A few years ago, someone brought me a large rendering of Jesus laughing—yes, a laughing Jesus. As pastor of Living Waters Sanctuary in Virginia Beach, I thought at first that it was sacrilegious. I had never seen a life-sized laughing Jesus, full out guffawing almost. And yet, as I thought back over the last ten years, I had come to know in a few hilarious instances, just how funny Jesus-my brother, my teacher--could be. For example, at one point I was questioning what color Jesus’ eyes would have been. Edgar Cayce claimed they were steel blue grey. Scholars said Jesus was Semitic; thus his eyes were brown. In a meditation, I asked Jesus (who over the years has become a dear companion, though of course he doesn’t always show up when I summon him) what color they really were.
“Well, they could have been grey,” and he blinked at me thru grey eyes, “or they could have been brown,” and he blinked dark brown eyes at me, “or…they could have been one of each!” And he flashed those beauties at me! We both broke out laughing.
During this Holy Week as I contemplate the final sad events of this Jesus of the Gospels, this Jesus my friend, my mind flashes back to an event that occurred while I served as Associate Pastor of the Church of Christ in Yale University. In the summer of 2002, having badly broken 3 tendons in my left ankle, I was on crutches. A dear friend of mine, Evelyn Wakeman, a member of the church and trained in Hawaiian kahuna healing, offered to do a session on my ankle. I gratefully accepted. We walked from my office to the sanctuary at Battell Chapel where I sat down on the front pew of the glorious dark wood and bright stained glass windowed chapel and Evelyn knelt before me. No matter that the organist was up on the open second floor practicing her pieces for Sunday service.
Evelyn commenced the healing ritual. I didn’t know what to expect, but I trusted her and my heart was wide open. After some moments, I jumped from chronos to Kairos—ordinary time to Divine time—and found myself limping up to the steps of the magnificent altar and kneeling down on one. Jesus was standing there with his arms wide open to me! I wasn’t conscious of anything but him.
“Do you love me? Do you want to follow me?” I heard him ask.
Overcome with emotion and disbelief, I finally found my voice and sobbed out, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”
All of a sudden, hundreds of tiny white birds began to flutter all around me, their wings a-whir—even more disoriented, I kept focusing on Jesus.
“Yes, yes,” I continued to sob through tears of great joy that I was being called by him (even though I had been an ordained pastor for decades).
I can’t remember what happened after that. I was in ecstasy and yet back in ordinary time and place. Over the past 16 years, I have served Him in different forms. I have fallen. I have risen again with the Spirit’s help. For the past 5 weeks in my third bout with chemo and metastasized breast cancer, I ponder anew, “What do you want from me, Jesus? I want to say yes to you again!”
And the gospel words come to me right from Jesus’ lips that Last Supper, “I have come that you may have joy and that your joy may be full, complete.”* JOY? I query. Not wisdom, not holiness, but JOY? I can do that! I’m pretty joyful already, but there’s so much more to celebrate while we’re alive. And the other great thing about joy—it’s meant to be shared! You can’t help it. When you’re full of joy, it just overflows to those you love or those you might not even know: with a smile, holding open a door for a struggling person, or being patient with someone who usually drives you crazy.
Jesus is still up to his shenanigans (and still the radical lover, the peace-maker, the partyer, the preacher, the healer, the embodied expression of fully human and divine, just like we are). My intuitive girlfriend told me yesterday she sees a barefoot man around me, cheering me on in my healing--—playing the bongos! Wow. You gotta love this guy Jesus. He’ll do anything to get a laugh and share the joy—new life out of death—resurrection. Just open your heart. Hallelujah! Amen.
*John 15:11. Photo courtesy of Hank Hayes.
