Jeremiah 31:1-6; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Acts 10:34-43; Matthew 28:1-10
The Rev. Candice B. Frazer
He is Risen! The Lord is Risen Indeed!
I don’t remember when, but at some point in my childhood I realized my father was, in fact, the Easter Bunny. You would never have thought that to be true if you met him. He was a 6’2”, no nonsense kind of fellow that you didn’t want to pick a fight with. He had been Special Forces in Vietnam and didn’t take anything off of anybody. He was not amused by jokes and though he smiled and laughed a little, his being the Easter Bunny was way out of character.
We never saw him in a bunny suit, but one year he showed his hand. It was my mother’s birthday and he had obviously forgotten. To try and make up for it, he made her a handmade card. It was really a piece of legal paper folded over in half with a crude pencil sketch of an Easter Bunny on it. When you opened the card, it said “Happy Birthday.” It was probably the lamest birthday card in the history of birthday cards. But it became legend in our family.
Instead of my mother getting upset or frustrated that her husband had obviously forgotten her birthday, she instead said, “Thank you Easter Bunny.” And thus, my father’s new identity was born. From then on out, he only ever gave hand drawn Easter Bunny cards. And the drawings never got any better. It didn’t matter what holiday it was; you were getting a bunny rabbit card. Birthdays, Christmas, get well soon from your appendectomy always produced the same card. And the card always elicited the same response, “Thank you Easter Bunny!”
At some point, that became the response to just about anything you received from my father. My sister even added “Bach! Bach!” to the end so that now, the common phrase of thanksgiving was, “Thank you Easter Bunny! Bach! Bach!”
The best part of saying that was not that it sounded so silly. It was that it made my father laugh and became one of those little things that make a family close—the silly, private joke shared amongst us.
On that first Easter morning, God shared his own private joke with all of creation—Jesus wasn’t dead. The devil didn’t win. The joke was on Satan. Instead of the crucifixion being the devil’s victory, the Resurrection became his defeat. And because we are all part of God’s family, we get let in on the joke each year—it is what binds us together as the family of God; the body of Christ.
There was a tradition in medieval Europe where preachers would tell jokes in the pulpit on Easter. The reason for the joke telling on Easter was not simply to try and spice up the sermon, but dated back to an ancient tradition known as Risus Paschalis or the “Easter Laugh,” the idea that a joke has just been played on the devil and, as God’s family, it should be celebrated with laughter.
Supposedly the jokes got to be so raunchy, that bishops began to complain about Risus Paschalis. There must have been some real whoppers because by the 1600s the Pope issued a papal decree outlawing all Easter laughter.
The outlawing of joke-telling from the pulpit may have seemed justified, but I wonder if that might have reflected the sense that sometimes we take ourselves too seriously. When we can no longer laugh at ourselves, we discover that we get lost in our pride and crushed by regret or embarrassment. It causes us to hold too tightly to our image and forget to be a real person.
To be able to laugh at ourselves—our quirks, our mistakes, even our blind spots—helps us to stop pretending that we are in control of everything. It reminds us that we are imperfect and yet, still worthy of love. We don’t always need to be right or impressive.
Laughter creates connection. When you can laugh at yourself, you make space for others to be imperfect too. It offers a sense of security because it reminds us that we are all a little ridiculous.
Laughing at oneself creates resilience. Life humbles us whether we like it or not. The ability to laugh, softens the blow and reframes the pain or failure so that we can hold those moments lightly—learning from them instead of being defined by them.
There is something deeply freeing about being able to laugh at yourself—you become less afraid of failure, of judgment, of getting it wrong. Laughter helps us to take risks and to feel supported in this life.
When the church outlawed laughter, they forgot that laughter is a lot like grace. If we really believe we are loved by God even though we are imperfect and foolish, then we don’t have to cling so tightly to our image. Instead, humor can be an expression of trust—trust in a God who always loves us no matter what.
So, as has become a bit of my tradition at Ascension, I would like to share a few silly jokes with you and maybe evoke a little laughter. Besides, a couple of weeks ago I asked a parishioner how they liked my sermon. They gave me a beautiful compliment telling me it was like the peace and mercy of God. I was flattered but then made the mistake of asking why. They said, “It was like the peace of God because it passed all understanding, and it was like his mercy because it seemed like it would last forever.” So, instead of the peace and mercy of God today, how about a little laughter…
A parishioner told me they had finally read the Bible from cover to cover. I asked him what he thought. His reply, “I really enjoyed it, but I was surprised by how much it quotes the Book of Common Prayer.”
I have a friend who has a church in a small town, and she told me about a squirrel problem the town was having a few years back. It really seemed to affect churches more than anything else. The Presbyterian’s held a prayer meeting to decide what to do about their squirrel infestation. They concluded that the squirrels were predestined to be there and they shouldn’t interfere with God’s will.
At the Baptist church the squirrels had taken an interest in the baptistery. The deacons decided to put a water slide in and let them drown themselves. The squirrels liked the slide and, unfortunately, knew instinctively how to swim, so twice as many squirrels showed up the following week.
The Methodists decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God’s creatures. So, they humanely trapped their squirrels and set them free near the Baptist church.
The Catholics thought the squirrels would be less of a problem if they were drunk, so they set out unconsecrated communion wine. Unfortunately, they learned how much damage a band of drunken squirrels can really cause.
The Episcopalians figured their numbers were down so why not make the squirrels members and help juice up the Annual Report. They baptized and confirmed all of them and now only see them at Easter and Christmas.
The Jewish synagogue had the most luck. They took the first squirrel and circumcised him and haven’t seen another squirrel since.
How many Episcopalians does it take to change a light bulb?
Two—one to change the bulb and the other to complain about how the old one was so much better
A new priest was visiting in the homes of his parishioners.
At one house it seemed obvious that someone was at home, but no answer came to his repeated knocks at the door.
He took out a business card, wrote ‘Revelation 3:20’ on the back of it and stuck it in the door.
When the offering plate was passed the following Sunday, he found that his card had been returned. Added to it was this cryptic message, ‘Genesis 3:10.’
Reaching for his Bible to check out the citation, he broke up in gales of laughter.
Revelation 3:20 begins ‘Behold, I stand at the door and knock.’
Genesis 3:10 reads, ‘I heard your voice in the garden, and I was afraid for I was naked.’
When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bike, until I realized the Lord doesn’t work that way. So I stole one and asked Him to forgive me instead.
Why is swiss the most religious cheese?
Because its holy
What is Jesus’ favorite exercise routine?
Cross training
On their way to get married, a young couple are involved in a fatal car accident. The couple found themselves sitting outside the Pearly Gates waiting for St. Peter to process them into Heaven.
While waiting, they began to wonder: Could they possibly get married in Heaven?
When St. Peter showed up, they asked him. He said, “I don’t know. This is the first time anyone has asked. Let me go find out,’” and he left.
The couple sat and waited and waited. Two months passed and the couple were still waiting. While waiting, they began to wonder what would happen if it didn’t work out; could you get a divorce in heaven?
After yet another month, St. Peter finally returned, looking somewhat bedraggled. “Yes,” he informed the couple, “You can get married in Heaven.”
“Great!” said the couple, “But we were just wondering, what if things don’t work out? Could we also get a divorce in Heaven?”
St. Peter, red-faced with anger, slammed his clipboard onto the ground.
“What’s wrong?” asked the frightened couple.
“OH, COME ON!,” St. Peter shouted, “It took me three months to find a priest up here! Do you have any idea how long it’ll take me to find a lawyer?”
I pray you might go forth and share in the laughter of Jesus. Find the funny things about yourself, your families or friends that you can poke a little fun at instead of taking offense about. Discover the joy of feeling a little more light-hearted in the world and how much more fun it is to laugh with one another rather than at one another or even arguing with one another. Laughter releases tension and deflates pride and there is already too much tension and pride in the world these days.
Maybe our Risus Paschalis is simply to spread a little joy, even if at our own expense. Remember, Jesus is the LIFE of this party!
Thank you Easter Bunny, bach bach!