"Amid the sorrow, disappointment, agony, and anguish of the
world,--our dark thoughts and tempestuous passions, the gloomy
exaggerations of self will, the enfeebling illusions of
melancholy,--wit and humor, light and lightning, shed their soft
radiance and dart their electric flash."--_Whipple._
"How curious it is," says the Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, "that we
always consider solemnity, and the absence of all gay surprises and
encounters of wits, as essential to the idea of the future life of those
whom we thus deprive of half their faculties and then call _blessed_!
There are not a few who, even in this life, seem to be preparing
themselves for that smileless eternity by banishing all gayety from their
hearts and all joyousness from their countenances." Rather than believe in
the "smileless eternity" of such as these, we should accept the conjecture
of Soame Jennings, that "a portion of the happiness of seraphim and just
men made perfect would be derived from an exquisite perception of the
ludicrous."
To that school of melancholy teachers who frown upon all pleasantry, and
buttress their gloomy position with the assertion that "Jesus wept but
never smiled," the title of this chapter will be particularly offensive.
It will strike them as downright blasphemy to intimate that Jesus
possessed and used the sense of humor so common to mankind. We assuredly
appreciate the delicacy of the position, and shall endeavor to avoid, in
our treatment of this subject, anything that might wound the most
sensitive soul.
There are several considerations that will pave the way. We take it for
granted that Jesus was a complete human being, and that as such a being he
must have had all the human attributes and faculties,--the faculty of
mirthfulness among them. He was a man, and lacked nothing that pertains to
men. Then, too, had he been without the sense of humor, much in the lives
and characters of those with whom he had to deal, he never could have
understood and reached. The full success of his mission depended upon his
knowing all that there is in man, and upon being able to gain access to
him through every avenue of his nature.
Nor were the circumstances of his life unfavorable to the development of
this particular attribute. Theology and Art have conspired to produce upon
the world the impression that Jesus was an exceptionally wretched and
suffering man. They have taken one or two expressions in Isaiah, such as,
"his countenance was marred," "he was a man of sorrows and acquainted with
grief," expressions which they misunderstood and misapplied, and with them
have laid the foundations of their house of woe. They have seized upon a
few of the sadder incidents of his career, and have exaggerated them into
undue prominence,--have given them undue proportions. Especially have they
made much of his agony in the garden and his death upon the cross. These
events have been magnified into such mountains that all the rest of his
life seems to lie hidden beneath their shadows. It appears never to have
entered the mind of either preacher or painter that the physical anguish
of his death must have been even less than that which many martyrs at the
stake or martyrs upon sickbeds have borne; and that before death came, he
had lived a life with many bright days and many happy experiences. His
existence upon earth was not a protracted sorrow, a monumental grief. Many
a rose had blossomed at his feet before the thorns were twisted into a
crown for his brow.
What shall we say of the thirty peaceful years under his father's roof,
with his brothers and sisters? Did he not in boyhood have the amusements
of other children? Is there not a memento of his youthful sports in what
he says of the games of the children in the marketplace, when they were
playing at weddings and funerals? Did he not, when a young man, delight in
his home and in his companions? Can we imagine that he moved among those
who were nearest and dearest to him, with a face to which a smile was as
much a stranger as a tropic flower to the frozen zone?
When, as a mature man, he entered upon his public ministry, although he
was exposed to frequent attacks from the representatives of the
established religion, yet he was never without friends; never without a
place of refuge from the heat of battle. There were many homes in which a
welcome always awaited him, and whose hospitality he gladly accepted. Is
it probable that he was accustomed to sit in these homes--to use
Shakespeare's phrase--"like his grandsire cut in alabaster?"
More than once we are directly told that "he rejoiced in spirit;" more
than once he spoke of his "joy" to his disciples. There is much evidence
that Jesus was not a wretched but a happy man. Did this happiness never
express itself in words or countenance?
There are other considerations that go far to refute the dismal assertion
that "Jesus wept but never smiled." Tired mothers brought their children
to him and he rebuked the supercilious disciples who interfered. Can we
think that on this occasion he had a woe-begone look? We read of him often
at feasts; would he have been invited if he had been accustomed to sit at
the table like the skeleton at an Egyptian banquet? Did he not by his
frequent attendance upon festive occasions incur the odium of being a
wine-bibber and a glutton? He was also a favorite with the common people.
They heard him gladly. But there must have been something attractive in
his presence and manner, as well as in his words, and the words themselves
must have appealed to the shrewd, homely, common sense of his hearers. If
he had been the sad spirit he has been pictured, would the people have
followed him and listened to him as they did?
When we leave the outward circumstances and the presumption they furnish,
and examine the fragments of his speech that have been preserved for us,
many of them certainly contain the element of humor. We should undoubtedly
call it humor if it came from any other lips than those of Jesus; if we
found it in any other book than the New Testament.
The purpose of this chapter will be grossly misapprehended, however, if
any one shall suppose that we are trying to degrade Jesus to the level of
a professional joker. Nothing is further from our intention. The very
thought is repulsive. One may have and use the sense of humor without
putting on the cap and bells. He may use it with the highest motives and
for the noblest ends. It was said of Hosea Ballou, that "it was no
uncommon thing for him when preaching to excite a smile; but usually it
was done by some ingenious argument that would electrify every one
present." His biographer adds: "It is not known that any person ever
listened to one of his sermons who was not so impressed with his
sincerity, dignity and earnestness, that the recollection of his
occasional humorous sayings was held subsidiary and helpful to his main
serious purpose. His mother-wit was sanctified. It served a divine mission
in diffusing cheerfulness and health." We must always remember that wit
and humor do not mean buffoonery.
It is difficult to understand how any one can read many of the parables
and other sayings of Jesus, and still believe the doleful tale that he
"wept but never smiled." He saw the dancing lights as well as the deep
shadows, the more genial and even ludicrous aspects of life, as well as
its various phases of sorrow and sin, and all these furnished subjects for
his discourse as well as illustrations for his teaching.
Let us now consider some of the ways in which the sense of humor in Jesus
manifested itself.