Have you heard the joke—the devil walks into a bar...? Probably not, but you might have if you had lived during the fifteenth century. That was the era of the
risuspaschalisor the Easter Laugh; a time when people made merry at the expense of Satan.
Even the homilies at Mass included jokes that would invite the congregation to fill the church with the music of laughter. In time, the revelry became so raucous that Pope Clement X (1670-1676) had to finally prohibit the practice. Pope Maximillian III also prohibited the festivities in the eighteenth century.
Lest you think such a practice had its place then but not now, you might want to consider Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger’s comment, “That may be a somewhat superficial form for Christian joy, but is there not something very beautiful and appropriate about laughter becoming a liturgical symbol?” Elsewhere he writes, “On Easter, we imagine Jesus’s laughter of redemption. We who share an Easter faith can say, like Sarah, ‘God has made me laugh.’”
During the fifteenth century, such celebrations took place on the first Sunday after Easter. One of the pastimes was to hang the devil in effigy and bat it around like a piñata during a party. The timing should also sound familiar to you as this Sunday is now Divine Mercy Sunday. We are Catholic; therefore, we celebrate. For me, it was no coincidence these two festivities were brought together, that of Divine Mercy and the Sunday celebrating God’s Divine Humor.
In today’s vernacular the
risus paschalis might be translated: "the Resurrection, Satan, you are so busted!” Should you consider hosting such a celebration, swatting a devil styled piñata could be a fun way to begin or end a party. In fact, Easter Laugh celebrations have been popping up in various parishes around the country.
The image of Sarah’s desperate desire to have a child is an apt one for our world hungering for life; a life that finds its ultimate meaning in the Paschal Mystery, God’s gift of Divine Mercy. And it is in finding meaning that one discovers the source of joy. St. Teresa would famously quip, “from sour-faced saints, good Lord, deliver us.” Our world has no need of sour-faced saints as it is sad enough already.
Hurting people need to encounter those who have discovered the most radical understanding of the gospel or good news with its Greek rendering “victory.” Put that word in your liturgical dictionary and retrieve it the next time you hear the gospel proclaimed at Mass.
C.S. Lewis, the great Christian author, wrote these lines after his Preface to his book
The Screwtape Letters: ‘The devil . . . the prowde spirite . . . cannot endure being mocked.’ He was quoting St. Thomas More, a man very fond of laughter. The book itself is a spiritual parody of Satan’s methodology of temptation. I read it several years ago and with great delight, I would recommend it if you have not already done so.
Just think—Easter fell on April 1 this year; another joke on that “prowde spirite.” So, the next time you are tempted, remember to give the devil his due and laugh. God did and because He did, you can too.