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Reading:  

     by Anonymous

Most people assume WWJD stands for “What would Jesus do?” But the initials really stand for “What would Jesus drive?”

            One theory is that Jesus would tool around in an old Plymouth because “the Bible says God drove Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden in a Fury.” But in Psalm 83, the Almighty clearly owns a Pontiac and a Geo. The passage urges the Lord to “pursue your enemies with your Tempest and terrify them with your Storm.”

            Perhaps God favors Dodge pickup trucks, because Moses’ followers are warned not to go up a mountain “until the Ram’s horn sounds a long blast.”

            Some scholars insist that Jesus drove a Honda, but didn’t like to talk about it. As proof they cite a verse in St. John’s gospel where Christ tells the crowd, “For I did not speak of my own Accord . . .” Meanwhile, Moses rode an old British motorcycle, as evidenced by a Bible passage declaring that “the roar of Moses’ Triumph is heard in the hills.”

            Joshua drove a Triumph sports car with a hole in its muffler: “Joshua’s Triumph was heard throughout the land.”

            And following the Master’s lead, the Apostles carpooled in a Honda. “The Apostles were in one Accord.” How all twelve Apostles fit into one Accord is one of the lesser known miracles.

Sermon:

           I’ve been told I have a great sense of humor. I’ve also been told that my sense of humor is warped, strange, bizarre, and nuts. I’ve been told that some of the things I think are funny, others do not. But never, anywhere along the line, has anyone suggested I don’t have a sense of humor. They may not appreciate mine, but they at least know I have one.

            And that’s good. Because I rely on my sense of humor for almost everything. To break unbearable silences. To keep myself awake on long journeys. To defuse an otherwise explosive situation. To relax couples about to be joined in matrimony, and thereby to keep them from fainting during the service. To teach and educate, to learn, to put life in its perspective, to cope with the uncope-able. When I can’t find something to laugh about in a situation, I know that I am in trouble. Serious trouble.

            For example, right after September 11th, 2001, I even found a way to joke about those horrible events. There were some people arrested in the Detroit area for creating false ID’s, with some question as to whether they had done so for the terrorists. I’d been unable or unwilling to visit dear friends in Windsor—the line up at the border was unbearable, and so Jasper, my golden retriever, was been unable to visit his best friend. I was frustrated, and then I heard you needed two pieces of ID to clear the border. The first thing that came to my mind was: Do they have to match? Does the picture have to be yours?

            I needed to do this, make this joke, because for me, humor and laughter are an indispensable part of life, and an indispensable indication of health. Both mental and physical. And in this, I’m not alone.

            You all remember, I’m sure, the story of Norman Cousins. Cousins was in hospital, facing a terminal illness, but unwilling to accept the doctors’ pronouncement of his impending doom. He decided to counteract his depression about the doc’s news by watching funny movies. The Three Stooges. The Marx Brothers. These, and others, occupied his time, made him laugh, and lo and behold, Cousins began to get better. Eventually, he survived his illness, and began writing and teaching about his experience.

            Placebo effect it may have been, but I have often thought that if there is a god, then that god must have a tremendous sense of humor. Otherwise, why the ostrich? Why the incredible—and practically useless—flamboyance of the universe? Why a funny bone, which isn’t funny at all? If there is a god, and if that god has a sense of humor like I suspect god would, then one of the best effects of that humor would be to make the world a better place. George Burns who played God in the movie “Oh, God,” said that sure he’d made mistakes—he agreed with the ostrich, and he said the pit in the avocado was too big. Placebo or not, laughter raises our immune potential. Stress flows away quickly when we engage ourselves in a great big belly laugh.

            But rather than just talking about humor today, I want to share some with you. Relax, there will be no political jokes. There will be no bawdy jokes. It’s not that I don’t have them; it’s just that everything should be in its own place, and the pulpit is not the place for either of those. Talk to me later for those.

            But the pulpit is surely a place for religious humor. So let me begin.

A pastor was giving the children's message during church. For this part of the service, he would gather all the children around him and give a brief lesson before dismissing them for children's church.

On this particular Sunday, he was using squirrels for an object lesson on industry and preparation. He started out by saying, “I'm going to describe something, and I want you to raise your hand when you know what it is.” The children nodded eagerly.

            “This thing lives in trees (pause) and eats nuts (pause)...” No hands went up. “And it is brownish-red (pause) and has a long bushy tail (pause)...” The children were looking at each other, but still no hands raised. “And it jumps from branch to branch (pause) and chatters and flips its tail when it's excited (pause)...”

Finally one little boy tentatively raised his hand. The pastor breathed a sigh of relief and called on him. “Well...,” said the boy, “I know the answer must be Jesus...but is sure sounds like a squirrel to me!”

 

            Or there is this one that circulated a few years ago. It is a bogus letter sent by a synagogue:

 

During the last high holidays, many individuals expressed concern over the seating arrangements in the synagogue. In order for us to place you in a seat which will best suit you, we ask you to complete the following questionnaire and return it to the synagogue office as soon as possible.

 

1. I would prefer to sit in the

  ___ Talking section

  ___ No talking section

 

2. If talking, which subcategory do you prefer?

 

         ___ Stock market            ___ My neighbors

         ___ Sports                        ___ My relatives

         ___ Medicine                     ___ The rabbi

         ___ General gossip            ___ The cantor

         ___ Specific gossip            ___ Monica Lewinski

         ___ Fashion news            ___ Bill Clinton

         ___ Sex                                    specify _____________

 

  3. Which of the following would you like to be near for free professional advice:

           ___ Lawyer                        ___ Accountant

           ___ Doctor                        ___ Stockbroker

           ___ Chiropractor                ___ Real estate agent

           ___ Sexologist                      ___ Dentist

 

4. I want a seat located

           ___ near my in-laws                        ___ near the pulpit

           ___ far from my in-laws                ___ near the Kiddush table

           ___ far from my ex-in-laws            ___ near the exit

 

5. I wish to be seated in a seat where:

  ___ No one on the bimah can see me talking during services

  ___ I can sleep during services

  ___ I can sleep during the rabbi's sermon [additional charge]

 

6. Please do not place me anywhere near the following people:

 

It is not fair to use only other traditions, without using our own. So let me add a UU joke.

This fellow went out and bought a Maserati, a sleek, wonderful sports car that could go like nobody’s business. He decided though, that he should get the car blessed before he drove it. Those cars—they go so fast, he felt he needed all the help he could get.

So he went to the local Catholic Church. He went in, and spoke with the priest: “Father,” he said, “can you do a blessing for my Maserati?” The priest said, “I know what a blessing is, but I have one question: what, my dear son, is a Maserati?” The man explained it was a sports car, and the priest shook his head.

So the man went to the synagogue. He found the rabbi, and asked, “Rabbi, can you do a blessing for my Maserati?” The rabbi, he said, “I know what is a blessing, but I have a question: what, young lad, is a Maserati?” The man explained, again, that it was a sports car, and the rabbi just shook his head.

The man was getting discouraged, but as he was driving down the street, he found a Unitarian Universalist church. He decided to give it just one more try. He went in, and found the minister. “Excuse me,” he said, “I’m looking for someone who can do a blessing for my Maserati.” The UU minister said, “You have a Maserati? Really? I’ve always wanted a Maserati? Can I see it? Can I drive it?” The man showed the minister the car, and let her drive it. About an hour later, after a tour through the entire area, the minister stopped the car in the front of the church, got out and thanked the man. As he got out, the man said, “How about the blessing?” “Oh, sure,” said the minister. “I’d be delighted. I just have one question: what the heck is a blessing?”

 

            Humor, as I said, is a very valuable tool. My friends are chosen, to a good degree, by their senses of humor. If I cannot laugh heartily with someone, I know that they will not be my saving grace.

            Because any time things are bearing down on me, I need to laugh. I need to find the absurd, the ironic in any situation. When the now dearly-departed Jasper the Wonder Dog learned how to roll in dirt right after his bath, and right after I put all the towels in the washing machine, I had a choice. I could either cry, or I could laugh at my bi-coloured dog; golden on the top, and black on the bottom. So I laughed. What else would serve me better? Or the time Jasper got sprayed by the skunk at 5:30 in the morning when I had to be at the police station in forty minutes for a ride along with my officers. Laughter kept me from doing something I would later regret. Jasper provided me with many, many laughs.

Because, you know, dogs are absolutely necessary. They are man’s best friends, right? Or, as Groucho Marx put it: “Outside of a dog, a book is probably man’s best friend; inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read anyway.”

            Humor releases us from the bondage of time. When I talk with people who recently lost someone, I always try to get them to tell me about what made them angry with the person, and then what made them laugh. We need to remember the good and the bad—to know the totality of a person—but remembering the laughter reminds us we don’t lose the best of a person when they die. With humor, we hold on to the person, and hold on to our love, once they are gone.

            It is also said that angels fly because they take themselves lightly. That is good for us, too. To be able to laugh at the self, know when what we’re doing is preposterous. I remember, as a teen, riding the train in Canada I was always amazed that when we came to a crossroads, the crossing arm was always down—it so rarely happens when I’m driving across train tracks. It took me literally years to figure it out—I was on the train that the arms went down for! Just like it took me years to figure out the riddle “What’s black and white and read all over?” I kept spelling “read” r-e-d. Or a couple of years ago when I was learning how to play the hand chimes for a church service, during the final run through, every note but one that I played was wrong. I almost couldn’t stand up for laughing at myself. Laughing at our silliness reminds us that we are human. The option, instead, is to beat ourselves up, chastise ourselves. But laughter, laughter helps us learn.

            We can all learn from humor. Like take this: I sometimes to get confused about the difference between closely related terms. But, put it in a joke, and I don’t forget. “What’s the difference between an agnostic and an atheist? I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Figure it out, it’s easy to remember. My mom told me that she learned the order of the streets in downtown Seattle through the same sort of thing. Seattle, for those of you who don’t know, is full of hills, and it’s important to know where you’re going so you don’t go up and down too many times. The streets run: Jefferson, James, Cherry, Columbia, Marion, Madison, Spring, Seneca, University, Union, Pike and Pine. Two each of J-C-M-S-U-P, or, as my mom knew it “Jesus Christ Made Seattle Under Pressure.” Humor is an educational tool.

Yet sometimes, the education we get from humor is not all that good. Slapstick humor teaches us that physical abuse is okay, as long as we laugh. Even as a kid, I didn’t like the Three Stooges and their eye-poking gags, or Road Runner cartoons. Knocking each other in the head, tripping others, falling on banana peels—this is humor I distrust.

As well, jokes do communicate expectations about people and life. Ethnic jokes, “fag” jokes, blonde jokes, and the like—these serve an underhanded purpose of subtly reinforcing stereotypes. When we hear these jokes as adults, we can usually separate out the humor from the degrading stereotypes. But not always. Otherwise kind and sensitive people still tell me black jokes, blonde jokes, other so-called jokes. These types of jokes are a favorite joke form of young people, and they can inadvertently pass along views we wouldn’t think of voicing any other way. By laughing at jokes that denigrate others, we are, in effect, condoning the stereotypes and the disrespect for whatever group it is. This is so-called humor I can’t let pass. I tell people I don’t think that these jokes are funny or appropriate.

            But at the same time, there is nothing quite as funny as jokes that point to the foibles of a community of your own. It is the kernel of truth embedded in these jokes that make it funny. Like these old ones:

 

-       Unitarian Universalists pray to one god, at most;

-       When a Unitarian Universalist prays, they address it “To Whom It May Concern”

-       The only sacrament we UUs celebrate is coffee hour

-       The only time you’ll heard the name “Jesus Christ” in a UU church is when the janitor falls down the stairs.

 

There is enough truth in these that we laugh, and yet, at some point, there may also be enough truth that we are bruised when others, outside our circle, use the jokes against us. Humor has this insidious role. We must be careful, to know what messages we are communicating—to make sure we’re really saying what we want to say.

            Did you hear, by the way, of the Christmas pageant they held in the Unitarian Universalist congregation just down the street? It was a new venture, because in this congregation had never really told the story of the birth of Jesus during their winter holiday festivities. It was new to most of the children. Well, this little boy playing Joseph had a hard time keeping track of the story. So with the help of his parents, he managed to write the key phrases and words on the inside band of his underpants. He began by looking down on one side, and tracing the story around. About the census that was taken so he had to go to Bethlehem, about the problems with the inn, about finding the stable. He was doing really well, until he got to the end. Then, he had to remember the name of the child that was born. The boy took one more quick look inside the band of his underpants, and with a great big smile, he said: “And they named him Fruit of the Loom.”

            What is it that the KKK burns on the lawns of Unitarian Universalists? A question mark.

            What happens when you cross a Jehovah’s Witness with a Unitarian Universalist? You get someone who knocks on your door for no particular reason.

            These are funny when we feel good about ourselves, but when we doubt who we are, or whether we have anything worthy to give or share, they can pierce us through. When these jokes hurt, we have work to do articulating our faith and practices.

            Laughter keeps us going, keeps us humble. But laughter does not mean that we take life lightly. Instead, for me, the more serious something is, the more likely I’ll find some humor in it. For over three years I visited a young man in his cell as he awaited trial on his murder of his sister, and our best visits were the ones when we laughed a lot. It raises the spirit, his spirit, it drew us together, it kept Michael sane, and it says that life can happen in the most unlikely places, that love and radiance can transcend the horrors of a 6 by 12-foot cell. The harder the times, the more I need laughter. I remember the halls often rang with laughter as I visited men with AIDS in the hospital, when talking with people facing layoffs. The harder the time—the more crucial the jokes.

            But tell me, did you hear about the camping trip that Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson took together? Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson went on a camping trip. As they lay down for the night, Holmes said: “Watson, look up into the sky and tell me what you see.”

Watson said, “I see millions and millions of stars.”

Holmes asked, “And what does that tell you?”

Watson replied: “Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Theologically, it tells me that God is great and that we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, it tells me that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow.  What does it tell you?”

Holmes replied, “It tells me somebody stole our tent.”

 

            Let me finish by sharing this one last religious joke with you.

 

Jesus and Satan were having an argument as to who is the better computer programmer. It went on for a few hours, until they agree to hold a contest with God as the judge.

They sit down in front of their computers and begin. They type furiously for several hours; lines of code streaming up the screen. They seem to be neck and neck, it’s really hard to tell who is going to win—and the stakes are high: who will control the earth.

Seconds before the end of the competition, a bolt of lightning strikes, taking out the electricity. Moments later, God is able to get the power back on, and God announces that the time is up.

Satan turns his machine back on, and as God asks what Satan has come up with, he cries, “I have nothing! I lost it all when the power went out!”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said God. “Let’s see if Jesus did any better.”

Jesus enters a command, and the screen comes to life in vivid display, with

the voices of an angelic choir pour forth from the speakers.

Satan is astonished. He stutters, “But how?! I lost everything, yet Jesus’ program is intact! How did he do it?”

“It’s simple,” says God. “Jesus saves.”

 

Colleague and friend Mark Morrison-Reed writes: “So let me die laughing, savoring one of life’s crazy moments. Let me die holding the hand of one I love, and recalling that I tried to love and was loved in return. Let me die remembering that life has been good, and that I did what I could. But today, just remind me that I am dying so that I can live, savor, and love with all my heart.”