Dario Fo, one of Italy’s great playwrights and clowns, won the 1997 Nobel Prize for literature.
When he was first informed of this, he thought it was a big joke. Assured and reassured that it was not, Fo exclaimed, “God is a clown!”
Seeing God in freer, more fanciful ways inspires free and fanciful vocational expression. Vocational discernment is no longer a matter of being weighted down by what God demands but rather of being liberated to unleash our vocations in adventurous freedom. This God is our loving, playful partner in daringly and joyfully creating and recreating life, moment by moment.
I conclude my first book, Rest in the Storm: Self-Care Strategies for Clergy and Other Caregivers, with a sermon, “Let There Be Laughter.” The sermon climaxes as follows:
Dario Fo, one of Italy’s great playwrights and clowns, won the 1997 Nobel Prize for literature.
When he was first informed of this, he thought it was a big joke. Assured and reassured that it was not, Fo exclaimed, “God is a clown!”
God is a clown. We do not find these exact words in Scriptures, but we do find these words:
A happy heart makes the face cheerful. (Proverbs 15:13)
The cheerful heart has a continual feast. (Proverbs 15:15)
Everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee. (Isaiah 35:10)
For I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow. (Jeremiah 31:13)
I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. (Luke 2:10)
Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. (Luke 6:21)
Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete. (John 16:24) [God] will wipe every tear from their eyes. (Revelation 21 :4) You may find this clown-talk about a God who dances and sings disrespectful. (I was once criticized by a wellmeaning deacon for being “too playful” in the pulpit. Many years later, I now regard it as one of the best compliments I have ever received.) Perhaps you feel that I am being too playful about the sacred. What good are understandings of God that snuff the joy out of life? Are stuffy understandings of God the stuff of sacred spirited living? How fancifully ought we allow ourselves to think about God as presented in the Christian faith? Well, let’s see. We read of a God who turns seas into highways, whales into transport vessels, and lions’ dens into prayer rooms. In the New Testament, we are presented with God in a man named Jesus who turns water into wine, walks on water, heals without medicine, and stares down death more than once for others, as well as for himself. The biblical record cries out for a God, shall we say, a bit less respectful and restrained than our rituals and practices infer and seem to prefer.
If you are able to see God in dynamic new ways, you will be able to see yourself and your potential in dynamic new ways. This has been true in my experience. Opening up my understanding of God and God’s will has given me permission to ponder and pursue various vocational impulses. Take writing, for instance. If you would have suggested to me ten years ago that I would be experiencing great fulfillment as a writer, I would have looked at you as if you were from another planet. I enjoyed preaching and being a church pastor too much to be distracted by writing. But wider notions of God consciously and unconsciously broadened me and my perception of my capacities and possibilities. Lighter, more spacious understandings of God coaxed me toward a living openness that inspired greater visions of who I was and who I could become. Self-imposed restriction gave way to Spirit-inspired expanse.
Allow
me to share two alternative images of God that have stretched me and my
experience with vocation. The first is God as a jazz musician. The image is
inspired by the soul-stunning remarks attributed to
jazz musicians regarding creativity and imagination. Edward Kennedy “Duke”
Ellington always said that his favorite composition was “his next one.” Mary Lou
Williams spoke of being so in tune with musicians she was playing with that she
could “hear the note he was going to play next.” Miles Davis encouraged
musicians to “go beyond themselves, to the new place, and the next place he is
going, and even beyond that.” Jimmy Scott explains that he sings very slowly
because he believes in the beat, and “the beat sets you free.” When Ella
Fitzgerald sings “Reach for Tomorrow,” I am moved to tears and fresh new energy
for life and ministry. Such heartfelt expressions of artistic vitality enflame
me. These and similar sentiments from the saints of jazz ooze with sanctified
zest that can have no other source than the ultimate creative reality, God.
Perceiving God in such a way predisposes me to experience life and vocational
calling in more creative and dynamic ways.
A God of Dialogue
A man tending his sheep suddenly spots something worth seeing, a bush holding its form while on fire. Moments after positioning himself to get a better view, the man hears a voice that begins a conversation between a mysterious presence and Moses. His life – and the lives of thousands of people – will be transformed.
We can read the call of Moses as God mandating him with a mission that he had to accept. It was in the divine cards. After all, Moses had been rescued from sure death as an infant by Pharaoh’s daughter and protected from all harm as a resident in Pharaoh’s home. It was his undeniable destiny to liberate his people.
But before we accept this interpretation, let’s think about the whole notion of “call.” Calls are not orders; they are appeals that ask for a response. A call is an opportunity, not a mandate, an invitation that we are free to explore and either accept or reject with the assurance that rejection does not separate us from the will or love of God. God’s will and love are much too big for that. With regard to Moses’ call, it is noteworthy that God does not speak to Moses right away, when he catches sight of the flaming shrubbery with his peripheral vision. Not until Moses “turns aside to see” does God call out to him from the bush. From the beginning, the call assumes a dialogue, a conversation. What would have happened had Moses not turned to look at the burning bush? We don’t know. But we can see that the call hinges not on God’s forcefulness but on Moses’ curiosity and continuing interest. God supplies the invitation; Moses has to supply the acceptance.
In fact, the dance between divine invitation and human acceptance continues for two entire chapters. God and Moses go back and forth on the specifics of the liberation plan. It is a fascinating exchange in which Moses wins a major concession. While it may have been God’s original intent for Moses to confront Pharaoh alone, at Moses’ urging, God reconsiders, and Moses’ brother, Aaron, is envisioned as a liberator along with Moses. A spirit of collaboration is evident to the exchange between God and Moses from the beginning to end. Even though God’s intentional inspiration is the primary catalyst in the narrative, the story turns one way or the other on Moses’ response. God’s purpose is actualized through divine call and human response.
Excerpted from Holy Play by Kirk Byron Jones ©2007. Published by Jossey-Bass, a Wiley Company (www.JosseyBass.com). Permission requested.
Kirk Byron Jones is currently a professor of ethics and preaching at Andover Newton Theological School. Dr. Jones serves as guest preacher and teacher at churches, schools and conferences throughout the United States. His writings have been published in various journals and he is the author of several best-selling books. Dr. Jones enjoys a leisure life of family play, reading, listening to music (especially jazz), and having new learning adventures every day.
