Danbury United Methodist Church

April 11, 2010

Holy Humor Sunday

10:30 a.m.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!

~Philippians 4.4

GREETING AND ANNOUNCEMENTS

Welcome to our first (annual?) Holy Humor Sunday! A custom begun by early Greek Christians, the observance was kept for centuries with days of joy and laughter, parties and picnics, in the week after Easter. The idea was to keep the excitement of the Resurrection alive, with churchgoers and pastors playing practical jokes on one another, singing and dancing. Early church theologians, including Augustine and Gregory of Nyssa, taught that God played a practical joke on the devil by raising Jesus from the dead. They called it "Risus paschalis" – the Easter laugh.

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

Gladys.

Gladys who?

Glad it's Sunday, aren't you?

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

Rita.

Rita who?

Read a Bible if you want to hear the good news.               

SCRIPTURE : John 20:19-23

¹⁹ When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” ²⁰ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. ²¹ Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” ²² When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. ²³ If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

SERMON The Easter Laugh Pastor Karen

Today’s scripture reading happens on Easter evening when, according to John, the disciples have not seen the risen Jesus. Early that morning Mary goes to the tomb, finds it empty, and tells Peter and John about it. They run to the tomb, also find it empty, and go back into hiding. Then Mary meets Jesus in the garden, and tells the disciples. But it does not seem to have any effect on them—they remain afraid for their lives, locked up in a darkened room.

Then suddenly Jesus appears. He doesn’t knock; he doesn’t climb in through the window; he just appears. And what does he say? “Peace be with you.” He shows them the wounds in his hands from the nails, and his side, from the spear. And then the disciples rejoice—they are convinced that it is Jesus.

Jesus then repeats, “Peace be with you.”

What does that mean? What does it mean to have peace? Here is my working definition: to have peace is to let things be what they are, as they are, without fear or anxiety. Things we like; things we don’t like; things that seem right; even things that seem wrong—we recognize them, without denial or fear.

Now, this does not mean that we never work to change anything. Some things are wrong, and we work to change them. Some things are evil, and we fight evil—but we work and fight from a place of strength, knowing that God has already won the war, though the skirmishes go on.

Here’s a story about peace—or the lack thereof:

A middle aged woman has a heart attack and is taken to the hospital. While on the operating table she has a near-death experience. During that experience she sees God and asks if this is it. God says no and explains that she has another 30-40 years to live.

Upon her recovery she decides to just stay in the hospital and have a face lift, liposuction, breast augmentation, and a tummy tuck. She gets her bunions fixed. She even has someone come in and change her hair color. She figures that since she's got another 30 or 40 years she might as well make the most of it.
She walks out the hospital after the last operation and is killed by an ambulance speeding up to the hospital.
She arrives in front of God again and asks, "What’s up with this? I thought you said I had another 30-40 years!"
God replies, "Sorry, I didn't recognize you."

That’s someone who really wasn’t ready to let things be; who had not taken any time to think about what is important to fix, and what is important to let go. This is an essential component of finding peace: being able to discern what needs to be fixed or righted or fought, and what needs to be left alone.

But do we really want peace? It seems to me that maybe sometimes we don’t.

A man had been shipwrecked on a remote island in the Pacific, and was alone for 20 years. When a ship finally arrived, his rescuers were impressed with the three buildings he had built and asked him about them.

"Well," the man replied, "this is my house, and that building over there is my church. It's a wonderful church and I hate to leave it."

"And what is the third building yonder?" a rescuer asked.

"Oh, that is the church I used to go to," the man replied.

Do we really want peace? What gets in the way? I’ve been thinking about this all week, and for me, there seem to be two main things:

1. Like the man in the story, the craving for a little excitement.
2. The desire to be right. That one is probably the worst for me. It’s not enough for me to know I’m right—I need everyone else to know, especially the person who is wrong.

Sound familiar?

Jesus grants his disciples peace. It’s so important that he says it twice: “Peace be with you.” Jesus makes that offer to us, as well. But do you want it? Is it worth giving up your drama and your self-righteousness for?

On this Easter evening, when Jesus appears to the disciples, nothing has changed yet. The resurrection has happened, and the disciples have heard about it—but nothing has changed. They are still afraid, still holed up behind locked doors.

Nothing will change for them until they accept Christ’s peace. That is true for us, as well. Is anything interfering with your peace? Is anything getting in the way of your joy?

Before we come to the communion table, to be together with each other and Jesus, let’s address those things. Let’s identify them, and let Jesus deal with them. Let him breathe peace upon you. In this time of silence, bring to Jesus anything that is interfering with your ability to accept his peace.