Fr Mark Schultz

Dear Friend,

There are stories and moments in the Bible that are really quite funny.

I mean, yes, absolutely, the Bible is a serious text. But we often forget that humor is rather serious business and is a powerful way to convey a message—not just information, mind you, but a message. And the writers of scripture used humor, I think, to great effect.

Most often, the Bible’s humor involves undermining some absurd human pretension or pointing out human ignorance—which is to say, in part, it’s very classical humor (look at the comedies of Aristophanes for incredible examples of the absurdity of human pretensions and ignorances on display…and look at the surreal hilarity of Monty Python if you’re interested in how that sense of the absurd develops over time!). What’s interesting (and risky) about this sort of humor is that its causes are not so far from the causes of tragedy, and were there not some absurdity involved, were there not some sense that the pretension and the ignorance aren’t a source of danger, are momentary, quickly corrected, or (most strangely, perhaps) held and redeemed by the loving regard of the One who sees us completely and loves us in spite of ourselves…if it weren’t for all that, chances are we would find ourselves in the realm of tragedy, our laughter souring into horror (see Euripides’s Herakles for a terrifyingly brilliant example of how this works).

Our reading from Acts today is a wonderful example of the Bible’s ebulliently robust sense of humor. You might not notice it at first, but there’s a key element of farce that shoots through this reading: nobody knows why they’re doing what they’re doing, and nobody understands the message(s) they’re supposed to deliver…or whether or not there even is a message! The reading starts with Peter not understanding his vision (the vision of the sheet with the animals on it and God insisting that nothing is impure, which funnily enough begins with a rumbling stomach). In the midst of this lack of understanding, gentile visitors arrive who have everything to do with the vision that Peter just saw (guess what, Peter: the gentiles aren’t unclean!)…except Peter’s still trying (in typically Petrine fashion) to puzzle out the vision and doesn’t realize the vision’s meaning is literally right on his doorstep: that the people to whom he’d never expect to preach the good news because he believes them unclean are doing everything they possibly can to hear the good news. Which prompts the Holy Spirit to give a nudge, “Hey! Peter! Look! Over here! You’re taking too long! Pay attention over here!” So Peter eventually attends to his guests. They take him to the gentile centurion Cornelius, who thinks Peter might be divine because he’s received a vision, too (of course we know enough about Peter to know how laughable Cornelius’ first impression of Peter actually is), at which point Peter says, “Could you maybe tell me why I’m here?” Cornelius relates his vision, and ends with the equivalent of, “You’re here because you have something important to say to me and everyone’s listening, so, you know…go ahead.” Peter’s next line might very well be, “Yes! Of course! And what was I supposed to say again?” (There’s even a bit of humor about names in Cornelius’ speech: he’s told to send for Simon who’s not called Simon anymore but who’s staying with Simon who’s not the Simon he should send for.) In the passage that follows, Peter will preach the good news of God’s indescribable love to Cornelius and his household.

There are so many moments in this story when things could go wrong. Cornelius could have dismissed his vision and never sent for Peter. But he listened instead. Peter could have remained trying to puzzle his own vision out on his own. But he listened to the Spirit instead. Peter could have refused to go with Cornelius’ men. But he trusted the Spirit to lead him where he needed to go. Cornelius could’ve thrown Peter out of his house when Peter refused to be worshiped. But he listened. Peter could’ve refused to hear Cornelius’ story. But he listened. Cornelius could have refused to have faith that God had something to say to him through Peter. But he listened and trusted. Peter could refuse to speak, but he will open his mouth and let the Spirit speak. At every turn, when human ignorance or presumption could have thwarted the message of grace that Peter is meant to give Cornelius, the Spirit finds a way to prevent things from devolving into missed opportunities or spiritual tragedy by lavishly giving the gifts of listening and of faith. The Spirit keeps the message going. The Spirit is bigger than our ignorance, bigger than our foibles, bigger than us.

The Spirit will ensure the message is delivered. The Spirit will ensure that the opportunity for repentance, the opportunity to grow in faith and hope and love is not missed. The work of the Gospel will not be thwarted. The revelation of the Reign of Love will not be deferred. We can’t stop it.

And yet the Spirit insists we play a part in the blossoming of Love’s Reign, not so much in spite of our foibles and shortcomings, but because the Spirit manages to use them, too, for love’s purposes. The Spirit insists we engage with our whole lives and selves in the work of Love and will use all of us, every part of us, to accomplish that work in and through us. The Spirit insists that as the Body of Christ in the world, we have mission, we’re called, no matter how unworthy we think ourselves. The Spirit insists that our fulfillment, our joy, is in participating in and identifying with the unfolding of Love’s own Life in the world. All we’re asked to do is listen and trust the Spirit knows us better than we do, loves us more than we can, and will unfailingly guide and carry us where we need to be to do the work the Spirit has called us and empowered us to do.

That’s not necessarily an easy ask. But once we get there, once we arrive where we need to be, we shouldn’t be surprised if the Spirit opens our mouths, and we find ourselves laughing with a holy, hearty, joyful, celebratory laughter that comes to us from God’s own joyful heart, that rejoices in the strange and wonderful goodness of God, and that itself is a true and real expression of the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Under the Mercy,
Fr Mark+