Impractical Jokes

The Volkswagen Beetle is the best-selling, most recognizable, and arguably the most impactful car in history. Its broad appeal means plenty have ended up in the hands of “average people” who may not know much about it. At car shows, cruise-ins, and grocery store parking lots, you might even see a practical joker walk up to a Beetle owner and say, “So how’s the Beetle? Any radiator issues yet?” while the Beetle owner blinks and says, “Uh, no, it’s been pretty reliable so far.”

The practical joker smirks. They’ve made their point. Maybe they’re exchanging high-fives with their buddies, because the Beetle owner clearly isn’t “in the know;” Beetles don’t have radiators. They’re air-cooled. 

Something about car culture seems to attract these people. They’ll walk up to a Corvette owner and ask, “Which engine is in there? Pushrod or over-head valve?” This is a test; both of those terms describe the same thing. Every blinker fluid joke was once used to make someone else feel dumb.

Humor is a joy, and knowledge a gift, until they’re weaponized to build yourself up by pushing someone else down. They’re impractical at serving Godly purposes. Think of it this way: These jokes are actually an effort of stealing from another person – you steal their honor and exchange it for validation, popularity, admiration, approval, and acceptance from other people. 

This is the opposite of how Christ-following people should regard other people:

“Then Jesus said to his host, ‘When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the bind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” (Luke 14:12-13)

Listen to how Jesus picks apart sinful, conventional thinking. Even the act of inviting people to a party or ceremony could be done with the intention, hope, insinuation, or expectation of getting a little something in return. It’s giving with the hope of getting. Later, Jesus would say, “I do not give as the world gives,” and he’s right. He wants people to do the same. Showing generosity to people who can’t possibly repay you is radical giving, and it should be normal. It should be easy.

Compliment someone who doesn’t like to give compliments. Think about what it does for their hurting, self-focused heart.

Pray for people on the other side of the globe – maybe refugees in Ukraine or Afghanistan, or Christ-followers who can’t legally practice their faith in their country – whom you’ll never meet. Think about God answering their prayer in ways for which they could never give you credit.

Offer to help your neighbor who just bought a classic Beetle “for the nostalgia.” They won’t add to your street cred among other car folks. They can’t teach you anything new about cars. But think about the joy they receive when you reveal the intricacies of their car to them, like when you show them how that spot on their driveway isn’t coolant but a little oil that invariably seeps out of split crankcases. And then lovingly explain what a split crankcase is.

There’s no earthly payoff for this, and that’s the point. As Mother Teresa once said, “God has not called me to the ministry of success. He has called me to the ministry of mercy.” God will “repay” you “at the resurrection of the righteous,” that is, the final manifestation of God’s free grace and mercy, but it isn’t really a repayment if the motivation to give freely comes freely from God in the first place. There, that’s just one more reason why it’s no good to take from other people: the best stuff isn’t taken. It’s given.

When Dr. Ferdinand Porsche answered Adolf Hitler’s design challenge to build a “people’s car” that would mobilize Post-WWI Germany, he made it as inexpensive and accessible as possible. It worked. Volkswagen production did indeed help Germany recover from a war – Hitler’s WWII, which left Germany (and much of Europe) decimated. The Beetle’s frugality, simplicity, and complete lack of pretention would later be an icon for unity-loving peaceniks in America in the 1960s and 70s, and a necessary tool for upward mobility and democracy for Central Americans in the following generation. The Beetle, instead of fueling Hitler’s hate machine, became autodom’s sui generis for empowering diverse masses of people. Let’s keep it that way.