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Written on June 6, 2008
[For the June 15, 2008 lectionary: Matthew 9:35-10:8]
"LAUGHTER, SERIOUSLY" by Larry Patten
- CAST OUT DEMONS:
- Yes: ___ No: ___ Maybe: ___
- Explain: ____________________
- CLEANSE THE LEPERS:
- Yes: ___ No: ___ Maybe: ___
- Explain: ____________________
- RAISE THE DEAD:
- Yes: ___ No: ___ Maybe: ___
- Explain: ____________________
- CURE THE SICK:
- Yes: ___ No: ___ Maybe: ___
- Explain: ____________________
- PROCLAIM GOOD NEWS:
- Yes: ___ No: ___ Maybe: ___
- Explain: ____________________
In Matthew’s gospel, as with Luke and Mark, there was a first time when Jesus sent the disciples to do God’s work. Even Judas Iscariot—who, the gospel writer said (not hiding the tragedy to follow) was the “one who betrayed” Jesus—was sent forth. Sent to do what? Cast out demons, cleanse lepers, raise the dead, and so forth.
As a kid in Sunday school, back when Eisenhower was president and we ducked under our desks to prepare for a Soviet nuclear attack, I thought what the disciples were asked to do was pretty cool. And demanding. When the going gets tough, the tough get going! I pictured those disciples, just after Jesus gave some final words of encouragement, spreading out across the countryside.
Watch out demons! Gather the lepers!
Anyone die recently? “No worries,” James the son of Zebedee and a newly minted disciple of Jesus might say, “I’m here to bring the dead back to life.”
What a life! When those disciples returned to Jesus, wouldn’t their job performance reviews be stunning? With my youthful Sunday school eyes, I could imagine, based on the list I created at the top, that everything was marked with a “Yes!”
However, I’m not in Sunday school anymore.
Not long ago, I attended a discussion for persons involved in Fresno’s “literary community.” I have no idea why I was invited, but I like to write (though I don’t think I’m literally literary) and I was curious. Not surprisingly, at the start of the gathering, we were asked to share our names, what we write, and whom or what we represented.
Someone was from Arte Americas. Another was involved with the Hmong Writers of Fresno. A few wrote poetry. Several were professors from the local university and directed a Masters of Fine Arts graduate program.
Everyone seemed so serious.
It was my turn. I was a bad boy. I shared my name, mentioned I was clergy, briefly noted what I wrote, and then said, “I represent God.”
People laughed.
It’s fun to be funny. For as long as I can remember—even predating those ancient Sunday school times—I’ve known the power of creating laughter. The amusing rejoinder. Poking fun at myself. Hey, folks, I was voted “class clown” at high school! I have a picture in my dusty olde yearbook to prove it.
People laughed. Did I represent God?
How’s my job performance? Cleanse any lepers? Cure any sick?
What does it mean to go forth and represent God? My Sunday school innocence and imagination is gone. Representing God isn’t about battling vampires or ghouls, though I suppose Hollywood would still have us believe that.
As much as I wanted to add a dollop of levity to the introductions, it was also important to share I was a Christian pastor. Neither my faith nor my title made me better than anyone else. And yet they remind me, and those I share with, Whom I try to represent.
Is laughter representing God? I hope so. My car’s vanity license plate is CRZY REV. When I’m asked why, I'll reply it helps me remember to not take myself so seriously. G.K. Chesterson wrote, “Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.”
Gospel-wise, as those flawed and foolish (and yes, even faithful) disciples are sent forth, the words that most deeply challenge me are: “the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
I could happily debate the two thousand-year ago historic, cultural, and religious context of demonology or ignorance about leprosy. But not the “kingdom of heaven has come near.” Flawed and foolish, I do try to represent God. In my way of believing, the kingdom of heaven is not a place, but a moment. A relationship. A common hope. Delighting in the other. Risking honesty. All of those, and more, a kingdom near us and within us, as welcome and necessary as a breath of fresh air.
And sometimes, as we take ourselves lightly, heaven’s realm can be the sound of shared laughter.
in Peace,
Larry
