their eyes (7:17). Their salvation stands in contradistinction to the enemies of the Lord God.

These enemies, so formidable in the Psalms and other Old Testament books, have one common purpose: the eradication of the name of the Lord and his people. In reading the biblical narrative and situating that narrative under the lens of Christ’s resurrection, New Testament writers come to view those enemies as one: Satan. And Satan has been forever defeated. The mocking laughter continues, but now the people of God direct it at the Evil One and his weapons, death and sin.

There are many examples of mocking laughter in both sacred and profane realms, and the difficulty in ascertaining where one realm picks up and the other leaves off is proof of the success of the Incarnation. In the sacred sphere, prayer and liturgy first come to mind. The paschal mystery, rehearsed at each Eucharist, continually reiterates the victory of life over death. The liturgical year, with its many feasts, has been as much a celebration outside the sanctuary as within it, with secularized celebrations such as the Twelve Days of Christmas, Carnival, Mardi Gras, and Halloween. Church architecture through the ages has shown a great deal of whimsy and play; gargoyles are noted more for their vulgarity than for their fearfulness. What is celebrated in the sanctuary spills out into the street. This joy of the redemption, a joy that erupts in humor and comedy, still surfaces, despite the near obscurity of its long history. It is a history worth telling.

Christian Humor

The Second Shepherds’ Play, by the Wakefield Master, was usually performed around Christmas in England up to the time of the Reformation. ²⁹ In it, a thieving Mak casts a spell on a group of Judean shepherds and steals one of their sheep. When they awaken and discover that a lamb is missing, they head to Mak’s house. Mak and his wife Gill see them coming, so they disguise the lamb as a baby and set the infant/lamb in a manger. Gill pretends to be in labor with its twin when the shepherds arrive. Not fooled, the shepherds un-swaddle the “child” and discover it is a lamb. They in turn wrap Mak in a sheet and beat him until they tire themselves. The shepherds then return to their fields, where the angelic host tell them to hasten to Bethlehem to see the newborn Savior. Anyone familiar with the 1979 film Monty Python’s The Life of Brian will see the strong parallels between this comedy and The Second Shepherds’ Play; both are based on mistaken identity, are highly irreverent, and at the same time highly humorous. This kind of comic biblical theater continues with Easter Sunday celebrations.

A mélange of resurrection accounts (Matt 28:1–10; Mark 16:1–8; Luke 24:1–12; John 20:1–18) formed the plot for another play, the Visitatio Sepulchri, also acted out along the lines of the Second Shepherds’ Play. Historians consider this play, staged in monastic churches and with its trope Quem quaeritis (“Whom do you seek?”), to be a precursor of modern Western drama. Up until the Reformation, the Visitatio Sepulchri was performed on Easter morning. In it, an angel asks the three Marys, “Whom do you seek?”, and they along with others and with certain license, act out the rest of the Easter Gospel account. ³⁰

In one version of the play, the three Marys hurry to the shop to buy the spices and ointments. They haggle with the mean shopkeeper, whose servant and wife take advantage of his distraction to engage in a burlesque form of adultery. The three women depart, come to the rolled-back stone, and see the angels in place. Two of the women quickly run to tell Peter and the others. Peter himself hurries to the tomb, and depending on the version of the play, he is depicted either as limping with a bad back, sleeping along the way, or fortifying himself with generous gulps from a wine flask. Mary Magdalene, on the other hand, stays and pokes around the garden searching for Jesus. Meanwhile, the gardener, who is busy hoeing, sees her and first yells at her for stepping on his vegetables, and then accuses her of seeking an assignation with someone. Mary Magdalene, in turn, explains the gravity of the situation, and the gardener reveals himself as the risen Christ; along with the angels, they then announce the resurrection to the audience. ³¹

OPEN IN VIEWER

Frans Hals (1581–1666). “The Clown with the Lute.” Oil on wood. Musée du Louvre. Photo Credit: Erich Lessing/Art Resource, NY.

In other versions, before the conclusion of the garden scene, there is a comic episode in which the soldiers guarding the tomb start to blame each other for letting Christ go missing as they dispute about their wages for a job badly done. Meanwhile, Christ descends into hell to rescue the souls of the good, whom Satan has held captive. Christ overcomes the evil forces, but not before the demons and Satan, using every comic antic, try in vain to stop him. ³²

The mirth and laughter exhibited in these feasts and plays, inspired by and tied to the Gospel accounts, are patent. Because the line between sacred and profane no longer exists, the sublime and the ridiculous mix; the incarnation and the resurrection have obliterated it. The Second Shepherds’ Play and the comic elements in other mystery plays show such a worldview. While we may have lost pieces of this cultural legacy, the larger and more important segments remain. We do need, however, to recognize and highlight them.

A Contemporary Witness

The Bible, taken in its totality from Genesis to Revelation, is the Word of God, and the Word was made flesh. Christ, the sacrament of God, has graced all creation, and he can penetrate even its most evil and sinful places and situations. What Christ accomplished, humankind has a share in, and because humankind has a share in his life, the evil and sinful effects of trauma have no permanent hold.

It would be impossible to catalogue every artwork, film, book, play, or ballet pointing to Christian joy and laughter, but I ask the reader to consider the great span of Christian art, iconography, literature, music, and architecture across the centuries. In doing so readers should recall a great deal of humor and whimsy, not only in the highly decorated manuscripts, but also in the friezes, gargoyles, and statuary of medieval cathedrals, right down to the feasts, holy days, and church suppers of this day.

Laughter is a part of joy, and although joy does not deny evil, it certainly is the antidote to evil. As a response to evil, it is most biblical in character. An overview of the biblical narrative shows how laughter often has a mocking tone. In the Old Testament, either the enemies of Israel mock the Lord God and God’s people, or the Lord God and God’s people mock their enemies.

While the New Testament does not depict much in terms of laughter, joy stands out as one of its principal characteristics. Laughter as mockery surfaces as in the raising of Jairus’ daughter (Mark 5:39–40) and in doubts about Jesus’ paternity (John 8:39–41), and most significantly at the passion and crucifixion (Matt 27:27–31, 39–44; Mark 15:16–20, 29–32; Luke 22:63–65; 23:11, 36–39; and John 19:2–3), but at the resurrection the joy of the redemption has the last laugh. Saint Paul’s sarcastic taunt, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Cor 15:55), mocks the greatest enemies of the Lord of life: sin and death.

There is a saying that the Devil hates laughter. Of course he does. Everything from a joyous chuckle to a side-splitting belly laugh mocks the Prince of Darkness and his minions. He did his best on Good Friday and lost big time on Easter Sunday; after that, he became the butt of all jokes.

When the Melkite Patriarch lobbed the bay leaf bombs at any long face during that Easter Sunday liturgy, he was inaugurating the Eighth Day, the beginning of the New Creation, and he was doing so by forwarding one of its greatest attributes, what in the West is called Risus Paschalis, or Easter Laughter. The Easter play of the Visitatio Sepulchri is a prime example of this laughter. We do not laugh at trauma; there is absolutely nothing funny about it. Rather, we allow the healing balm of Christ’s grace—a grace he gained for us by his passion, death, and resurrection—to soak into our hearts and souls so that the resulting joy of his love salves our deepest wounds. And when it does, we smile.

The Eighth Day

The book of Genesis opens with the Word creating the heavens and earth and all that is in them, and that same Word runs through every book in the Bible to the closing verse of Revelation. If the written biblical text has very little laughter in it, and we have seen that this is the case, it really does not diminish, much less negate, the place of laughter in the Lord’s divine revelation to humankind.

The patristic writers saw the Word as creative and generative in its fullest sense. The descent of the Holy Spirit, effected by Christ’s passion, death, resurrection, and ascension, has renewed the face of the earth, and indeed continues to do so; we now live in the eschatological era, the age in which the kingdom of God breaks forth.

Everything in sacred Scripture tells us that joy and laughter are constitutive parts of the kingdom that the Word of God—the Word made flesh—inhabits. In this kingdom, despite the suffering and destruction we encounter and witness, evil, sin, and death do not and cannot have the last say; with Christ, they have no future, and with no future, their influence in this current life is vitiated. We live in God’s Word, and because we do, throughout this Eighth Day we laugh at the vain attempts that the powers of darkness engage to intimidate us. Indeed, this is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.