Why don’t we ever see Jesus laughing
or cracking a joke or telling a tall tale
that makes his glum disciples hold their sides?
Seldom are they shown smiling. If at all,
it’s Judas with the twisted mouth, that’s how
in famous paintings you can pick him out.
But Jesus—do we ever see him break
into delighted chuckles the first time
he works a miracle and wine pours out
from water pots, saving the wedding day?
Nobody ever laughs in the Bible
except for the pregnant Sarah’s belly laugh
or Yahweh’s Ha! of the know-it-all in Job.
Probably God smiled on the seventh day,
looking down at creation, calling it good.
Let’s hope. But it’s His son I want to see
in stitches, infused with the holy spirit
of the ridiculous, a god made flesh
and full of nonsense, guffawing at the thought
that he is briefly dust and knows he’s dust,
but also immortal! Maybe he smiled
at virgins toweling his feet with their hair
or fumbling Pharisees, but I want much more!
If I were doubting Thomas I would ask
to hear him laugh. Who cares about his wounds!
Loaves and fishes multiplying like rabbits!
Lepers with creamy skin! The lame leaping!
The blind seeing! Lazarus rising up
as if death were a nap! Good news galore!
I might believe him if he smiled more.