A minister woke up on a beautiful Sunday morning and decided to squeeze in a round of golf before services. St. Peter observed the man headed for the golf course and gave God a nudge. "He should be punished for this." God said, "OK, just watch."
The minister proceeded to play the best golf of his life. His club selection was precise, and he hit every shot perfectly. He was shooting par for the first time. "I thought you were going to punish him," said St. Peter. "Just watch," said God.
The minister continued to play flawless golf, and on the 18th hole he shot a hole-in-one. "What kind of punishment is this?" complained St. Peter. "Just think about it," said God. "Whom can he tell?"The minister continued to play flawless golf, and on the 18th hole he shot a hole-in-one. "What kind of punishment is this?" complained St. Peter. "Just think about it," said God. "Whom can he tell?"
I recall this joke as very successful, but I suspect it no longer works as well as it did because the assumptions don't hold. The joke assumes that it is scandalous for a minister to play golf on Sunday morning, and that he would naturally want to conceal his activity. But reverence for the Sabbath and expectations of pastoral piety have waned. Now the minister's pre-service outing is rather unremarkable, and might be regarded as a healthy bit of stress management. Whom couldn't he tell?
When we laugh at the same thing, Cohen says, it confirms that we share not only the same assumptions but the same feelings about the world. Laughing together satisfies a deep human longing for intimacy.
The intimacy-fostering element of jokes explains why many public speakers, including preachers, like to begin with a few jokes. Their aim is not so much to loosen up the crowd as to establish a connection with the audience. The tactic can backfire, however, if the jokes are so bad or so generic as to reveal that the speaker and listener do not share a particular set of assumptions. - Adapted from Christian Century