Laughter, anyone?

Franciscan jester here! Lord have mercy, did I have a time this past Sunday! I had awakened extremely early, without meaning to do so, and both the cold weather and my having a mild stomach upset made me decide to attend a local church's quiet 8:00 Eucharist. (It was my first time entering that church.) I am by no means a 'morning person,' and I now am beginning to wonder if my absent-mindedness means I've reached the seventh mansion, lapsed into senility, or merely come to embody the proverbial scholar's role. A blind man was present, with a huge, jet black dog for a guide - and I somehow managed not to see the dog (who probably was as big as I am) and tripped over him on my way to communion. Oh, well, that was not as bad as when I had a shoulder bag and, not realising it had pulled up my skirt en route to the altar rail, treated the congregation to the sight of my knickers...

Foolish though I must appear, I am sharing these silly stories because I think a bit more laughter at our own expense would do us a world of good. Certainly, it is not at odds with the faith. Somehow, I picture Jesus inwardly snickering when, in the parable of Lazarus, he said how those who will not obey the law and prophets would hardly listen to a man who rose from the dead. His saying he 'did not come to call the righteous,' considering it was 'the righteous' whom he was addressing. How about "can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Jeroboam? Aaron's just not knowing what happened - they threw in the gold and this golden calf popped out. And heaven knows there are many stories of the saints which are hilarious. (Forgive my Latin, which is always dreadful - but even the earnest Augustine can be remembered for 'inter urinam et faeces nascimur.')

I loathe political correctness. One must 'walk on eggs' today, not knowing what perfectly good English word suddenly has a new and derogatory connotation. I remember referring to diversity (meaning 'of thought'), and having someone become angry, thinking I meant race. (I'd had no idea that this was the current meaning of the word.) Actually, the politically correct terms often are more offensive than not in many cases. It vaguely reminds me of a smug bitch I used to know who loved to insult others, but would coach it in terms she thought 'inoffensive.' Somehow, where accidentally saying something that just popped into one's head is universal, when someone carefully crafts the insult to use the 'inoffensive' term, it is all the worse for the obvious pre-meditation.

But the other side of the political correctness is that one cannot laugh at the human condition. Perhaps the Orthodox have the right idea, enjoying, even revering, the 'holy fools.' (Francis of Assisi among them.) We need to be so careful today, not to say anything that could be construed as offensive, that we take ourselves far too seriously - when we should not.

I was at a church service once which was exceedingly boring - lots of preaching of the 'guilt trip' variety. I was on verge of going out for air or dropping off to sleep, though the annoyance factor was high. Thank heavens for the unexpected relief! The dreadful homilist, warming up for another round of 'we have it too good - we may be headed for hell,' made a reference to the apostle Peter. A retarded girl who was sitting near me said, in fairly projecting tones, "Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and Peter!" Yes, I laughed, as did others - and what a blessing. (Before anyone brings me to court for supposedly degrading the mentally challenged, may I add that I doubt this was any funnier than my incident with the shoulder bag. Oh, well, that's how Marilyn Monroe got started, I hear... and I have four times as much to display as she had.)

I laugh at my own hearing impairment. So, someone asked the way to All Souls... and I heard 'gallstones.' And I laugh at my being in 'outer space.' I well recall when Doris was proudly showing me a necklace which was a gift from her sons. It was the type where one can add little charms, and hers had many a memory - I was enjoying hearing what each charm symbolised. Yet I'm sure Doris was puzzled when I saw one charm which was a capital D, and asked "500 what? What does the D stand for?" (It never occurred to me, after wrestling with so much Latin, that it stood for Doris.)

One of my favourite memories is of a senile priest whom I knew. He was far too off with the faeries to handle Mass or confession any longer, but the two other priests hoped he could manage Benediction on his anniversary, provided they stood at his sides. Fr M managed to bless the congregation with the monstrance, but, when he returned to facing the altar, rather than beginning the Divine Praises, he immediately and hilariously began singing "Sweet Violets."

One of the greatest benefits of laughter is that it reminds us of our weakness - without making us guilty or afraid. Once we have a good look at universal human frailty, we can set all personal superiority aside and perhaps take a step towards love of neighbour - or see our own limitations and develop some sense of divine providence.

Politically correct or not, I shall laugh to my dying day at the memory of once hearing a Franciscan priest (deadpan, and obviously unaware of his error) say, at the point of lifting the Host, "Behold the leg of lamb!"