“Upstairs his mighty beam turned the Blue Room into a blaze of lights. Before the other angels a man might sink: before this he might die, but if he lived at all, he would laugh…It was like a long sunlit wave, creamy-crested and arched with emerald, that comes on nine feet tall, with roaring and with terror and unquenchable laughter. It was like the first beginning of music in the halls of some king so high and at some festival so solemn that a tremor akin to fear runs through young hearts when they hear it”
–That Hideous Strength, C.S. Lewis
“’We always think of fat people as heavy, but he could have danced against a sylph. I see now what I mean. Moderate strength is shown in violence, supreme strength is shown in levity…And somehow,’ concluded Bull, ‘that’s why I can’t help liking old Sunday. No, it’s not an admiration of force, or any silly thing like that. There is a kind of gaiety in the thing, as if he were bursting with some good news… Why do I like Sunday… how can I tell you?… because he such a Bounder!’”
—The Man Who Was Thursday, G.K. Chesterton
Introduction
Both the above authors, in their respective works of fiction, attempt to describe a facet of the character of God. It is striking that these descriptions both include laughter or merriment. Clearly there is a chord that resonates in both Lewis and Chesterton, and it is that chord which this paper will explore, namely the joviality of God. I use this word with a certain irony, as it literally means “of or relating to Jove,” and describing the true God by referring to an imaginary god seems silly. But the word is useful, and so I shall use it.
“Jovial” captures two concepts, namely majesty and joy, and the word’s value is in its ability to exhibit the connection between these two ideas. Chesterton’s Dr. Bull says that levity is evidence of supreme strength, and Lewis describes the descent of Glund-Oyarsa as a roaring wave of unquenchable laughter.
This brings up the question of laughter. What is it and why do we do it? In the Screwtape Letters, Lewis describes humor as “the sudden perception of incongruities.” Humans laugh for many reasons, but this definition of humor goes to the heart of the matter. We laugh when we perceive incongruities. It should be noted in passing that the very possibility of incongruity is rooted in the fact that God is triune, but that is beyond our modest scope today.
Based off this definition, Tolkien’s idea of “Eucatastrophe” (a sudden and unexpected reversal for good) fits as humor. A sudden reversal is an incongruity, and humor is the sudden perception of incongruity. So the defeat of Sauron is—and ought to be—met by the reader with laughter, and the same would go for Gandalf’s arrival at Helm’s Deep, the fire falling on Mt. Carmel, Daniel coming out of the lions’ den, and ultimately the Resurrection of Christ. Deliverance is cause for laughter because it is unexpected.
The Laughter of God in Scripture
Though the Bible is full of references to joy and gladness, the references to laughter specifically are fairly few and come primarily from the Psalms. The theme running through them is the omnipotence of God compared with the impotence of His enemies.
In Psalm 2:4-5 the LORD mocks by his laughter. He scorns the attempts of earth’s rulers to cast off His rule, and he proclaims the supremacy of His King enthroned on Zion. The incongruency is the kings’ view of themselves compared to reality, and the LORD laughs because it is funny. Something very similar is going on in Psalms 37:12-13. The wicked do not know that their judgement approaches, but the LORD does, and he laughs, again, because it is funny. If this sort of laughter would be sin for us, it is because we do not fully appreciate the joke. We would have our own misperceptions and malice, and petty sense of personal vengeance mixed in with our apprehension of their demise. But God sits in the heavens, unclouded by vindictiveness, and laughs.
But perhaps the best example of the laughter of God is found in perhaps the longest joke ever told: the promised birth of Isaac. When God covenants with Abraham in Genesis 17, he promises him a son by Sarah and many nations by this son. It’s funny because Sarah is really old and Abraham is older. Abraham laughs, later Sarah laughs, but they laugh too soon, slightly awkwardly. When the promised son is in fact born, God tells them to name him “Laughter”. Isaac, the promised son, is the laughter of God.
“Now Abraham was one hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. 6 And Sarah said, “God has made me laugh, and all who hear will laugh with me.” 7 She also said, “Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? For I have borne him a son in his old age.” Genesis 21:5-7
Now everyone gets the joke. The punchline is life from the dead.
The Gospel as Joke
“This supper is not a head down, walls up activity; it is enjoying the greatest and truest joke of all time with our Father and our brethren: Satan tried to kill God.” –Ben Zornes
Now we can tie all these principles together in the resurrection of Christ. I’ve already spoiled the joke, though; the punchline is life from the dead. But, like all the best inside jokes, it gets funnier the more you tell it.
The Resurrection is preceded by the Incarnation which is evidence of the power of God. Only the very great can make himself very small. The ability to humble oneself is evidence of magnanimity. From the vantage point of earth the Incarnation is inherently unexpected. God becoming man, a virgin bearing a son, the shepherds, the magi; it is all hilariously unexpected. We hesitate to laugh because it is also exceedingly wondrous, but let us not forget that this is a move so daring and audacious that only the Almighty God could pull it off.
The Resurrection is the triumph of God over his enemies. Christ’s life and ministry on earth was played out against the backdrop of scheming Sadducees, envious Pharisees, nervous Herodians, and ambitious Romans. The supposed chief priests of the people of God murdered an innocent man so that they might have no king but Caesar. And Caesar obliged. Satan entered Judas and worked the destruction of the Lord’s anointed. They killed him, and he went into the grave. And thus, they sprung the trap. This was “the hidden wisdom which God ordained before the ages for our glory, which none of the rulers of this age knew; for had they known, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.” (1 Cor. 2:7-8) When Christ rose from the dead, he demonstrated to the enemies of God that the ambush had been successful, and now their city was on fire. He who sits in heaven laughs.
The Resurrection is the great eucatastrophe, the greatest of reversals for good. Nothing looked darker than Israel’s situation at the birth of Christ. Israel’s history post-Solomon is one long timelapse of a civilization falling down the stairs. The prophets offered hope, but when we check back in with Israel after the intertestamental period, we find a Idumean homicidal maniac with aggressive building plans murdering anyone he thought was a threat, we find the Romans passing the High Priesthood around like an “Employee of the Month” parking spot, and we find Israel’s best and brightest teachers missing the point of the law almost entirely. Amid this darkness, the light of the world blazes forth, and like a strong man he runs his course with joy. And that strong man calls any who would be part of the romp to leave their sins behind and join him.
The Merry Warrior
The joviality of God ought to define the life and work of the Christian. As a Christian man carries out his duties as husband, father, minister, laborer, schoolman, or whatever else the Lord has given him to do, he must be grounded in a thorough knowledge of the majesty of God, and it should be down there in his bones. If he is robustly convicted of God’s sovereignty and holiness, it will result in levity and unquenchable laughter. Our last two points of interest are 1) how is this conviction acquired, and 2) what will it look like in real life?
God reveals himself in scripture, and thus that is where we find knowledge of Him. The Christian man who reads his Bible carefully and sits under faithful preaching will find the majesty of God. The stereotype is that Calvinists are dour, and there probably are some, but the sovereignty of God is essential to the joy of the Christian. The higher your view of God, the greater your joy. This has strong implications for the worship of God. It seems counterintuitive, but the worship services that emphasize being happy are full of miserable people, and the services characterized by solemnity and reverence are full of joyful people. Worship teaches us who God is and trains us to relate to Him. Reverent worship yields grounded conviction of the majesty and sovereignty and goodness of God.
And this leads to joy and laughter and merriment. The good news of forgiveness of sins is not to be received with weeping, unless they be tears of joy. The fundamental posture of the Christian ought to be joy. Now, of course there are times to weep and times to mourn, but that weeping occurs on top of the granite bedrock which is union with Christ, sins forgiven, life everlasting which cannot be taken away.
This means hearty “Amens” in worship, loud singing on Sunday morning and around the dinner table, quiet patience in affliction, bright-eyed children who learn the joviality of God from their father’s example, and heartfelt toasts to King Jesus. It means jokes and laughter and funny stories. It means seeing all the world as gift. It means confessing sin and standing up straight and feeling the pleasure of God. It means knowing that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. It means wrestling with the kids and kissing the wife and tickling the baby all to the glory of God. In work and in play the Christian’s body and soul should be always reverberating with echoes of the laughter of God. For the Christian has risen with Christ. The punchline is life from the dead.
Of Shoes and Ships 