“God loves a cheerful giver.” So writes the Apostle Paul to the Christians in Corinth. “God loves a cheerful giver.” The Greek word that is translated as “cheerful” is “hilaros.” We might therefore translate the sentence to read: God loves a hilarious giver. Or, God loves the one who gives with hilarity. I looked up hilarity in a thesaurus, and this is what I got: amusement, laughter, merriment, mirth, glee, joviality, cheerfulness, conviviality, reckless joy.
Greek scholars suggest the meaning of the sentence is closer to this: God loves the one who gives with a laughing heart or God loves the one who gives with dancing eyes.

If it is true that God loves those who give with merriment and mirth and glee and laughing hearts, it might be just the thing on this Sunday on which we kick-off the 2006 Stewardship program, to ourselves experience hilarity, to enjoy mirth, to express glee, to laugh together, indeed, perhaps even enjoying a joke or two.

Which reminds me:

Why did the fish poke its head out of the water when Jesus taught by the lakeshore?
Because it was hooked!

How do you communicate with a fish?
Drop it a line!

Jokes are not unheard of in sermons. Indeed, some people believe every sermon should begin with a joke: something to warm people up, to break the ice, to create community. On the other hand, there are those who believe this whole church-thing should be dignified, serious, sober, restrained, solemn, i.e., joke-less.
I happen to side with the Apostle Paul, however, in believing that a little hilarity never hurt anybody.

So, did you hear the one about the schoolgirl who was talking to her teacher about whales?

 "Whales can't swallow people," the teacher scolded. "Though they are large mammals, their throats are very small."

"But Jonah was swallowed by a whale," the little girl insisted.

"That just can't be," the teacher said. "It's physically impossible."

"When I get to heaven I will ask Jonah," said the little girl.

The teacher looked down at her, smiled and asked, "What if Jonah went to hell?"

The little girl replied, "Then you can ask him."

The second reading for this Sunday, the story of the Great Catch from Luke’s gospel, tells a different kind of fish story. The fishermen have been out all night, working their nets, positioning their boats, struggling against the wind and tide. This is no Saturday afternoon pleasure trip. This is business. This is their livelihood. It is how they feed their families, how they make their way in the world. The fish that they toil to haul in are what stands between them and poverty. It is what fills their bellies, gives them dignity and purpose and identity in the village.

Fishing in the lake in Galilee in the first century was a respectable livelihood, but it was also a subsistence living. Fishermen fed their families from the fruits of the sea.

First century fisherman had to invest in at least one boat … two were better. They also needed quite a bit of equipment: lines and hooks, wicker traps, dragnets or seines, throw nets and trammels. The work was labor intensive, muscle wearying and time-consuming. And, as we learn from this story: all the work, all the equipment, all the skill didn’t always result in a catch. This particular night the fishermen labor in vain. They catch nothing.
They return to shore. They are weary and defeated. They are cleaning their nets when Jesus comes by. He climbs into one of the boats and teaches the crowds who are gathered on the shore. Jesus then instructs one of the fishermen, Simon Peter, to put out into deep water and let down the nets for a catch.

But, they had been out all night. The nets were cleaned. They were ready to pack it in, go home, sleep. Just then Jesus tells them to start over, do it again, try once more, put out into deep water.

Are you nuts, Jesus? We’ve been at it all night! But, then, with a kind of reckless abandon, with a shrug of the shoulders and a what-the-heck, what-can-we-lose, what-can-it-hurt kind of attitude, with cheerfulness and hilarity, Simon Peter and the others, ready the nets, climb back into the boats, and head back out to fish.

Which reminds me:

There are two fish in a tank. One turns to the other and asks:
“Do you know how to drive this thing?”

John Chrysostom was a Christian monk who lived and wrote in the 4th century. He warned his congregation not to laugh, because, as he explained, Jesus never laughed. Benedict, founder of the Benedictines, and Augustine, one of the great theologians of the early church, were both of a similar opinion: they thought it was indecent to laugh. Christians, they reasoned, were far too full of sin to engage in the frivolity of laughter. Christians, they believed, must focus on the serious, no-laughing-matter-business of saving their souls and there was no time for anything else.

If you are familiar with Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose, you know that the whole premise of that best selling novel has to do with the suppression of humor in the church in the 14th century. The novel revolves around a monk who has discovered a long lost book by Aristotle on comedy. The idea is nothing short of scandalous … imagine Aristotle, that great philosopher of antiquity, writing on comedy! The monk feels the impact would be disastrous for Christianity. He, therefore, poisons the pages so that anyone who discovers and reads the book will die.

Speaking of monks …

One day while driving home from his fishing trip in the pouring rain,
a man got a flat tire outside of a monastery.
A monk came out and invited the man inside to have dinner and to spend the night.
The stranded motorist gladly accepted the monk's offer.

That evening the man had a wonderful dinner of fish and chips.
He decided to compliment the cook.

Entering the kitchen, the man asked the cook, "Are you the fish friar?"
"No," the cook replied, "I'm the chip monk."

This story of the Great Catch and of the Call of the Disciples, is the theme-story for our Stewardship program as members and friends of Old South consider our financial commitment to the church in 2006. That’s why all my jokes are about fish and there were fish in the processional and there will be fish in the recessional and there is the appearance of water in the pews and church, and, on your way out this morning, you will be given fish. The symbol of the fish is among the oldest and earliest Christian symbols, older and earlier than the cross. The Greek word for fish, ichthus, is an acronym for the title of Jesus.

In this story of the Great Catch the fishermen gave up everything to follow Jesus. They gave up their fishing business, their homes and boats and nets and neighbors and families and everything they knew. They embarked upon an adventure of discipleship that in the end, changed the course of human history. Christian discipleship was then – and remains today – an adventure in ethical and generous living, way of life marked by kindness and hospitality, by hope and thanksgiving … a way of life that continues to have a profound effect on our world.
 Yet, the gift of those first followers of Jesus, of those fishermen who left everything to follow him, was a gift of self – a sacrifice of self – that is almost impossible to imagine … and impossible for most of us to relate to.

Jesus and the disciples lived as wandering mendicants. They traveled from town to town by foot. They taught and healed and shared the story of God’s love. In their travels they depended for food and shelter on the generosity and charity of others.

Let’s be honest. We can admire and wonder at the cheerful and reckless abandon with which the disciples gave up everything to follow Jesus. Yet, few of us possess the intention, the will, the health, the freedom, the passion or the courage to sacrifice as these first disciples sacrificed.

Do not loose heart. Christian discipleship is not an-all-or-nothing proposition. The family of Lazarus, Mary and Martha provide an example. This brother and two sisters did not give up everything. On the contrary, they kept their home and often hosted and fed Jesus and the disciples when they came through town. They supported the ministry of Jesus financially, but they also gave in other ways: offering hospitality, providing food, assisting in the care of the ill and lame. They were among Jesus’ closest friends and, there is no evidence whatsoever that he ever chided them for not selling their home to follow him. On the contrary, when Lazarus died, Jesus wept … and then there follows the story of Jesus raising his friend Lazarus from the dead.

The New Testament attests that Jesus and the twelve disciples depended on a network of friends, patrons, hosts and cooks who supported and enabled their ministry and who, in their turn, each served in his or her own way. In other words, the New Testament gives many different models of degrees of discipleship and degrees of sacrifice and degrees of generosity.

As you contemplate your financial gift for 2006 to Old South – or whatever is your church home – consider giving a percentage of your income. Some of us give 10% and some of us give 3%. Give until it feels good and right for you. Find the right level of commitment for you. Give cheerfully. Give with hilarity … give until your eyes begin to dance and your heart begins to laugh … it feels so good in that way. Give, as one means of responding to the call of Jesus on your life.

Speaking of Jesus, did you hear the one about Jesus, Moses and an old man who go out to play golf?

The third hole is a short hole with a pond in front of the green.
Moses tees off and hits his ball into the pond.
He walks to the water’s edge, holds up his club, parts the water,
walks on dry land, and plays his ball onto the green.

 Jesus tees off and he also hits his ball into the pond.
He walks on water, and hits his ball onto the green.

Finally, the old man tees off.  His ball is about to land in the pond
when a fish leaps out and catches the ball in its mouth.
Before it can fall back into the water,
an osprey grabs the fish in its talons and flies off over the green.
A bolt of lightening cracks from the heavens.
The startled osprey drops the fish, which falls onto the green.
As it hits the ground, the fish lets go of the ball.
It rolls into the hole for a hole-in-one.

Jesus says to the old man:

“If you pull any more tricks like that, I’m not going to play with you again, Dad.”

I hope God and you will forgive me these jokes in church. I can only trust that God relishes our laughter, our joy … and, indeed, our cheerful and sometimes hilarious attempts to follow the call of Christ.

For your sake – and for the sake of the church – may you experience dancing eyes and a laughing heart as you respond to Christ’s call upon your life. For God loves a cheerful giver.