I recall two experiences from a distant past that made me laugh. A taxi ride in Beijing offered a not-for-laughter scene with several dozen elderly citizens engaged in a serious routine of Tai Chi exercises. I have seen it before, but a drive-by a park scene of such a group made me chuckle. To me they all looked funny, standing on one leg and making weaves with their arms, though engaged in a serious healthy activity.
A second story comes from India. A few years later, a drive-by Mumbai offered a destined-for-laughter scene. For thirty minutes in the morning hundreds of Mumbai business people, teachers, housewives, even doctors could be seen in numerous city parks indulging in a feast of merriment. Reporting on the phenomenon, the India Times said, “laughter gurgles through the gardens” of Mumbai. Twenty-five of those parks have their own laughter clubs of 60+ citizens religiously meeting daily to immerse themselves in laughter.
They follow a “sacred” protocol. They stand in rows - men on one side, women on the other - and start with a warm-up chant: Ha-ha, ho-ho. Then, suddenly, they break into a cackle at the group’s leader’s signal. The laugher routines come in variations - Silent Laugh (internal), Executive Laugh (funny faces, polite giggles), and so on.
When interviewed - they say, “I am renewed.” One of them was not overtly philosophical when saying, “Gradually laughter turns into a natural habit, they say. It becomes a way of life.” The whole laughter movement in India started twenty years ago with a certain doctor, who laughed, and then went public with it.
If you care to notice, in our Western world, those who are most somber-looking are often found in a church pew.
A Facebook comment by one of my friends made me pause. Referring to an endless struggle with women’s ordination in the Seventh-day Adventist Church, he said that the upcoming San Antonio, Texas, world synod-like convocation would spend a full day debating and deciding what to do with the issue – permit more than mandate - that would stick globally. Then he said, “Maybe there will be time for a comedian or two to lighten things up a little.”
Actually, clergy ordination is not a funny matter. One could argue, however, that the diatribe surrounding a born-in Christianity issue had become somewhat crazy at times. There are individuals who are involved in officially addressing the issue who are passionately advocating that ministerial ordination is a game men play. Frankly, the length of research and debates on its gender-inclusive merits is centuries long and borders on farce. The recent stages of the decades long discussions paints a healthy smile on my face.
Getting back to the “comedy” aspect raised in a Facebook comment, the funny thing is that religious communities in their serious business processes and policy creations are hardly known for any quality experience with comedy. Some religionists cannot stomach a notion that their Creator has a sense of humor.
Though culturally diverse in form and style, comedy is nothing new anywhere. We laugh at the obvious. We look and what we see and that makes us laugh. We laugh at seriousness of life. Some of us even crave that our actions and choices are talked about, with someone having a laugh at our expense. Even at death, we acknowledge a will of the deceased to celebrate their life rather than sob and give-in to endless grief.
As for comedy in a church setting, one can hope that it does not get lost though seriousness on someone’s conviction aims to erode freedom to respect each other’s right to differ, and to … hug each other at the same time. I wish the San Antonio convocation participants would consider hugging. Such an act makes people recognize each other’s humanity and offers a moment of comedy, which is often missed in life.
The Millennials among us have a laugh at horse-like faces when pompous religious pronouncements are being made. Honestly, one should “never expect the Spanish Inquisition,” right? The Monty Pythons are not known to be Millennials, but they seriously inserted into our consciousness a need for healthy irreverence, sprinkled with a good laugh at human foibles and the chronic terminal seriousness that actually no one is asking for.
Later this summer, when thousands of church synod delegates gather to give their expression to either a status quo or a vote for clergy equality, would at least some agree with an author of Psalm 126:2 (NIV) - "Our mouths were filled with laughter."
Would there be laughter at the end of the vote – whichever way it will go – in San Antonio, Texas? Personally, I do not expect many tears of joy. But I have been mistaken before.