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humor

25 paragraphs · about 10 minutes

Every paragraph the index cites under humor, once, in the order of the book. Beside each stand the entries that cite it.

28:5.165. The Joy of Ex­is­tence. By na­ture these be­ings are re­flec­tively at­tuned to the super­aphic har­mony super­vi­sors above and to cer­tain of the ser­a­phim be­low, but it is dif­fi­cult to ex­plain just what the mem­bers of this in­ter­est­ing group re­ally do. Their prin­ci­pal ac­tiv­i­ties are di­rected to­ward pro­mot­ing re­ac­tions of joy among the var­i­ous or­ders of the an­gelic hosts and the lower will crea­tures. The Di­vine Coun­selors, to whom they are at­tached, sel­dom use them for spe­cific joy find­ing. In a more gen­eral man­ner and in col­lab­o­ra­tion with the re­ver­sion di­rec­tors, they func­tion as joy clear­ing­houses, seek­ing to up­step the plea­sure re­ac­tions of the realms while try­ing to im­prove the hu­mor taste, to de­velop a super­hu­mor among mor­tals and an­gels. They en­deavor to demon­strate that there is in­her­ent joy in free­will ex­is­tence, in­de­pen­dent of all ex­tra­ne­ous in­flu­ences; and they are right, al­though they meet with great dif­fi­culty in in­cul­cat­ing this truth in the minds of prim­i­tive men. The higher spirit per­son­al­i­ties and the an­gels are more quickly re­spon­sive to these ed­u­ca­tional ef­forts.

30:3.73. The Re­ver­sion Di­rec­tors are the pro­mot­ers of re­lax­ation and hu­mor—re­ver­sion to past mem­o­ries. They are of great ser­vice in the prac­ti­cal op­er­a­tion of the as­cend­ing scheme of mor­tal pro­gres­sion, es­pe­cially dur­ing the ear­lier phases of mor­ontia tran­si­tion and spirit ex­pe­ri­ence. Their story be­longs to the nar­ra­tive of the mor­tal ca­reer in the lo­cal uni­verse.

38:2.1An­gels do not have ma­te­rial bod­ies, but they are def­i­nite and dis­crete be­ings; they are of spirit na­ture and ori­gin. Though in­vis­i­ble to mor­tals, they per­ceive you as you are in the flesh with­out the aid of trans­form­ers or trans­la­tors; they in­tel­lec­tu­ally un­der­stand the mode of mor­tal life, and they share all of man’s non­sen­su­ous emo­tions and sen­ti­ments. They ap­pre­ci­ate and greatly en­joy your ef­forts in mu­sic, art, and real hu­mor. They are fully cog­nizant of your moral strug­gles and spir­i­tual dif­fi­cul­ties. They love hu­man be­ings, and only good can re­sult from your ef­forts to un­der­stand and love them.

44:3.43. The play builders. Enor­mous ed­i­fices are uti­lized dur­ing the sea­sons of rest, what mor­tals would call recre­ation and, in a cer­tain sense, play. Pro­vi­sion is made for a suit­able set­ting for the re­ver­sion di­rec­tors, the hu­morists of the mor­ontia worlds, those tran­si­tion spheres whereon takes place the train­ing of as­cen­dant be­ings but re­cently re­moved from the evo­lu­tion­ary plan­ets. Even the higher spir­its en­gage in a cer­tain form of rem­i­nis­cent hu­mor dur­ing their pe­ri­ods of spir­i­tual recharg­ing.

48:4.1Joy­ful mirth and the smile-equiv­a­lent are as uni­ver­sal as mu­sic. There is a mor­ontial and a spir­i­tual equiv­a­lent of mirth and laugh­ter. The as­cen­dant life is about equally di­vided be­tween work and play—free­dom from as­sign­ment.

48:4.2Ce­les­tial re­lax­ation and super­hu­man hu­mor are quite dif­fer­ent from their hu­man ana­logues, but we all ac­tu­ally in­dulge in a form of both; and they re­ally ac­com­plish for us, in our state, just about what ideal hu­mor is able to do for you on Uran­tia. The Mor­ontia Com­pan­ions are skill­ful play spon­sors, and they are most ably sup­ported by the re­ver­sion di­rec­tors.

48:4.3You would prob­a­bly best un­der­stand the work of the re­ver­sion di­rec­tors if they were likened to the higher types of hu­morists on Uran­tia, though that would be an ex­ceed­ingly crude and some­what un­for­tu­nate way in which to try to con­vey an idea of the func­tion of these di­rec­tors of change and re­lax­ation, these min­is­ters of the ex­alted hu­mor of the mor­ontia and spirit realms.

48:4.4In dis­cussing spirit hu­mor, first let me tell you what it is not. Spirit jest is never tinged with the ac­cen­tu­a­tion of the mis­for­tunes of the weak and erring. Nei­ther is it ever blas­phe­mous of the righ­teous­ness and glory of di­vin­ity. Our hu­mor em­braces three gen­eral lev­els of ap­pre­ci­a­tion:

48:4.51. Rem­i­nis­cent jests. Quips grow­ing out of the mem­o­ries of past episodes in one’s ex­pe­ri­ence of com­bat, strug­gle, and some­times fear­ful­ness, and oft­times fool­ish and child­ish anx­i­ety. To us, this phase of hu­mor de­rives from the deep-seated and abid­ing abil­ity to draw upon the past for mem­ory ma­te­rial with which pleas­antly to fla­vor and oth­er­wise lighten the heavy loads of the pres­ent.

48:4.62. Cur­rent hu­mor. The sense­less­ness of much that so of­ten causes us se­ri­ous con­cern, the joy at dis­cov­er­ing the unim­por­tance of much of our se­ri­ous per­sonal anx­i­ety. We are most ap­pre­cia­tive of this phase of hu­mor when we are best able to dis­count the anx­i­eties of the pres­ent in fa­vor of the cer­tain­ties of the fu­ture.

48:4.73. Pro­phetic joy. It will per­haps be dif­fi­cult for mor­tals to en­vis­age this phase of hu­mor, but we do get a pe­cu­liar sat­is­fac­tion out of the as­sur­ance “that all things work to­gether for good”—for spir­its and mor­ontians as well as for mor­tals. This as­pect of ce­les­tial hu­mor grows out of our faith in the lov­ing over­care of our su­pe­ri­ors and in the di­vine sta­bil­ity of our Su­preme Di­rec­tors.

48:4.8–12 · five paragraphs not cited here ·

48:4.8But the re­ver­sion di­rec­tors of the realms are not con­cerned ex­clu­sively with de­pict­ing the high hu­mor of the var­i­ous or­ders of in­tel­li­gent be­ings; they are also oc­cu­pied with the lead­er­ship of di­ver­sion, spir­i­tual recre­ation and mor­ontia en­ter­tain­ment. And in this con­nec­tion they have the hearty co-op­er­a­tion of the ce­les­tial ar­ti­sans.

48:4.9The re­ver­sion di­rec­tors them­selves are not a cre­ated group; they are a re­cruited corps em­brac­ing be­ings rang­ing from the Ha­vona na­tives down through the mes­sen­ger hosts of space and the min­is­ter­ing spir­its of time to the mor­ontia pro­gres­sors from the evo­lu­tion­ary worlds. All are vol­un­teers, giv­ing them­selves to the work of as­sist­ing their fel­lows in the achieve­ment of thought change and mind rest, for such at­ti­tudes are most help­ful in re­cu­per­at­ing de­pleted en­er­gies.

48:4.10When par­tially ex­hausted by the ef­forts of at­tain­ment, and while await­ing the re­cep­tion of new en­ergy charges, there is agree­able plea­sure in liv­ing over again the en­act­ments of other days and ages. The early ex­pe­ri­ences of the race or the or­der are rest­ful to rem­i­nisce. And that is ex­actly why these artists are called re­ver­sion di­rec­tors—they as­sist in re­vert­ing the mem­ory to a for­mer state of de­vel­op­ment or to a less ex­pe­ri­enced sta­tus of be­ing.

48:4.11All be­ings en­joy this sort of re­ver­sion ex­cept those who are in­her­ent Cre­ators, hence au­to­matic self-re­ju­ve­na­tors, and cer­tain highly spe­cial­ized types of crea­tures, such as the power cen­ters and the phys­i­cal con­trol­lers, who are al­ways and eter­nally thor­oughly busi­nesslike in all their re­ac­tions. These pe­ri­odic re­leases from the ten­sion of func­tional duty are a reg­u­lar part of life on all worlds through­out the uni­verse of uni­verses but not on the Isle of Par­a­dise. Be­ings in­dige­nous to the cen­tral abode are in­ca­pable of de­ple­tion and are not, there­fore, sub­ject to re-en­er­giz­ing. And with such be­ings of eter­nal Par­a­dise per­fec­tion there can be no such re­ver­sion to evo­lu­tion­ary ex­pe­ri­ences.

48:4.12Most of us have come up through lower stages of ex­is­tence or through pro­gres­sive lev­els of our or­ders, and it is re­fresh­ing and in a mea­sure amus­ing to look back upon cer­tain episodes of our early ex­pe­ri­ence. There is a rest­ful­ness in the con­tem­pla­tion of that which is old to one’s or­der, and which lingers as a mem­ory pos­ses­sion of the mind. The fu­ture sig­ni­fies strug­gle and ad­vance­ment; it be­speaks work, ef­fort, and achieve­ment; but the past sa­vors of things al­ready mas­tered and achieved; con­tem­pla­tion of the past per­mits of re­lax­ation and such a care­free re­view as to pro­voke spirit mirth and a mor­ontia state of mind verg­ing on mer­ri­ment.

48:4.13Even mor­tal hu­mor be­comes most hearty when it de­picts episodes af­fect­ing those just a lit­tle be­neath one’s pres­ent de­vel­op­men­tal state, or when it por­trays one’s sup­posed su­pe­ri­ors falling vic­tim to the ex­pe­ri­ences which are com­monly as­so­ci­ated with sup­posed in­fe­ri­ors. You of Uran­tia have al­lowed much that is at once vul­gar and un­kind to be­come con­fused with your hu­mor, but on the whole, you are to be con­grat­u­lated on a com­par­a­tively keen sense of hu­mor. Some of your races have a rich vein of it and are greatly helped in their earthly ca­reers thereby. Ap­par­ently you re­ceived much in the way of hu­mor from your Adamic in­her­i­tance, much more than was se­cured of ei­ther mu­sic or art.

48:4.14 · one paragraph not cited here ·

48:4.14All Sa­ta­nia, dur­ing times of play, those times when its in­hab­i­tants re­fresh­ingly res­ur­rect the mem­o­ries of a lower stage of ex­is­tence, is ed­i­fied by the pleas­ant hu­mor of a corps of re­ver­sion di­rec­tors from Uran­tia. The sense of ce­les­tial hu­mor we have with us al­ways, even when en­gaged in the most dif­fi­cult of as­sign­ments. It helps to avoid an overde­vel­op­ment of the no­tion of one’s self-im­por­tance. But we do not give rein to it freely, as you might say, “have fun,” ex­cept when we are in re­cess from the se­ri­ous as­sign­ments of our re­spec­tive or­ders.

48:4.15When we are tempted to mag­nify our self-im­por­tance, if we stop to con­tem­plate the in­fin­ity of the great­ness and grandeur of our Mak­ers, our own self-glo­ri­fi­ca­tion be­comes sub­limely ridicu­lous, even verg­ing on the hu­mor­ous. One of the func­tions of hu­mor is to help all of us take our­selves less se­ri­ously. Hu­mor is the di­vine an­ti­dote for ex­al­ta­tion of ego.

48:4.16The need for the re­lax­ation and di­ver­sion of hu­mor is great­est in those or­ders of as­cen­dant be­ings who are sub­jected to sus­tained stress in their up­ward strug­gles. The two ex­tremes of life have lit­tle need for hu­mor­ous di­ver­sions. Prim­i­tive men have no ca­pac­ity there­for, and be­ings of Par­a­dise per­fec­tion have no need thereof. The hosts of Ha­vona are nat­u­rally a joy­ous and ex­hil­a­rat­ing as­sem­blage of su­premely happy per­son­al­i­ties. On Par­a­dise the qual­ity of wor­ship ob­vi­ates the ne­ces­sity for re­ver­sion ac­tiv­i­ties. But among those who start their ca­reers far be­low the goal of Par­a­dise per­fec­tion, there is a large place for the min­istry of the re­ver­sion di­rec­tors.

48:4.17 · one paragraph not cited here ·

48:4.17The higher the mor­tal species, the greater the stress and the greater the ca­pac­ity for hu­mor as well as the ne­ces­sity for it. In the spirit world the op­po­site is true: The higher we as­cend, the less the need for the di­ver­sions of re­ver­sion ex­pe­ri­ences. But pro­ceed­ing down the scale of spirit life from Par­a­dise to the se­raphic hosts, there is an in­creas­ing need for the mis­sion of mirth and the min­istry of mer­ri­ment. Those be­ings who most need the re­fresh­ment of pe­ri­odic re­ver­sion to the in­tel­lec­tual sta­tus of pre­vi­ous ex­pe­ri­ences are the higher types of the hu­man species, the mor­ontians, an­gels, and the Ma­te­rial Sons, to­gether with all sim­i­lar types of per­son­al­ity.

48:4.18Hu­mor should func­tion as an au­to­matic safety valve to pre­vent the build­ing up of ex­ces­sive pres­sures due to the mo­not­ony of sus­tained and se­ri­ous self-con­tem­pla­tion in as­so­ci­a­tion with the in­tense strug­gle for de­vel­op­men­tal prog­ress and no­ble achieve­ment. Hu­mor also func­tions to lessen the shock of the un­ex­pected im­pact of fact or of truth, rigid un­yield­ing fact and flex­i­ble ever-liv­ing truth. The mor­tal per­son­al­ity, never sure as to which will next be en­coun­tered, through hu­mor swiftly grasps—sees the point and achieves in­sight—the un­ex­pected na­ture of the sit­u­a­tion be it fact or be it truth.

48:4.19While the hu­mor of Uran­tia is ex­ceed­ingly crude and most inartis­tic, it does serve a valu­able pur­pose both as a health in­sur­ance and as a lib­er­a­tor of emo­tional pres­sure, thus pre­vent­ing in­ju­ri­ous ner­vous ten­sion and over­se­ri­ous self-con­tem­pla­tion. Hu­mor and play—re­lax­ation—are never re­ac­tions of pro­gres­sive ex­er­tion; al­ways are they the echoes of a back­ward glance, a rem­i­nis­cence of the past. Even on Uran­tia and as you now are, you al­ways find it re­ju­ve­nat­ing when for a short time you can sus­pend the ex­er­tions of the newer and higher in­tel­lec­tual ef­forts and re­vert to the more sim­ple en­gage­ments of your an­ces­tors.

48:4.20The prin­ci­ples of Uran­tian play life are phil­o­soph­i­cally sound and con­tinue to ap­ply on up through your as­cend­ing life, through the cir­cuits of Ha­vona to the eter­nal shores of Par­a­dise. As as­cen­dant be­ings you are in pos­ses­sion of per­sonal mem­o­ries of all for­mer and lower ex­is­tences, and with­out such iden­tity mem­o­ries of the past there would be no ba­sis for the hu­mor of the pres­ent, ei­ther mor­tal laugh­ter or mor­ontia mirth. It is this re­call­ing of past ex­pe­ri­ences that pro­vides the ba­sis for pres­ent di­ver­sion and amuse­ment. And so you will en­joy the ce­les­tial equiv­a­lents of your earthly hu­mor all the way up through your long mor­ontia, and then in­creas­ingly spir­i­tual, ca­reers. And that part of God (the Ad­juster) which be­comes an eter­nal part of the per­son­al­ity of an as­cen­dant mor­tal con­tributes the over­tones of di­vin­ity to the joy­ous ex­pres­sions, even spir­i­tual laugh­ter, of the as­cend­ing crea­tures of time and space.

63:4.2The tribal life of the an­i­mal an­ces­tors of these early men had fore­shad­owed the be­gin­nings of nu­mer­ous so­cial con­ven­tions, and with the ex­pand­ing emo­tions and aug­mented brain pow­ers of these be­ings, there was an im­me­di­ate de­vel­op­ment in so­cial or­ga­ni­za­tion and a new di­vi­sion of clan la­bor. They were ex­ceed­ingly im­i­ta­tive, but the play in­stinct was only slightly de­vel­oped, and the sense of hu­mor was al­most en­tirely ab­sent. Prim­i­tive man smiled oc­ca­sion­ally, but he never in­dulged in hearty laugh­ter. Hu­mor was the legacy of the later Adamic race. These early hu­man be­ings were not so sen­si­tive to pain nor so re­ac­tive to un­pleas­ant sit­u­a­tions as were many of the later evolv­ing mor­tals. Child­birth was not a painful or dis­tress­ing or­deal to Fonta and her im­me­di­ate progeny.

66:5.29These lead­ers con­tributed much to bring­ing about in­ter­tribal mar­riages. They fos­tered court­ship and mar­riage af­ter due de­lib­er­a­tion and full op­por­tu­nity to be­come ac­quainted. The purely mil­i­tary war dances were re­fined and made to serve valu­able so­cial ends. Many com­pet­i­tive games were in­tro­duced, but these an­cient folk were a se­ri­ous peo­ple; lit­tle hu­mor graced these early tribes. Few of these prac­tices sur­vived the sub­se­quent dis­in­te­gra­tion of plan­e­tary in­sur­rec­tion.

74:6.7The Adamic chil­dren at­tended their own schools un­til they were six­teen, the younger be­ing taught by the el­der. The lit­tle folks changed ac­tiv­i­ties ev­ery thirty min­utes, the older ev­ery hour. And it was cer­tainly a new sight on Uran­tia to ob­serve these chil­dren of Adam and Eve at play, joy­ous and ex­hil­a­rat­ing ac­tiv­ity just for the sheer fun of it. The play and hu­mor of the pres­ent-day races are largely de­rived from the Adamic stock. The Adamites all had a great ap­pre­ci­a­tion of mu­sic as well as a keen sense of hu­mor.

78:5.8The mi­gra­tory con­quests of the And­ites con­tin­ued on down to their fi­nal dis­per­sions, from 8000 to 6000 B.C. As they poured out of Mes­o­po­ta­mia, they con­tin­u­ously de­pleted the bi­o­logic re­serves of their home­lands while markedly strength­en­ing the sur­round­ing peo­ples. And to ev­ery na­tion to which they jour­neyed, they con­tributed hu­mor, art, ad­ven­ture, mu­sic, and man­u­fac­ture. They were skill­ful do­mes­ti­ca­tors of an­i­mals and ex­pert agri­cul­tur­ists. For the time be­ing, at least, their pres­ence usu­ally im­proved the re­li­gious be­liefs and moral prac­tices of the older races. And so the cul­ture of Mes­o­po­ta­mia qui­etly spread out over Eu­rope, In­dia, China, north­ern Africa, and the Pa­cific Is­lands.

80:5.7The Cro-Mag­noid blue man con­sti­tuted the bi­o­logic foun­da­tion for the mod­ern Eu­ro­pean races, but they have sur­vived only as ab­sorbed by the later and vir­ile con­querors of their home­lands. The blue strain con­tributed many sturdy traits and much phys­i­cal vigor to the white races of Eu­rope, but the hu­mor and imag­i­na­tion of the blended Eu­ro­pean peo­ples were de­rived from the And­ites. This And­ite-blue union, re­sult­ing in the north­ern white races, pro­duced an im­me­di­ate lapse of And­ite civ­i­liza­tion, a re­tar­da­tion of a tran­sient na­ture. Even­tu­ally, the la­tent su­pe­ri­or­ity of these north­ern bar­bar­ians man­i­fested it­self and cul­mi­nated in pres­ent-day Eu­ro­pean civ­i­liza­tion.

99:4.1Gen­uine re­li­gion ren­ders the re­li­gion­ist so­cially fra­grant and cre­ates in­sights into hu­man fel­low­ship. But the for­mal­iza­tion of re­li­gious groups many times de­stroys the very val­ues for the pro­mo­tion of which the group was or­ga­nized. Hu­man friend­ship and di­vine re­li­gion are mu­tu­ally help­ful and sig­nif­i­cantly il­lu­mi­nat­ing if the growth in each is equal­ized and har­mo­nized. Re­li­gion puts new mean­ing into all group as­so­ci­a­tions—fam­i­lies, schools, and clubs. It im­parts new val­ues to play and ex­alts all true hu­mor.

129:4.4The Son of Man ex­pe­ri­enced those wide ranges of hu­man emo­tion which reach from su­perb joy to pro­found sor­row. He was a child of joy and a be­ing of rare good hu­mor; like­wise was he a “man of sor­rows and ac­quainted with grief.” In a spir­i­tual sense, he did live through the mor­tal life from the bot­tom to the top, from the be­gin­ning to the end. From a ma­te­rial point of view, he might ap­pear to have es­caped liv­ing through both so­cial ex­tremes of hu­man ex­is­tence, but in­tel­lec­tu­ally he be­came wholly fa­mil­iar with the en­tire and com­plete ex­pe­ri­ence of hu­mankind.

156:2.8Je­sus greatly en­joyed the keen sense of hu­mor which these gen­tiles ex­hib­ited. It was the sense of hu­mor dis­played by No­rana, the Syr­ian woman, as well as her great and per­sis­tent faith, that so touched the Mas­ter’s heart and ap­pealed to his mercy. Je­sus greatly re­gret­ted that his peo­ple—the Jews—were so lack­ing in hu­mor. He once said to Thomas: “My peo­ple take them­selves too se­ri­ously; they are just about de­void of an ap­pre­ci­a­tion of hu­mor. The bur­den­some re­li­gion of the Phar­isees could never have had ori­gin among a peo­ple with a sense of hu­mor. They also lack con­sis­tency; they strain at gnats and swal­low camels.”

Onward

Cited alongside: past, recreation, anxiety, music, reversion directors, self-importance, Jesus, labor