A Ketchup Bottle and Saint Paul: The Moral Value of Humor
A Ketchup Bottle and Saint Paul – The Moral Value of Humor
By Adam C. English, Doctoral Candidate
Baylor University
Recently I shared lunch with three Christian friends at a local grease pit. Somehow during the course of consuming our burgers and fries, we found ourselves knee-deep in a debate about homosexuality. We had no idea how we had gotten into it or how we could get out of it, but it was becoming less and less conducive for happy burger digestion. Fortunately, I was finished with my meal and had focused my attention on listening to Steve. I was also unconsciously toying with the plastic ketchup bottle. Nota bene: boys are born with an excessive amount of nervous energy. They like to jiggle their legs, tap their fingers, fidget, and fiddle with things.
As Steve was passionately making the point that the sexual organs of men and women were designed to fit together in a way that cannot be reproduced in same-sex partnerships, I accidentally squeezed the bottle such that a tiny bubble of ketchup burst out and sprinkled us all. For a split second we just sat there looking at each other, the three of them in a state of disbelief and I in a state of mortification. Then we all broke into a fit of laughter. Steve`s point was lost, the spell of the debate was broken, and all was washed away (except the ketchup) in our laughter.
A similar moment of unexpected humor occurred on a somber Wednesday evening Bible study meeting in the bleak midwinter a year or two ago. We were discussing that stubborn passage out of 1 Timothy 2, where Paul is exhorting Timothy not to allow women to teach or to have authority over men. After Pastor Julie had read the passage, there followed a thick silence. As she looked from face to face, you could tell that everyone was working desperately to generate a cultural, theological, or historical justification for these hard words as well as an acceptable application of the passage in today`s world. Finally, one of the more "mature" females in that intimate circle of folding chairs straightened up and said, "Well, I never did like St. Paul very much."
It is often said that we take ourselves too seriously. Not even the Bible takes us as seriously as we take ourselves. Why else does Acts 20 record an incident in which a man named Eutychus dozes off during one of Paul`s exceptionally long and boring sermons and falls out of a third story window to his death? That`s either morbid or its funny! Of course, in the end Eutychus got his life back. He wasn`t totally dead . . . only mostly dead. As Billy Crystal says in The Princess Bride, "I`ve seen worse."
The lesson of laughter is not a new one. All the great Christian thinkers learned it long before we came on the scene with our scowls and our textbook cases. Once, while reflecting on some vexing problem with Schleiermacher`s theology, Karl Barth wrote, "The only certain consolation which remains for me is to rejoice that in the kingdom of heaven I will be able to discuss all these questions with Schleiermacher extensively . . . [and] we will both laugh very heartily at ourselves."
Humor is not only valuable in moral and theological debates; it also comes in handy when trying to spice up a dull church service. A few years ago I served as a youth minister in a small church outside of Fort Worth. One of my responsibilities was to give the announcements every Sunday morning during the first five minutes of worship. Announcements were always a drag, especially in this small country church. Nobody paid a lick of attention to them. So to generate some interest, I began telling a joke each week along with announcements. It was a hit. Soon people were coming up to me with their favorite joke or telling me how much my jokes lifted their spirits.
But, when I would try to vary my routine by not telling a knee-slapper with the announcements, I would encounter stiff resistance. The old men would grab me by the arm and say, "Where was your joke today?" like they were third-grade bullies shaking down the school runt for lunch-money. I am still unsure if they accosted me because they liked my jokes that much or if they just liked routine that much.
My point is that people resonate not only with what touches their souls, but also with what tickles their funny bone. I have a hunch that humor plays a more important role in the life of the church and in moral debates than we give it credit for. If nothing else, it can at least keep us from strangling each other!
Christian ethics is not just about coming to logical conclusions, winning arguments, and passing legislation. It is fundamentally about how we live with one another, how we relate to one another, and how we treat people. It must somehow account for and involve the whole person, from the mind to the body to the tears-and to the giggles.
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