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Upcoming SERIES: The Science & Spirituality of HUMOR

No, I’m not kidding.

This is happening.

So, what makes something funny?

There’s a whole science behind finding this out. It’s not merely about personal taste.

The science behind might be the butt of the joke, in some ways, but my new series will provoke thought and attempt to answer some questions:

How and why do we find things funny?

What difference can it make to our development and well-being?

How you can get 16-31% funnier.

Why humor helps heal, learn, and grow.

Why and when does humor fail to be funny? and does it matter?

How to develop your sense of humor so unfunny people won’t drive you crazy.

Does a sense of humor reflect something of God in us?

Why do legions of cat video exist?

and plenty of other things.

So far, in researching the science of humor I’ve learned that even babies find things funny.
Okay. That was not a surprise.

I already knew this. For instance, when I would rip junk mail in front of my 6 month old daughter, she’d go into hysteric fits of hilarious laughter. I kept ripping and she kept laughing. Later, when she could talk she mentioned that it wasn’t because of the paper at all. She was thinking of something else that was funny from earlier in the day.

Something filthy.

There’s a biological reason for babies laughing at paper shredding…

The unformulated concept object permanence?

Maybe, or maybe they are just thinking of something filthy.

So, yes, I am starting with baby steps, as it were.

FACT: Humor is universal and germane to humans even at infancy.

(Picture Stone Philips saying that.)

So, yes. In the end, so to speak, babies think peek-a-boo is funny because they are super immature. (like this baby)

Self- Righteous: What other people are

It’s a good thing you aren’t self-righteous, or this would be a tough article to read. law

…so, I had a fascinating discussion with a friend about “modern-day Pharisees” in the church and what can be done about it.

(This issue extends far beyond the church and people of faith. In short, we may and do all suffer from self-righteousness somehow because we all fall prey to self-deception.)

There’s no way to recapture the conversation I had, but I hope that my noting the highlights is interesting to you.

Summary: Self-Righteous, Pharisee-types seem to be what other people are…this little twist makes getting rid of the problem very hard.

• In short, a pharisaical person is self-righteous.
– The assume they are in the right, doing right, alright. Am I right? Right!

• Most people think they are right most of the time.
– Few people think, “I’m usually wrong and you and others are usually right.”

• People feel they believe the truth, not lies. (Sounds obvious, sure, but consider the greater implications.)
– Obviously, we can’t all be right, but this doesn’t really entering our minds as applying to us.

• Most people believe that OTHER people are self-righteous / pharisaical, not them.
(or if they are pharisaical, it’s only sometimes. The situation doesn’t really trouble them.)

• Self-Righteousness is a delusional episode of the sin pride. It pivots on one losing track of one’s own ongoing and un-remedied sinfulness, as well as one’s blindness to the guilt and weight of that sin.

(Thus, we become self-satisfied with our level of goodness and immune to the devastating implications of sin in any unmitigated form. I’m just great and I’m happy about it. I’m not like you!)

• Unhealthy pride is a universal human malady.

– Whoops, that means it applies to ME and YOU. eesh.

• Recognition of one’s sin that move one toward humility to repent (to God and others) is one of the only sure-fire cures, albeit a temporary one.

—

If you care to weigh in on the topic, go right ahead.

What is the best remedy for pride, in your opinion?

-L

The Religion of Liberation

(Dura Europos - Fresco from 2nd C Synagogue Jews cross the Red Sea pursued by Pharaoh.) — (Dura Europos – Fresco from 2nd C Synagogue Jews cross the Red Sea pursued by Pharaoh.)

The Jewish people have a big event, a central story, that encapsulates what the Jewish (and Judeo-Christian) faith is about:

Crossing a sea: Crossing from slavery to LIBERATION

“Let my people go!”

This is the cry of (the Jewish) God, the Living God, through Moses; and it’s really the cry of freedom in every human heart.

So what do we want to be liberated from?

Oppression.

Yes, of course.

…and oppression takes many forms.

But, we tend to also want liberation from authority…and that’s not what God has in mind. That misses the mark and produces precarious results.

In fact, the best liberation we can have is one that happens internally.

Our heart is liberated from sin and death and then we receive peace and life.

This is no marginal quality of our faith tradition. Liberation is found not in fleeing something (or someone) but in returning.

A homecoming. A reception by the Father for the children he loves.
Liberation must always be about fleeing to someone (the One).

…and that someone isn’t just another warden in a different prison, but One who wants our peace to be fully realized.

It’s about community identity and belonging.
Each brings freedom and saves us from ourselves.

Sometimes we suppose liberation means freedom to act autonomously and unilaterally for our own interests.
True liberation is the antithesis of that.

When I consider, in this very moment, what I hope to be liberated from in my own life, it seems to concern being free from believing lies. Lies about myself, others, and any sorts of ignoble things that imprison my future in a jailhouse of smallness.

A confined place that is missing the grandeur of what it means to be a sentient being enjoying the majesty of creation that a benevolent incomprehendable Being has fashioned.

On Public Showering: The Accidental Peep Show

399448096_e44472b485_z I’m jumping ahead on Funny Fridays, today.

This true story happened a few weeks ago, and it just occurred to me that it makes an amusing tale…so here goes. Why not?

If you follow this blog, you know that I got a new part-time job this summer at a winery. I manage the Tasting Room once or twice a week. It’s been a hectic summer and I worked a bunch of my weekends solid, including missing 9 Sundays of church in a row–A first in nearly two decades. More on that another time.

This is part cautionary tale and part embarrassing antic.

BACKSTORY:
So, I’m commuting 52 miles each way and working a bunch of days back-to-back and it dawns on me, finally, to ask my relatives if I can crash at their home which is only 12 minutes away. Instead of getting home at 11:30-midnight and fitfully sleeping for 5-6 hours and driving back again 52 miles for a hour meeting, this will make everything far better.

They graciously agree, but in the process of making plans, I forget that they will actually be away during that time. But, it’s no matter to them, they extend the offer and I’m grateful for it.

ARRIVAL:

It’s dark and I use my phone as a flashlight to enter their house and the cat is none too pleased. After hissing and keeping her ears back, I greet her.

“Hi, puppy. What’s wrong?” She doesn’t think it’s funny and she disappears for the rest of my stay.

SHOWER SCENE:

I’m achy, stinky, and ready for a shower and bed, so I head upstairs. I’m brushing my teeth and getting my things prepared when I realize a bit of horror…

The window is a big one, and just a sheer curtain separates me from the rest of the neighborhood.

Um, what?

I’m on a second story stage. All light is on me. I’m about to disrobe.

Have they not realized this is optical insanity?

I suppose plenty of people never realize that if one’s house is lit and it’s dark outside, one’s rooms are on display fully. Hum. Saying “one’s” make this seem very Victorian. That’s not the vibe I was going for.

Anyhow…At night, a lit bathroom it turns into like something you would find in a red light district.

Gulp.

If I went outside buck (or doe) naked, I would have more cover than this. I look like the main event, right now.

I imagine hearing slinky music start and then abruptly shaggy men near the street start grumbling and folding up their chairs.

Boo!

Where’s the regular?

We want silver fox!

Then, I blanch as I realize who might spend occasional weekends here, no doubt showering unaware. Oh God, why!

I fight off the urge to send a quick text and have a small vomit burp.

All I have to do is get a shower and get to bed. Stay focused.

ACTION PLAN:
There’s nothing to block the window. Finally, I decide to get undressed with the light off. Dark inside + dark outside = privacy, after all. That’s my plan.

Then, I think of the cat having a good laugh at my expense.

I’ll pretend I’m Hellen Keller. No she was deaf and blind. I think I’d just do a sponge bath if that were the case. No, I’m Mary Ingalls. I can hear Laura and Pa in the next room. The cat is whispering and making them laugh.

Perfect. Sort of.

Oh no, how will I navigate everything when I get out without getting water everywhere, or killing myself?

Wow, it’s dark in here! What a pain! Good, god, I’ll have to tell my daughter it’s a tricky business here.

After I step into the shower I reach out and flip the light back on.
(I can’t do the entire cleaning process blind. I don’t have the skills.)

All this thinking after a long day of work. It’s no match for me.

I deliberate behind the curtain…which I’m discovering is also rather sheer.

IS this all purposeful?

Do they have a web cam in here, or what?

Is this how they plan to save for retirement? Interesting.

Nightly Showers for Harrisburg’s viewing pleasure.

(Gracious tips are appreciated. Give them to the smirking cat.)

Gross! I’m in a freakin’ fish bowl here.

That notion will be hard to scrub from my brain as I try to sleep, won’t it now? I think.

I finish up, flip the light back off before I step out. Careful. Easy. I could twist an ankle.

This will be a fine mess if I fall and need an ambulance, yes? Curses.

[Day dream sequence: Queue harp music.]

Why is it dark in here, ‘mam?

-Well, I’m not fond of starring in peep shows and I fell. Oh, gosh. Can you turn the light back off?

Sorry no. We can’t see. Oh, look, a crowd is gathering down there. Where you yelling for help?

-No. I think they’re regulars.

Huh?

[End day dream sequence]

I towel off as best as I can and sneak for my room. Oh, brother. It’s facing the same way. Big window. Again.
Lucky me, a slightly less sheer curtain blocks it. I guess. A little.

NICE! Grrrr.

So, now I crouch down and get dressed. I flick the bedside lamp on. This will have to do.
Exhausted, I collapse into bed.

Modesty is something I need for me, not for other people, I suppose. At my age, I’ll attract gawkers, and hardly more. And maybe it’s doubtful anyone was watching. But, who knows…the whole experience was…memorable.

THE TAKEAWAY

If it’s lit in your house, and dark outside, be prepared to be a viewable object, like it or not.

It’s just simple optics.

Go ahead, grab a helper and do an experiment…keep your clothes on.

You’ll see what I mean.

How-to MEASURE Maturity

(creative common photo) — (creative commons photo)

I used to think that people got better as they aged. They learned things and got more mature, and became better people.

As a kid, especially, I thought of how little I knew in comparison to my mom and dad, and other adults. I was changing and learning and growing in every way, every day–and I just supposed that growth and improvement were part of the deal in exchange for aging, and not being able to pull off wearing trendy clothes anymore and loose fitting skin.

Nope.

Now, of course, I realize that maturity has very little to do with time spent alive.

Hurts happen.

Wounds can fester.

People can grow bitter and nasty.

People can stay petty and insecure.

They can get lodged in a cell of shame and self-protect or start a habit of attacking others.

True maturity is rare.

Wisdom is a gift received through awareness and often through suffering, but it is not a pension that is received across the board and acquired like Medicare.

Time can work you over like a expert boxer works over a fresh challenger with body blows.

Nevertheless, there is a kind of measure you can employ to see where you stand.

Of course, the temptation will be to first, or more thoroughly, measure others with it. (The more the temptation to do it, or actually doing it, means what? Can you guess? Yes, the more you lack on the scale.)

9 Categories Measure True Maturity:

• love

• joy

• peace

• patience

• kindness

• goodness

• faithfulness

• gentleness

• self-control

Now, on a scale of 1 to 10, how are you doing?

All 10s?

If you’ve noticed some gains and big improvements in these 9 qualities over the last few years, you are getting more mature!

If others have noticed, you might actually be right.

If you sense some problems with a few (or more) of them, then you might be stuck in arrested or delayed development. Ultimately we all should try to grow up…

BUT, that’s not to say “grow old” … There’s a big difference.

The surprise twist is that a spiritually (and in all other ways) mature person usually has a youthful timelessness to himself or herself.

Mature people have a humility that keeps them in a state of learning and growing. They don’t allow themselves to take themselves too seriously or suffer from sustained flare-ups of self-importance. So, in them you see a lack of arrogance, self-righteousness, or aloof disposition.

What should you do if you don’t measure up?

1. Admit it.

2. Ask for help (from God and others).

3. Keep trying and learning as you go.

4. Never think “I’ve made it!” or “I’m better than someone else.”

Galatians 5:22-23

But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!