Wit and Humor of the Bible Part 3

It is patriotism that furnishes the cloak in this case. No allusion to their loss of money--surely not; what matters that? "He who steals my purse steals trash." But we must do our duty by our fellow-citizens. We must not let these Jewish notions corrupt our civilization. We are loyal Romans, let all the world know! Is there not something in this incident to suggest the truthfulness of Dr. Johnson's remark, "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel?"

The result of the uproar was that the apostles were beaten and cast into prison. Somehow it was soon discovered that they themselves were Roman citizens, "and when it was day, the magistrates sent the sergeants, saying, Let these men go. And the keeper of the prison told this saying to Paul, The magistrates have sent to let you go; now, therefore, depart and go in peace." It is now Paul's turn to be indignant, and he is not the man to let the opportunity slip. Paul insisted, as he had a right to do, upon his dignity as a Roman citizen. He tartly replied, "They have taken us openly, uncondemned, being Romans, and have cast us into prison; and do they now thrust us out privily? Nay, verily; but _let them come themselves and fetch us_." A touch of nature there! "And they came (meekly enough now, those pompous magistrates) _and brought them out_."

A man who never lacked courage was Paul. It had been told him that there were certain ones among the Corinthians who had respect for his letters, but something bordering on contempt for his person. "For his letters, they say, are weighty and powerful, but his bodily presence is weak and his speech contemptible." This is his answer: "Let such an one think this, that such as we are in word by letters, when we are absent, such will we be also in deed, when we are present." Let those scoffers look to themselves!

In lighter and almost playful vein, is his remark about the church at Corinth, in his second letter: "Truly the signs of an apostle were wrought among you in all patience, in signs and wonders and mighty deeds." And yet there was one point in which the Corinthian church was inferior to others: "For what is it wherein ye were inferior to other churches, _except it be that I myself was not burdensome unto you_?" Paul had allowed the other churches with which he labored to support him, but to the Corinthian church he had not accorded the same privilege. He had favored it with no opportunity for benevolence. "_Forgive me_," he exclaims, "_this wrong_."

Paul relates that on one occasion he had a dispute with Peter at Antioch, in which he "withstood Peter to the face, because Peter was to blame." It is to be doubted whether Peter ever quite forgot this dispute. The memory of it may have lingered and been particularly active when he referred in one of his own letters to "our beloved brother Paul who, according to the wisdom given unto him, hath written unto you; as also in all his epistles speaking of these things; _in which are some things hard to be understood, which they that are unstable and unlearned do wrest_, as they do also the other Scriptures, (pray do not think that I am making brother Paul's writings an exception) _to their own destruction_."

There is another phase of this general subject that is reserved for separate treatment in the following chapter. We pause here to say that the people of Bible times have been removed from the people of to-day by a chasm too wide and deep. We have been accustomed to look upon them as belonging to another race--almost to another world. It is difficult to believe that they were "men of like pa.s.sions with ourselves." It seems almost like sacrilege to intimate that they had their follies and weaknesses; that they did things absurd and laughable, and sometimes went farther and did things that were mean and wicked. There was a vast deal of human nature in those sublime characters. Gail Hamilton sums them up as follows: "Adam had dominion over the earth, but he attempted to shield himself from the divine displeasure by laying the blame upon his wife, which no gentleman would ever do. Noah was a 'just man and perfect in his generation,' if you do not mind an occasional fit of drunkenness. Abraham was a fine old sheik, a truly heroic figure, brave, generous, courteous, hospitable, magnanimous; no wonder the haughty Jews loved to remember and repeat that they were Abraham's children. But Abraham had his weaknesses and fell before his temptations; and Isaac followed in his footsteps. Of Jacob perhaps the least said the better, though he maintained his position as head of his family with unrelenting vigor, calling no man master, either son or king. There may have been other men whose life was 'without fear and without reproach'; but their history is unknown to us; their portrait is hardly more than a name."

IV. THE SENSE OF HUMOR IN JESUS.

"When a child, with child-like apprehensions that dived not beneath the surface of the matter, I read those parables--not guessing the involved wisdom--I had more yearnings toward that simple architect that built his house upon the sand, than I entertained for his more cautious neighbor; I grudged at the harsh censure p.r.o.nounced upon the quiet soul that kept his talent; and prizing their simplicity beyond the more provident, and to my apprehension, somewhat _unfeminine_ wariness of their compet.i.tors, I felt a kindness that amounted almost to a _tendre_ for those thoughtless virgins. I have never made an acquaintance since that lasted, or a friendship that answered, with any that had not some tincture of the absurd in their characters."--_Charles Lamb._

THE SENSE OF HUMOR IN JESUS.

"Amid the sorrow, disappointment, agony, and anguish of the world,--our dark thoughts and tempestuous pa.s.sions, 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 b.u.t.tress their gloomy position with the a.s.sertion that "Jesus wept but never smiled," the t.i.tle 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 a.s.suredly 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 circ.u.mstances 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 amus.e.m.e.nts 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 a.s.sertion 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 circ.u.mstances 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 n.o.blest 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 ill.u.s.trations for his teaching.

Let us now consider some of the ways in which the sense of humor in Jesus manifested itself.

I.

The sense of humor often tempered his rebukes. There was often sunshine on the cloud.

There were times, indeed, as we shall see, when he spoke with unmeasured severity, when his words fell like fiery hail, beating and burning the heads of offenders; but anon he spoke half smiling, half pitying, as if disposed to laugh at the very inconsistencies he censured. In this respect his spirit has been caught by Addison and Goldsmith, by Irving and d.i.c.kens. Richter says that "no one has a right to laugh at men but he who most heartily loves them." Taine says of d.i.c.kens, "Before reading him we did not know there was so much pity in the heart." Jesus loved men, he pitied them, even while his eye detected and his words exposed their faults and foibles.

He had looked with pleasure (remembering his own childhood), upon the games of the boys and girls in the streets of Jerusalem; he thought of their whimsical complaints, as they played at weddings and funerals in the market-place. On one occasion, his severity mitigated by his sense of the ludicrous, he exclaimed, "Whereunto shall I liken this generation? and to what are they like? They are like unto children sitting in the market-places and calling to one another and saying, We have piped unto you and ye have not danced; we have mourned unto you and ye have not lamented." Everything had gone wrong. The others would not play fair. They would not dance when we wanted to play wedding; they would not be mourners when we wanted to play funeral. We have done all we could to please them, but they are "too mean for anything." To the mind of Jesus, the people of that generation appeared to be making the same complaint. They were childishly dissatisfied with every divine messenger,--none could please them. "For John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking wine,"--solemn, gloomy, austere; but they would have none of him. He mourned unto them, but they would not lament. They would not "play at funeral" with him. They turned away and said, "He hath a devil." Then came the Son of Man, bright and cheerful, "eating and drinking," but they would not dance to his piping. They pointed at him and said, "Behold a gluttonous man and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners!" It was impossible to please that generation.

If we place this pa.s.sage side by side with the following from Goldsmith, we shall see at once that if there be humor in the latter, there must also be humor in the former. The subject is the reception accorded the Chinese philosopher who tried to please his friends by his demeanor upon the death of an English sovereign: "I thought it at least my duty to appear sorrowful; to put on a melancholy aspect, or to set my face by that of the people. The first company I came amongst after the news became general was a set of jolly companions who were drinking prosperity to the ensuing reign. I entered the room with looks of despair, and even expected applause for the superlative misery of my countenance. Instead of that, I was universally condemned by the company and desired to take away my penitential phiz to some other quarter. I now corrected my former mistake, and with the most sprightly air imaginable entered a company where they were talking over the ceremonies of the approaching funeral. Here I sat for some time with an air of pert vivacity, when one of the chief mourners immediately observing my good humor desired me, if I pleased, to go and grin somewhere else; they wanted no disaffected scoundrels there. Fum, thou son of Fo, what sort of people am I amongst?" _Whereunto shall I liken this generation?_

There was a certain time when mult.i.tudes followed Jesus, not knowing what they were about, but simply swept along by the enthusiasm of the moment.

He saw that they understood not, so he turned and gave them this gentle caution: "Which of you intending to build a tower sitteth not down first and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? Lest, haply, after he hath laid the foundation and is not able to finish, all that behold it begin to mock him, saying, This man began to build and was not able to finish." Whoever comes after me and does not count upon bearing his cross, is in the predicament of this foolish tower-builder,--a ludicrous spectacle as he sits beside the unfinished structure, his materials exhausted, while all his neighbors, as they pa.s.s by, wag the head and point the finger. Such a spectacle as that will each one of you be who does not count the cost of discipleship. With such gentle strokes of humor did Jesus stay the thoughtless mult.i.tudes who imagined that their empty zeal was genuine loyalty. He set forth their conduct in terms that would most effectually impress upon them its folly,--in terms that appealed to their sense of the ridiculous.

In a sarcastic paragraph of his _French Revolution_, Carlyle speaks of the work of the National Convention thus: "In fact, what can be more unprofitable than the sight of six hundred and forty-nine ingenious men struggling with their whole force and industry, for a long course of weeks, to do at bottom this; to stretch out the old Formula and Law phraseology, so that it may cover the new, contradictory, entirely uncoverable thing? Whereby the poor formula does but _crack_ and one's honesty along with it. The thing that is palpably _hot_, burning, wilt thou prove it by a syllogism to be a freezing mixture? This of stretching out formulas till they crack is, especially in times of swift change, one of the sorrowfullest tasks poor humanity has." Was it not this very formula-stretching that Jesus satirized in more playful vein,--this formula-stretching that existed in old times and that still exists,--when he said: "No man putteth a piece of new garment upon an old; if otherwise, then, both the new maketh a rent, and the piece that was taken out of the new agreeth not with the old"? You can not patch up old terms with new meanings. The new meaning agreeth not with the old term. "And no man putteth new wine into old wine-skins; else the new wine will burst the wine-skins and be spilled, and the wine-skins shall perish. But new wine must be put into new wine-skins, and both are preserved." The man who tries to put new senses into old words, new ideas into old formulas, is like a man who cuts up a new garment to mend an old; like one who puts wine not yet done fermenting into a skin whose capacity admits no further strain. He spoils his new coat and he loses his new wine.

With such ill.u.s.trations as these, ill.u.s.trations embodying a figure or comparison or situation essentially amusing, was Jesus wont to temper his rebukes.

II.

The sense of humor in Jesus enabled him to detect pretension, imposture, hypocrisy, and expose them to the derision of mankind.

If we should find in d.i.c.kens or Thackeray such pictures as Jesus has given of the Scribes and Pharisees, they would strike us at once as the very quintessence of humor. "They go arrayed in long clothing, they love the uppermost rooms at feasts and the chief seats in the synagogues." They are always posturing to attract attention. "They love greetings in the market-places, to be called of men Rabbi, Rabbi." In their way, they are as much given to "deportment" as Mr. Turveydrop, when he says, "I suppose I must now go and show myself about town; it will be expected of me." When they pray, they do it standing in the synagogues or at the corners of the streets that all may see how pious they are; when they perform their deeds of righteousness, a trumpet is sounded before them, to make solemn proclamation; as who should say, "Will the public please take notice; I am about to drop a mite into this poor widow's hand." When they fast they put on "a sad countenance and disfigure their faces" with fict.i.tious woe and weeping, "that they may appear unto men to fast." "See how I lay the dust with my tears," says Launce. Everything they did was done for effect; nothing came from the heart. Their religion was the veriest sham. They had well-nigh reached the measure of South's ideal hypocrite, "who never opens his mouth in earnest, but when he eats or breathes." Well might Jesus say, "The Scribes and Pharisees sit in Moses' seat; _all things, therefore, whatsoever they bid you observe, that observe and do, but do ye not according to their works; for they say and do not_." Does not this remind us of Pecksniff, "who was a most exemplary man, fuller of virtuous precepts than a copy-book; but some people likened him to a direction-post which is always telling the way to a place, and never goes there."

III.

Not only did the sense of humor in Jesus enable him to unmask pretentious hypocrites, but also to expose the absurdities that the mult.i.tudes commonly practiced in the name of religion.

There are those, for example, who in prayer use "vain repet.i.tions,"

thinking that they shall be heard for their "much speaking." They estimate the efficacy of prayer by its quant.i.ty and not by its quality.

They think that if they only keep at it long enough, if they only use mult.i.tudes of words, they will surely attract attention on high.

There are others who think that religion consists in the "washing of pots and cups and such like things" and they "lay aside the commandment of G.o.d." One of their representatives in modern literature is Dolly Winthrop, who tells Silas Marner about the letters "I.H.S." p.r.i.c.ked upon the Christmas cakes: "I can't read 'em myself, and there's n.o.body, not Mr.

Macey himself, rightly knows what they mean; but they've a good meaning, for they're the same as is on the pulpit-cloth at Church; an' if there's any good, we've need of it in this world."

It is curious how the superst.i.tion of externalism has affected many, even n.o.ble minds. Dr. Johnson once said of John Campbell, a political and philosophical writer, "Campbell is a good man, a pious man; I'm afraid he has not been inside of a church for a good many years, but he never pa.s.ses a church without pulling off his hat. This shows he has good principles."

IV.

Jesus perceived the blunders of the well-meaning, but ignorant and ambitious,--such as the man who went to the wedding party without suitable garments, and was unceremoniously shown to the door; such as the obtuse people who, invited to a feast, always took the seats of honor and were as often courteously escorted to seats further down the table. When the "more honorable man" came, the host would say, "Give this man place," and the other would "begin with shame to take the lowest seat." Jesus saw these blunders, and we cannot believe that he was blind to their comical side.

He must have felt that the mistake was a ludicrous one, even when he advised the stupid people who made it, "When thou art bidden, go and sit down in the lowest room; that when he that bade thee cometh, he may say, Friend, go up higher; and then thou shalt have worship in the presence of them that sit at meat with thee."