The Day God Laughed: Easter Homily on Luke 24

It was, without a doubt, the most important day in human history. It was also, without a doubt, the greatest and most beautiful day in human history. And I have a sneaking suspicion it may have been the funniest day in human history. Imagine that scene. Two days ago had been the great darkness, the spine-chilling horror, of the death of Life. The order had been given to secure the tomb, to ensure that nothing out of the ordinary could possibly happen. And now, in the early morning hours, a gaggle of Galilean women, lugging spices and ointments aplenty, come with very clear expectation: to ask the soldiers to move the heavy stone and let them in to visit a corpse. When they come, they find zero soldiers – which is no problem because there's no stone in the way – but then there's no corpse behind it, either (Luke 23:55—24:3)!

The women are totally perplexed – they're at a loss, they're speechless, they're confused and discombobulated. And that's before a couple heavenly folks pop into visibility next to them: “Surprise!” It's a surprise party (Luke 24:5)! And the reason for the party is this news: “He is not here; but he has risen” (Luke 24:6). And so the women race off through the garden as fast as they can, going to go find Jesus' forlorn best friends to pass along the news: “Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and on the third day rise” (Luke 24:6-9). And then, in a twist, nobody believes a word they're saying (Luke 24:11)!

But that doesn't stop Peter – I don't think Peter was really the sharpest, I think he was just the one with the least filter between his instincts and his mouth – it doesn't stop Peter from running full speed through the streets of Jerusalem, running full speed to the garden, racing over grass and flowers, maybe crashing into a tree on the way, maybe stumbling over a root or a rock, and making it to the vacant tomb, full of nothing but the linen cloth they'd wrapped the late Messiah in. And we're told that as he beat his retreat, “he went home marveling at what had happened” (Luke 24:12). Peter was surprised! Maybe his eyes bugged out of his head, maybe his mouth gaped open, maybe a line of drool ran over his lips in his stupor, maybe he giggled giddily and inexplicably to himself. What does it look like to really wonder, really marvel, to be totally and completely caught off-guard?

And I wonder what God, what Jesus, was thinking – surely Jesus, unseen but nearby, was keeping an eye on the proceedings; we know he wasn't far away, not in any sense that mattered. Now, the Jesus we meet in the Gospel texts may be described as a man of sorrows, but he's not really a dour figure. If he were, he wouldn't have been invited to so many parties among the decidedly not-so-pious crowds. Ancient Jewish humor is notorious for putting heavy emphasis on puns and irony, and his teachings are full of them. A few scholars have pointed out that, in his first-century setting, Jesus' teachings are full of humor, even playfulness. I have to think, as this God watched his close friend Peter wandering gobsmacked through Jerusalem by a rock and some fabric, it might have been quite the scene to behold – and may well have been an occasion for the risen Christ to laugh!

And that would be quite in keeping with the rest of their day. What happens later? A pair of followers walk the dusty country roads away from the city, heading toward the village of Emmaus. One of them is Cleopas, and early church historians mention he was in fact Jesus' uncle. The two of them are having a conversation about all that's gone on, and Jesus out of nowhere just walks right up to them. That's a major plot twist, but wait! They don't recognize him! Why not? Because he doesn't let them – even if just in their eyes, he's in disguise. So a disguised Jesus comes in and starts questioning them on what they're talking about. Oh, he knows good and well. But he wants to surprise them. In disguise, along the way he gives them the Old Testament run-down, of how all the Law and the Prophets make sense of the things that happened (Luke 24:13-27).

When they reach Emmaus, Jesus pretends he's got a longer walk to make, pretends to resist their requests to stay with them, until he pretends to give in. And then they gather around a table – just like we are today. It's just like a meal from four evenings earlier – just ninety-six hours separate this meal in Emmaus from the one in the Upper Room, the Last Supper (Luke 24:28-30). You see, he's explained to them that it was “necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory” (Luke 24:26). Because it was. It was necessary for our sakes that the body of Christ should be broken. It was necessary for our sakes that the blood of Christ was to be poured out. We confess our sins, and he welcomes us to the table where the host is Jesus and the meal is Jesus, and that means life everlasting – because we trust him, we have a relationship with him, we behold him.

When these two lost disciples gather around the table with their strange guest, he takes the bread and blesses it – that's the host's job, isn't it? – and then he breaks it and gives it to them. And when he gives it to them, they get to recognize who he really is; the disguise is gone, and at the table he becomes truly visible to them – and then vanishes from sight, remaining with them in their hearts and in their meal (Luke 24:30-31). As they were in total amazement, I have to think that as soon as Jesus was out of sight, he was laughing. The disguise, the surprise, the twists and turns, the delight – he fooled them, and he fooled them into sharing his life! And even Ecclesiastes tells us, “Bread is made for laughter, and wine gladdens life” (Ecclesiastes 10:19)! So right now, on this day of gladness, we're going to approach the table, and, confessing our sins, we ask Jesus to pull a fast one on us, too, before we resume our exploration of this astounding Easter day.

{Here we pause to celebrate the Eucharist}

As soon as they'd finished eating, those followers in Emmaus raced back to Jerusalem, finding not just the main core of Jesus' disciples, the Twelve minus Judas, but also others who'd gathered along with them. I bet those women were there. Maybe some others, too (Luke 24:33-35)! And just as they were swapping stories and tales, just as they were laughing and pondering, surprise! Jesus jumps out at them from thin air – surprise! Naturally, it makes them jump, gives them a shock! If Jesus had wanted, he could have appeared outside and just knocked on the door, right? But he chose to unveil himself in their midst – is it a stretch to think it was for dramatic effect, it was to shock and startle them just like that (Luke 24:36-37).

And they figure he's a spirit, a ghost, an apparition. They worry they're in a horror story; they think this is still a tragedy. And what comes next, it's as if Jesus is saying to them, “Can't you guys get your genre straight? This ain't no horror story! This is a divine comedy!” He starts munching on broiled fish, invites them to inspect his scars and holes, lets them put their hands on him (Luke 24:38-43). At first, we know, they weren't sure what to think. Luke tells us that they disbelieved, but he says why, too: they “still disbelieved for joy.” They didn't trust what was before their eyes, at first, because a risen Jesus was just too good to be true! It was too amazing, too astonishing, too magnificent, too hilariously perfect. But the really risen Jesus presents us with the truth of what was too good to be true, yet is.

I have to think, when the ice was broken, when the disciples and others really grasped that it was Jesus, when their disbelief was broken, they were left, Luke tells us, with the joy and with more marveling (Luke 24:41). I have to think that, in the joy and in the marveling, the disciples laughed! And I have to think Jesus laughed with them – they laughed for relief, he laughed to celebrate their joy! And he gave them the same run-down he'd given Cleopas and friend already in Emmaus – how all of this fit perfectly as the capstone of Israel's story, that “the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance for the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning with Jerusalem” (Luke 24:44-47). Here, I think, Luke is summarizing the whole forty days after the resurrection – this is the basic gist of what Jesus told them the whole time. And you know what? I don't think it felt like boot camp, for the disciples. I don't think it was an unpleasant experience, for them to be reunited with Jesus for those weeks. I think they had a great time.

Time passes; Jesus leads them to Bethany, and he ascends to heaven while in the midst of blessing them with God's favor to carry on their mission (Luke 24:48-51). How do they respond? Luke tells us, “They worshipped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple blessing God” (Luke 24:52-53). And that's the note on which Luke ends his Gospel. The whole closing chapter is suffused with marveling and sprinkled with joy that increases at every turn. Every step of the way, I think Jesus was ahead of his friends in joy – I think his joy was even greater, even bigger, even more full and brimming. I think Jesus loved seeing them puzzle over what was happening, loved giving them the dramatic twist, loved the questions and the ploys and the set-ups and the punchlines. I think that if Palm Sunday was the day God wept, Easter Sunday was most definitely the day God laughed!

Because think about it! What else are all these anecdotes, if not a series of holy pranks? He pranks the women with an empty tomb, unsealed and unguarded, and a surprise scare from a couple angels. He pranks the pair on the way to Emmaus with disguises, questions, and a final unveiling around the table. He pranks the Jerusalem crew with a surprise visit from thin air, with more supper and more festivities. I'm sure he has more to lighten their hearts each day for his duration with them, and even when he goes, he fills them with great joy. These are the joy-giving works of the Lord, and the portrayal of the loving God we find in scripture is one who savors the spread of holy joy and holy mirth.

The older books tell us that, when God laid the foundations of the first creation of the earth, “the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy” (Job 38:7). And when Jesus rose, he was the foundation and cornerstone of a new creation, even more glorious than the first. If every heavenly creation shouted and laughed joyfully at the first, what kind of raucous laughter and exuberant singing pervaded every hall of heaven the day he rose and the day he came home?

Job's comforter Bildad was wrong about plenty, but not about one thing: ours is a God who delights, in the end, after all the suspense and dramatic tension, to finally “fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouting” (Job 8:21). The psalmist likewise tells us that, when God restored his people's fortunes – and never did he do so more dramatically than on Easter morning – “our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy” (Psalm 126:2).

And we know the psalms talk about God laughing at the pointlessness of resisting his onslaught of joy and victory – he laughs at those who oppose him (Psalm 2:4; 37:13; 59:8). How much more, than, must God have laughed at sin and death and Satan as he played the biggest prank on them, as he turned the tables on them, as he set them up for the punchline of his life beyond their reach? And how must have God laughed as he let the disciples in on that big prank, as he told them the happy jest over and over again – the true joke he'd played to destroy all the works of the devil? Blessed were we who wept before over the cross, over the seeming victory of death; because now that the tables have turned, now that the punchline of life has been spoken, we get to laugh and laugh and laugh, just like Jesus promised – and we're laughing with him (Luke 6:21)!

Today, we remember the best prank ever pulled, the best joke ever played – that just when Sin and Death and Hell and Satan thought they had the upper hand, the rug was pulled out from under them, and their foolishness was exposed for all to see and laugh at. And we get to marvel and rejoice when we see and hear the punchline that is the indestructible life of the risen Lord Jesus. This is the day God laughed! And he laughs still, laughs with a laughter that can never be silenced as long as Christ shall live – which is to say, eternally!

Today, he invites you to get the joke. Don't let it pass you by. Don't let it be lost on you. Don't have a lack of humor, which is a lack of faith, that makes you miss out on the punchline that saves you and opens up a world of joy to you. Believe in the risen Christ; trust him, follow him, enjoy his joy. Let him fool you with his crazy ways of true living; get in on his good news. And go forth today, see everything in light of Easter's brightness, and hear in all things the echo of the laugh of our God. For Christ is risen!