You may have noticed that the back of the bulletin cover suggests that this Sunday could be called Holy Humour Sunday. Hopefully you have not found the worship so far to be humourless, but there has also not been a specific focus on the theme of humour. In part this is because it is actually quite difficult to craft a worship service that is humourous on purpose. This is only complicated when worship includes both sacraments – baptism – the sacrament of belonging and communion – the sacrament of celebrating our community. Baptism and Communion can be times of deep emotion – but humour is not usually one of them.

My mother thinks that pretty much every Sunday should be Holy Humour Sunday. One of her primary evaluation criteria for a good preacher is the ability to tell a good joke. If a sermon, reflection or meditation can start with a knee-slapper then there's a pretty good chance she will think that the preacher is a pretty good one. I used to agree with her – a good and appropriate joke can go a long way to endearing a listening audience to the preacher. Hook them with a good joke and then reel them in with a poignant series of shoulds and musts and you have a successful sermon. That's sort of how the method goes. And for Mom it works.

As I said, I used to agree with her. I think my mind began changing when I attended worship with Mom and Dad one summer. Mom had told me about the new minister at the little village church where we attended in our summer months at the cottage. She had told me that he was a really good preacher – primarily because he normally started every sermon with a joke. So, I was expectantly and hopefully anticipating being in the presence of this fellow. Now I was also a seminary student at the time so my critical sensors were well tuned, accompanied by the earnestness that comes with a little bit of knowledge and some future thinking as I imagined myself being in this role as minister and preacher in the coming years.

And so there I was, and yes, the preacher started the sermon with a joke. I don't remember it – which means it wasn't off-colour or anything like that – but I do remember that following the worship service my mother was once again extolling the virtues of this minister because of the joke he told and I was left shaking my head – because the joke had nothing to do with what he wanted to say. In my mind he had the hook them with a good joke part of the method down pat, but then the line broke and the congregation was left swimming.

Now I was probably a bit too earnest with my new fangled learning and ideals, but I don't think I was wrong. This was wrong-headed humour, and while we may have smiled or even laughed at the joke he told – he proved that it really had nothing to do with whatever message he wanted to share on that day.

I was not jaundiced by this incident – I've attended and hopefully led many a worship service where the laughs were genuine and the humour was appropriate and pertinent. The faith life is certainly worthy of a good laugh and the human condition and its relationship with the divine is one that is constantly on the verge of descending into mirth and foolishness. I am sure you have heard the term “fools for Christ” on more than one occasion.

The point I want to make and which is reflected in the title of this reflection is that it can be a very thin line between appropriate and inappropriate humour. We all know that jokes are often the places where lines are crossed, where offense is given and taken. We also know that very often the truest things are said in jest and therefore the choice to say something to garner a laugh can be a very important one.

It is this thin line between appropriate and inappropriate that makes the purposeful design of a worship service to be humourous so difficult. Like a stand-up comedian who goes on stage and has everything go over like a lead balloon – the consequences of poorly conceived “holy humour” worship might be quite dire.

So, please forgive me if you were hoping for a good joke, or a series of zingers when you read the back cover of the bulletin. I'm not even sure you'll get a pun today – I guess we'll have to wait and see.

However, I think that there is a certain foolishness present in at least one of the readings today. I don't see much in that first reading we had from Acts. No, this is serious stuff. Accusations and threats are the order of the day. So that leaves the psalm and the reading from the gospel. Well, the psalm is quite a bit happier than the one from Acts. It is echoed in the opening hymn we had today – an air of joy and celebration – which might conjure up thoughts of humour – joy and humour are often found together. But even the psalm is earnestly joyful – not the kind of foolishness I was thinking of. The gospel reading remains.

First of all it is John's account of post resurrection encounters with the risen Christ. In my mind, John is the most serious of the gospel writers – not a lot of fun in what he has to say and how he tells it.

But just take a moment and consider what this passage tells us.

Many people would want us to believe in a bodily resurrection – and a large number of those in the Christian community would say that this is a defining element – believe in the bodily resurrection or refute your claim to be Christian. A particularly humourless contention.

But read the passage again. Not once, but twice, Jesus makes it into a room through locked doors. Now either this risen Jesus has been blessed with the ability to pick locks, or the passage goes out of its way to make sure that we understand that this is a spiritual appearance. Spirits can find their ways into locked rooms, bodies not so much. Either that or teleporting has a much longer history than we knew.

I've described on several occasions the Celtic concept of thin places - places in the physical world that are very close to the spiritual world. It's a very rich concept and I expect that just in mentioning it there are times and places you can think of that would fit this description. And of course it is not just physical places – it can also be a point in time. Baptism and Communion are two such times – times when physical matter and spiritual matters intersect.

And the thin line I've described which accompanies the incorporation of humour into worship is also a thin place – a place where the Holy Spirit can touch us, inciting a smile and even a laugh even as it teeters on the edge of appropriateness.

And finally, let me suggest that the walls of those rooms where the risen Jesus entered were thin walls too – places where the physical and spiritual worlds met in a deep and mysterious way.

Oh and by the way – there was a play on words in what I said a few moments ago – did anyone catch it?

Extra points if you did. You can redeem them anywhere and anytime.

Thin line, thin walls, thin places – the presence of God is just like that – revealing itself in the infinite connections between physical and spiritual that occur in every moment of our lives.

Rejoice and be glad, and laugh for most healing relief. Amen.