I have always loved making people laugh and have often been successful though some of my efforts have fallen flat and sometimes for good reason. Sometimes my timing has been poor, sometimes the intended audience just didn't have a clue what I was talking about or found so funny, or did not have a stomach for gallows, or cynical or off-colour humor, perhaps was in a bad mood or having a hard day, or simply didn't like me enough to recognize or appreciate my fabulous wit.
Humour can be sometimes so hard to get that it can easily turn into offense or worse and it is always important to take care with the way it is used. One thing that is important here is to appreciate how humour can age and become obsolete, not funny, offensive. Some examples here. I just deleted an email from an ex-associate, someone with whom I have ended contact because, well, because he's an offensive and very rude jerk. This man is older, around seventy. He circulated an email featuring a very obese woman in a skimpy bikini on a motorcycle. Not funny in my opinion, at least not at this stage in my life. Like so many others I used to laugh at and tell fat jokes. Now they seem insensitive and cruel and completely unnecessary. We know now that obesity is an illness and that it is completely inappropriate to make fun of someone because of their physical appearance, especially if it's a disability such as obesity. My father was a particularly egregious offender. In the nineties when Lucien Bouchard, was leader of the federal separatist party, Bloc Quebecois, my father "joked" that "since having his leg amputated from necrotizing fasciitis, Lucien Bouchard no longer has a leg to stand on." Even twenty years ago I did not find that funny and I told him so. My father was offended by my response. During a TV news broadcast there was a segment of some people in Seoul, South Korea falling from a collapsing stairway. My father said "That looks almost funny." I replied that I'm sure that for them it isn't. If ever there was a moment in which I was sure that my father looked at me with absolute hate in his eyes, this must have been one of them.
To cut my dear old dad some slack (died 2009 at the age of 81 from Alzheimer's; RIP Dad) he grew up in a very different time. People of other races and different ethnicities were considered fair game, as well as people with disabilities, women and gays and lesbians. It was really a backward, primitive and hating culture that he was part of and which we still seem to be slowly climbing out of. It was an unfortunate symptom of the spirit of his times. That this kind of "humour" was acceptable and generated laughter was all the more unfortunate and one likes to believe that we have moved forward since then. It still seems acceptable to tell jokes about poor and homeless people and I long to see the day when this practice falls out of fashion just as the poorest and most vulnerable members of society are given the dignity of a basic guaranteed income and decent housing.
This is not about "political correctness." It is about treating people with respect and dignity. It is about decency and basic good manners. It is about being kind.
Humour has an intimate quality. When it works, it can really bring down walls and draw people together. In fact, it needs to be used with great care and precision. One misstep can ruin everything. I always try to let the other person drop a clue or a cue of what makes them laugh, of where their funny centre is located before taking that chance and even then I try to do it with great care. In the meantime if someone makes a misstep with me and my own challenged sense of humour I really try to laugh with them even if I find their attempt at humour to be lame, affected, or downright inappropriate. I draw the line at humour made at the expense, or sexualisation of others and this doesn't always go down well
Humour is an integral part of good functioning relationships but it must be approached with care, slowly and with patience, and, well, good humour. We all want to be able to laugh and to bring others into our personal circle with us. But we also all want so desperately to be heard and understood. I say, leave jokes alone altogether, for a while anyway, and focus on things that seem to make us both laugh and smile. Building trust and mutual comfort we are also going to find even more to laugh at, especially ourselves.
And now, How many Christians does it take to change a light bulb?
Well, here is what I pulled from the Internet:
Charismatic: Only one. Hands already in the air.
Pentecostals: Ten. One to change the bulb and nine to pray against the spirit of darkness.
Presbyterians: None. Lights will go off and on at predestined times.
Roman Catholic: None. Candles only.
Baptists: At least 15. One to change the light bulb and three committees to approve the change and decide who brings the potato salad.
Episcopalians (aka Anglicans in Canada0: Three. One to call the electrician, one to mix the drinks and one to talk about how much better the old bulb was.
Mormons: Five. One man to change the bulb and four wives to tell him how to do it.
Unitarians: We choose not to make a statement either in favor of or against the need for a light bulb. However, if in your own journey you have found that light bulbs work for you, that is fine. You are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your light bulb for the next Sunday service, in which we will explore a number of light bulb traditions including incandescent, fluorescent, three-way, long-life and tinted, all of which are equally valid paths to luminescence.
Methodists: Undetermined. Whether your light bulb is bright, dull, or completely out, you are loved. You can be a light bulb, turnip bulb or tulip bulb. A church-wide lighting service is planned for Sunday. Bring a bulb of your choice and a covered dish.
Nazarene: Six. One woman to replace the bulb while five men review the church lighting policy.
Lutherans: None. Lutherans don't believe in change.
Amish: What's a light bulb?
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