Now the Gospel of Mark occasionally displays a good sense of humor; and even a fine senses of comedy (including the slapstick variety). A good example of comedy in Mark can be found at 14:51-52, where the soldiers seize the young man (the author himself) by the shorts, and literally wind up 'holding the rag' while their would-be-prisoner runs buck-naked through the countryside. HA! Another example of Mark's humor is at 16:1, where the three women go to anoint the Anointed One. Now this is a rather obvious and amusing pun that is somehow overlooked by the vast majority of commentaries. ... Do you wonder why?

  In Mark, humor and fear, anger and sarcasm, love and hate, compassion and brutality are all part of the spectrum of human experience; and, of course, must be acknowledged and accepted. Therefore it makes perfect sense that the earliest editions ended with the word 'fear'. But Mark s honesty and openness, as well as his sense of humor, were cause for embarrassment in some parts of the early Church. Thus Matthew's gospel was deliberately written as a revised, expanded, and corrected version of Mark. Naturally, Matthew deletes the two episodes mentioned above, and changes Mark's very understandable final 'fear' into the mysterious and highly unlikely 'fearful yet overjoyed' (Mt 28:8). But Matthew is not satisfied to simply associate fear and discipleship; and so in his mission discourse (10:26-42) he goes out of his way to emphasize the theme of 'Do not fear'.

  In the same way, Matthew's handling of the mocking and sarcastic placard is deliberately designed to remove the excessive sharpness of its bite. Here s how it works: Mark uses the phrase 'The King of the Jews' a total of five times; all of them in the same climactic chapter (15:2,9,12,18,26). The last reference is the placard inscription itself, and all five uses are heavily weighted with mockery and derision. Now Matthew uses the phrase only four times; three of which are in the climactic chapter (Mt 2:2; 27:11,29,37). Significantly, the first instance is on the lips of the eastern astrologers, and is clearly used with great respect and admiration. The next three are carried over from Mark s text; but notice how Matthew changes the placard inscription to read "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews." Ah ha!

  Now this is no minor gloss at all; for by adding the Lord s name before the title Matthew has substantially changed the mockery and intended insult into a simple statement of fact! How so? Well, Matthew sees Jesus as the humble Messiah; which is to say, as a humble king of mercy and compassion. Now Jesus' humility and compassion are well illustrated throughout the gospel; but even more revealing is Matthew s use of the title 'Son of David' as the symbol and true name of the humble king of mercy. Now Mark uses this phrase only three times in all, whereas Matthew uses it a total of ten times. That alone clearly suggests its importance to Matthew! In fact, the way Matthew uses the phrase makes it apparent that this title is of primary significance. In his text 'Messiah', 'Son of David', and 'King of the Jews' are all closely linked together, thereby de-emphasizing the scandal of the Cross. Indeed, the identification of Jesus as the Son of David ultimately justifies the placard inscription, such that it merely makes a straightforward factual and theological statement.

  All this can be easily demonstrated. Just compare the openings of the two gospels: (1) "The beginning of the good news of Jesus the Anointed One" (Mk 1:1). (2) "The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham" (Mt 1:1). And if that s not clear enough for you, Matthew's last use of the phrase makes this crystal clear: "'What is your opinion about the Messiah? Whose son is he?' They replied, 'David's'" (22:42). If even the Pharisees know that Christ is the Son of David, then we can be assured that the placard contains far more irony than mockery, and far more truth than insult and sarcasm.

  Now Matthew can also be funny on rare occasions. For example, at Jesus entry into Jerusalem, he has the Lord riding along upon two different animals at the same time. But unlike Mark, this and other bits of comic relief are purely unintentional. In this case it results from Matthew s need to show Jesus' actions as the fulfillment of prophecy, coupled with a far too literal reading of the specific verses in question. Matthew s humor, then, results from error, largely because he seems to lack a well developed sense of humor within himself. This is best revealed in his heavy- handed treatment of Mk, and in his complex handling of the placard (as shown above).

7. Turnabout is Fair Play.

  In 1676 one of the best writer's of the early Quaker movement published an important document entitled 'Apology for the True Christian Divinity'. In it Robert Barclay had much to say on the nature of Christian sobriety. This involved a few observations about the comic spirit as well: "It is not lawful ... nor harmless mirth" (Hyers 22f). This negative assessment of humor may be taken to express the essence of the traditional Christian attitude which is almost as old as the Church. [Buddhism (and especially Zen) has a far more relaxed attitude to the lighter side of reality. In fact, only a little determination and application are necessary in order to uncover dozens of humorous anecdotes and observations and meditations.]

  But three centuries later, another eminent Quaker corrected the excesses of what has since become the prevailing and very dominant Christian attitude (ie. religion as deadly serious and solemn). In 'The Humor of Christ' (1964) author Elton Trueblood recognizes 'the neglected aspect': "Full recognition of Christ's humor has been surprisingly rare. In many of the standard efforts to write the Life of Christ there is no mention of humor at all, and when there is any, it is usually confined to a hint or two. Frequently, there is not one suggestion that he ever spoke other than seriously" (Hyers 176). It is perhaps of no small significance that the recognition of the Lord's humor should come from the most spiritual of the free-churches. And while the Quakers remain among the smallest of the minor Christian sects, their vision surpasses almost all others.

8. The Poverty Illustrated.

  In his book called The Reflection of 'Theology in Literature: A Case Study in Theology and Culture', W.Mallard explores "literature and theology as an interdisciplinary field". This field is important in that a "critical study of literature in its relation to theology may serve as a case study (broad though it is) of theology's relationship to modern Western culture generally" (Mal vii). This project involves, first of all, an exhaustive analysis of language: First & Second Order Discourse, Metaphor, Symbol, Narrative, etc. Eventually (ie. near the very end of the book) Mallard discusses what is meant by a theological reading of literature. It seems that theological literature as such presents the 'proper' theology, whereas non-theological literature may be called 'reflected theology' insofar as it presents a reflection of the proper theology hidden and obscure under various guises. The main distinction here is that "the theology reflected in literature is finally an ambiguous theology" (Mal 253). Having thus reduced literature to a second-rate form of theology, the next step is to determine if the works in question "seem either clearly in harmony or clearly in disharmony with the Christian confession" (Mal 253). Of course, the theologian must exclude from serious consideration any work that is deemed 'an aesthetic failure'. Mallard thus observes that 'Slaughterhouse Five' is a prime example of just such an artistic failure:

  The story contains many pungent critiques and comments on existence, but the author [Kurt Vonnegut Jr] admits that he was simply at a loss to know how to deal in fiction with the bombing of Dresden. Invoking the imaginary realm of the Tralfamadorians provides a dreaming release in which evil is not real, and indirectly comments on the ungovernable horror too grisly to imagine or portray. The book therefore loses aesthetically, though it remains a biting comment on contemporary experience. Much futuristic writing and science fiction also surely fail as art because of the lapse into gnostic speculation. Such a popular work as Robert A. Heinlein's 'Stranger in a Strange Land' falls into this category. (Mal 254)

  In our humble opinion, Mallard's analysis of these two sci-fi classics is idiotic in the extreme (as is his thinking in general). But given his presuppositions and assumptions about what constitutes a literary work worthy of the theologians attention (ie. it must be 'serious and meritorious'), we are not at all surprised that he should summarily dismiss both of these wonderful books! Indeed, in part two of his book, Mallard devotes two chapters to a much more Iengthy analysis of two other famous works of modern literature. These apparently 'worthy' stories are Faulkner's 'The Sound and the Fury', and Kafka's 'The Trial'. Now the choice of these two works, out of all that modern literature has to offer, speaks volumes about the fundamental theological orientation toward literature and culture in general.

  Indeed, from our perspective it would be literally impossible for us to select any other two works that could match these for sheer oppressive bleakness and utter humorlessness. This leads us to suppose that the real reason the sci-fi books mentioned above are rejected is simply because the one has a strong streak of comedy in it (ergo it is not serious), while the other is shockingly immoral (ergo it is not meritorious). Now if the author had simply admitted all this, instead of speaking of aesthetic failure, he would at least have earned our respect for being honest. As it is, Mallard s book only serves to demonstrate the utter failure of modern theology to grasp the essence and spiritual meaning of the comic spirit, and so of literature (and life!) in general.