I bet you know someone like my friend. He has a very dry sense of humor and his face rarely betrays his jokes. I have a really difficult time telling when he is serious and when he is joking. We have a lot of different ways of exercising our senses of humor. Most of us love funny stories. Ones that aren’t completely fictional, but have a bit of basis in actual events, are often the ones that bring the biggest laughs from us. Then there are the somewhat awkward situations that involve a twinge of embarrassment. Often these are more funny after a pit of time has passed between the actual event and the story. Some of us are amused and laugh at word games and puns and the quirks of language. Our jokes often bring groans from some of our hearers. Still others laugh at pranks. YouTube has thousands of videos of a wide variety of pranks being pulled. Some are harmless, others come close to vandalism.

There have been plenty of studies, but I don’t think that we fully understand humor. One thing that seems to be apparent is that humor can let some of the pressure out of the situation. I know a couple of people who know just when to crack a joke in a tense meeting to receive the pressure and get us back to working together instead of choosing sides. That ability is a gift and greatly appreciated. But there is no real formula that gives us control over our laughter. Perhaps that is what makes it so special: we lose control, if even for just a brief moment.

The tradition of Holy Humor Sunday is long standing in some parts of the church. It seems to come and go in other corners of the institutional church. Ours is a congregation where it seems to be more important some years and less so others. We’ve never gotten into elaborate pranks, but there have been a few good jokes, some laughs and general joy around the occasion.

One year we ran our entire service backward, beginning with the postlude and proceeding through the benediction to the offerings, prayers, sermon, scripture, etc. We even walked backwards for the “recessional” and the “processional.” It was great fun, garnered a few laughs and provided a story for people to tell.

I like to tell jokes, but most years it seems as if the Sunday after Easter is just a bit close to the intensity of the Lenten experience for me to be in a real joking mood. Of course events in the life of the community can make a big difference as well. There are things that happen in our lives which simply aren’t laughing matters and demand our serious sides.

The basic premise behind Holy Humor Sunday is that humor is a part of God’s creation. We were made to laugh and enjoy life. Furthermore of all of the jokes that have ever been played, the death and resurrection of Jesus has to top the list. Death isn’t permanent! Jesus really died. Jesus is really alive. It is difficult to wrap your brain around such a concept. It looked, for a while as if the forces of evil had taken over the world. Then, suddenly, everything was changed. It is enough to bring a smile to your face - enough to make you laugh.

In some churches the tradition was to pull pranks on the priest or pastor as a way of relieving the tension and somberness of the Lenten season. Surprising or shocking the leader of the flock was a time for great mirth and laughter. And most of us are pretty good at taking a joke now and then.

Perhaps it is age and experience or perhaps it is just my innate nature, but it seems to me that the week after Easter almost comes too fast for Holy Humor. I’m a great fan of humor. I try to work it into my sermons. I like to laugh and joke, but it has been my experience that Easter is a very difficult concept to grasp - one that doesn’t come quickly or easily. By the second week of Easter we’re still struggling with what has just happened.

I may not get all of the jokes, but I do get Thomas. Perhaps I am a bit skeptical by nature, but try to see the situation from the perspective of the disciples. Their world has fallen apart. They lost not only Jesus, but their entire way of life. They don’t know how they will get food to eat or what work they will pursue. They have lost their closest friends. The disciples essentially abandoned Jesus at his trial and on the cross. They don’t even know if Jesus living again would be a good thing. What if he holds them responsible for their behavior? What if he no longer has the same love for them that they once felt? What if anger and recrimination are the primary emotions of a reunion?

It isn’t just Jesus that they lost in the crucifixion. It was also their vision of the world. They thought the were following the Messiah, who would have victory over the forces of evil in the world. They thought they had chosen the winning side. To see Jesus - the one crucified with nail holes in his hands and feet - might not be a pleasant experience.

Thomas was saying he needed time to wrap his brain around the entire concept: Salvation doesn’t mean military victory. Salvation doesn’t mean that the world is suddenly without any evil. Salvation doesn’t bring an end to poverty or loneliness or pain or distress. It doesn’t work that way. The life of service to others is an on-going commitment, not just a phase that we get through on our way to streets paved in gold and an unlimited buffet line.

There’ll be a few jokes and a surprise or two today at our church. But I suspect that the best jokes will be left for another day. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the power of the resurrection and what it means for our lives today.

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