Loading...Time to warm up your funny bone:
Q: What did the snowman and his wife put over their baby’s crib?
A: A snowmobile!
Q: What do snowmen eat for lunch?
A: Icebergers
And for Valentine’s Day coming up:
Q. Why do skunks love Valentine’s Day?
A. Because they’re scent-imental creatures!
Q. Where do all the hamburgers take their girlfriend on Valentine’s Day?
A. To a meatball.
Knock Knock.
Who’s there?
Olive.
Olive who?
Olive you!
It’s rare, but every once in awhile we get a glimpse into Jesus’ sense of humor. Humor is a subjective experience and not everyone gets every joke. I am stuck at a 5th grade level of humor. If there’s a joke on a popsicle stick, it’s going to make me laugh.
When Jesus is talking about Scribes and Pharisees, it’s no laughing matter. The job of the Scribes and Pharisees is to take scripture seriously. Their mission to achieve complete righteousness. To meet their aim they must obey every single law. For them, the only sacrifice that counts is the sacrifice made by an approved religious authority with approved religious animals from approved religious sources.
The Faith of a Scribe or Pharisee is a highly regulated experience and salvation depends upon abiding by all regulations; disobedience may be atoned for but rare is any language of forgiveness. I don’t think there’s much giggling going on in their staff meetings. But there is a lot of scrupulosity and focus and righteousness.
I don’t know how much righteousness it takes to climb a mountain. Whenever I climb a mountain it takes some sweat and dust and an abandonment of responsibilities at home. These are the kinds of people who followed Jesus up the mountain in Matthew’s story. They have just gotten an earful of the Beatitudes. And my hunch is that they are sweaty and dusty and had abandoned chores to hear Jesus. So when Jesus tells the crowds unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven, I giggle. I don’t know if I am supposed to. I don’t know if Jesus meant to be funny. I just read it as a teaser, poking harmless fun at the people not on the mountain, the people whose laundry is clean and folded and household responsibilities are tidy.
Living in a tidy household feels heavenly to me. But a tidy household is not saving my soul. If I am going to make myself comfortable in the kingdom of heaven I need to take to heart the law and the prophets Jesus comes to fulfill, not evaluate or equivocate or adjudicate.
When I add up the stories and make a pie chart, Jesus spent way more time sweaty and dusty than scrupulous and focused. The punchline of Holy Scripture is that only God is righteous and God is free to reckon righteousness to whomever God desires to reckon righteousness to.
Grace is the invitation of Christ’s gospel. Grace is as unsettling as it is comforting. What do you do with the knowledge of the sacrificial love of God in Christ; what do you do when you cannot make yourself worthy of Christ’s death by means of righteousness or morality or fidelity?
Let me make this easy for you, you will never be worthy of Christ’s sacrifice. That is why his death on the cross is a sacrifice.
I admit I struggle with a worthiness complex. There are days when I honestly get caught up in trying to do everything “right.” If you have ever felt that way you know how exhausting “right” feels. If only there was a way to earn God’s love, life would feel so much more controllable. If I only had to follow the instructions in Isaiah and bring a homeless person into my house to qualify for heavenly housing, that would be great.
I have failed to find a homeless person who wants to live indoors. I give my bread to the hungry as best I can using the agencies with whom St James cooperates, but my direct offerings of here-is-my-personal-sandwich have always been declined by the hungry. The homeless and the hungry are not following my regulations — too busy following the Beatitudes. Those Beatitudes interrupt the tidying I fret to accomplish and I am so grateful for their grace.
It’s only when I am interrupted by something beautiful or untidy, or silly like a 5th grade joke, that I can appreciate what Jesus is doing on the cross at Calvary. Jesus dies on the cross to atone for AND to forgive the sins of the entire world -- without price or paybacks. The cross is where the only qualifier for righteousness is Love. Love isn’t controllable, love is ridiculous. Savor that grace, let that grace season you like salt and shine from you like a city on a hill.
The good news is there is nothing I can do to get into the kingdom of heaven. That’s the joke! Jesus is telling people who don’t possess a slice of the righteousness the law requires that they could never enter the kingdom of heaven as it is understood by scrupulosity and focus. Ha! The kingdom of heaven is designed for untidy people, salty people covered in sweat and dust, and for showy people shining on a hill - shining in a way that makes others appreciate God’s reckless abandon when it comes to salvation.
I close with a grown up joke. It’s more complicated than a popsicle stick, but I will do my best.
A man dies and stands before the pearly gates of heaven where St Peter waits with key in hand and decides to play a little game on the man. St Peter says, “Welcome to heaven, we operate on the points system here. You need 100 points to gain access.”
The man scratches his head because he had read the Bible and never learned that. “OK, he replied nervously, well, I was a pastor for 45 years and faithfully preached the gospel of the unconditional love of God in Jesus Christ.”
“Excellent said St Peter, that is worth 1 point!”
One point!? thought the pastor and he started to sweat. “Well, I was faithfully married to my wife for 52 years and took care of her in her illness.”
“Splendid,” said St Peter, “another point! That makes a total of 2 points. You only need 98 more.”
The man was stumped because he really thought those were his two biggest point earners. Why hadn’t he started an orphanage? Rescuing a puppy and making his mortgage payments on time probably wasn’t going to be that big a deal here. Exasperated he cried, “At this rate I can only get into heaven by God’s grace!”
“Welcome in,” said St Peter with a giggle, as he pushed open the unlocked gate.
Amen.
