“The Parable of the Blind Leading the Blind,” by Abel Grimmer (1565-1630)
Joe Carter at First Thoughts links to an intriguing article by James Martin, S. J. in The Wall Street Journal, called “Jesus of Nazareth, Stand-Up Comic?” Before you take offense at the title, take time to read the piece. I think he makes an excellent point.
There are more overt signs of Jesus’s appreciation of a sense of humor. My favorite is the story of Nathaniel in the Gospel of John. When he hears that Jesus is from Nazareth he says, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” It’s a dig at Jesus’s hometown, which was seen as a backwater. What does Jesus say in response? You would expect the grumpy Jesus to castigate Nathaniel. But he does the opposite. Jesus says, “Here is an Israelite without guile.” In other words, here’s a guy I can trust! And Nathaniel joins the apostles. It’s an indication of Jesus’s appreciation of a sense of humor.
Jesus’ parables, I’ve long believed, are particularly opaque to modern Christians because of our wrong-headed insistence on treating them as solemn guides to exemplary living. My own reading of the gospels (though Heaven knows I’m no scholar, and understand Greek not at all) has convinced me that parables need to be taken one at a time. Some are solemn, like the story of Lazarus and the rich man. But others involve crazy exaggeration (Jesus loved hyperbole, to an extent that would probably get Him in trouble in the modern church), and can best be described as a spiritual kick in the pants.
Martin gives some examples, which I generally agree with. One of my own favorites is the Parable of the Unjust Steward, in which Jesus tells—with apparent approval—the story of a manager who first of all embezzles his employer’s money, and then, before cleaning out his desk, gets a bunch of his boss’s debtors to falsify their loan documents, so that they’ll owe him favors. How many Sunday School teachers have twisted themselves into logical knots trying to get a “Go and do thou likewise” out of that story? The real point is just that crooked sinners are smart enough to “feather their nests” by helping others, purely out of self-interest, and we should be smart enough to do the same with an eye to eternity, especially since we handle wealth that our Master wants us to share.
When I was in a musical group I always meant to write a comic skit re-imagining the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant as a Godfather-style gangster story.
“You wanted to see me, Don Vito?”
“Yeah, Louie. Siddown. You want a cigar? Somethin’ to drink?”
“No, no thank you, Don Vito.”
“Wanna get right to business, huh?”
“If that’s all right, Godfather.”
“Sure, sure. OK, here’s the thing. I been hearin’ some stories. Whispers in my ear, you know? Something about you and Benny the Ninepin. You know about these stories?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What I been hearin’ is that you beat him up, broke his arm with a pool cue. Is this true?”
“He owed me money, Godfather.”
“How much, Louie?”
“A C-note.”
“A C-note.”
“That’s right.”
“One-hundred bucks.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Now Louie, I’m confused. ‘Cause I seem to recall a time when you came up short… what was it? Two million simoleons?”
“Uh, somethin’ like that.”
“An’ all the boys told me I ought to break your neck and bury you out in the flats, so the other collectors would be more careful next time. But you was my cousin’s husband, so I said, ‘Nah, I’ll let it go this time. Put a scare in him and see if he cleans up his act.”
“I’ve always been really grateful, Godfather. You see, that’s why I was tryin’ to collect from Benny, so I could start payin’ you back–”
“A hundred bucks on two million? For that you broke Benny’s arm? Did it occur to you that a guy who’s had two million bucks written off ought to give a break some bum who owes him chickenfeed? What kind of a goombah are you…?”
.
, says that wasn’t what he had in mind at all, according to 
, that the only way to change culture is to make culture. Criticizing and boycotting the cultural goods others have made doesn’t go far enough, because we aren’t making anything to take the place of what we don’t like. With Sherwood Pictures, we have a group of people making movies (and movie tie-in material), and I wonder if they haven’t climbed up to a level where the Chesterton maxim applies: Anything that’s worth doing is worth doing badly.
“Sometimes we hear it said that ten minutes on your knees will give you a truer, deeper, more operative knowledge of God than ten hours over your books. ‘What!’ is the appropriate response, ‘than ten hours over your books, on your knees?’ Why should you turn from God when you turn to your books, or feel that you must turn from your books in order to turn to God? If learning and devotion are as antagonistic as that, then the intellectual life is in itself accursed.” – B.B. Warfield (The Spiritual Life of Theological Students). (via 