I Believe in Laughter

For my Anglican Colloquium class at Berkeley Divinity School at Yale I was asked to write a 500 word essay in the style of NPR's This I Believe segment.  We were to give a personal account of our faith and...well, what we believe.  This was mine.  Not surprisingly, I'm the only person in my class to quote Joan Rivers.

This I Believe:  I believe in laughter.  I laugh at everything.  When I was in college I took a course called Tragedy and Comedy that absolutely changed my life.  The course consisted of reading plays by the Greeks, a few medieval plays, and several works of Shakespeare.  Reading through these works we constantly asked: Is life ultimately comic or tragic?  In Aristophanes’ The Frogs, a group of women worshiping Bacchus get radically drunk, one mistakes her son for a lion, cuts off his head, parades it around town on a pike, and slowly sobers up until she realizes what she has done.  To me, this was hilarious.  My classmates, and professor, were horrified.  I’ll never forget Dr. Roper looking at me, shaking his head, and saying, “Charles, you think everything is a comedy.”  I just smiled and nodded.

But why?  I think the great comedienne Joan Rivers put it best.  After making a Helen Keller joke in Wisconsin a man in the audience told her that the joke wasn’t funny because he had a deaf son.  After a few expletives, Ms. Rivers shouted at the man, “Don’t you know what comedy is?  Comedy is to make everybody laugh and deal with things.”  She gave the further example of the tragedy on September the 11^th:  “If we didn’t laugh, where the hell would we all be?”

Life is hard.  Life is very hard.  There are deaths and diseases and injustices and failures and a whole litany of terrible things.  So why even bother going on?  Quite simply, I believe we go on because life is ultimately a comedy.  We get through by laughing.  That doesn’t mean tears don’t have their place.  Everyone knows that the best comedies also make you cry.  I offer up two examples of my favorite plays.  First of all, Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.  Claudio falsely accuses Hero of cheating on him, and she weeps bitterly.  The injustice and unfeeling nature of the scene always brings a tear to my eye.  How often have I been hurt by someone I love?  I know I have opened up my soul to people only to have them take advantage and rip me up.  Another example:  Robert Harling’s Steel Magnolias.  In the film version Sally Field has a breakdown in the cemetery after the death of her adult diabetic daughter who has just given birth.  I have never watched that without crying.  Yet in both these examples, I am laughing hysterically within minutes.

Does this mean that we just brush off life’s tragedies by laughing it off?  Certainly not.  The Neo-Classical rules of Drama state that if a play has a happy ending, then it’s a comedy.  I believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ.  My Christian faith tells me that there is a happy ending awaiting.  Hero and Claudio will get married.  M’Lynn and Shelby will be reunited in heaven.  It’s a simple theology, but it gets me through life’s rough spots.  I believe that in Jesus all will be restored, all wounds will heal, and I will laugh boisterously with the saints.  

You can see the Joan Rivers video here.  Fair warning:  it contains some rather vulgar language.

Baking the Bread

On the night he was handed over to suffering and death, our Lord Jesus Christ took bread; and when he had given thanks to you, he broke it, and gave it to his disciples, and said, "Take, eat: This is my Body, which is given for you. Do this for the remembrance of me. 

-from the Book of Common Prayer



Every Wednesday night the Berkeley Divinity School at Yale hosts a community Eucharist for the wider Yale Divinity School community.  (Wow.  I just used the work community twice in one sentence.  We're big on community here.)  Usually we use the little communion wafers you've probably seen in most Episcopal or Catholic churches.  You know the ones:  flat, white, bland, stick to the roof of your mouth so you have to make that awkward sucking sound to get it loose.  That is not a value judgement, mind you.  The simplicity of the wafers can allow the worshiper to focus on the gift of Jesus' death and resurrection.  Not to mention they are neat.  There's a much smaller chance of crumbs of Jesus falling onto the floor with a tidy wafer.  Having said that, the Berkeley community has decided to try using a more substantial yeast roll baked by students.  I know there are many theologies, opinions, and whatever surrounding the use of yeast and linking the Eucharist to the Passover.  Those are legitimate discussions that I don't intend to have here as it's not the focus of my post.

This week I baked the bread.  Why I signed up to bake I don't know.  I'm not a good baker.  My student apartment has a crappy little oven that's not level and doesn't maintain a constant temperature.  I didn't have any of the required ingredients.  In my zeal to always want to help, though, I signed up to bake the bread.

The recipe was easy, and a quick trip to the Stop and Shop set me all up.  Even with the challenges of a cold-war era kitchen I was able to bake a passably good tray of rolls.  Sure they were uneven, lumpy, and the cross cut into the top didn't really work, but they tasted good.  (Every chef must taste his work, right?)  I just told myself that my lumpy rolls would help people focus on the humanity of Christ.  I'll admit that I worried a bit about how to transport the bread to the chapel.  I didn't have a container that seemed worthy of the Body of Christ.  After much searching through the cabinets I opted for a gallon ziplock bag.  After all, it was just bread at this point, and air tight seemed smart for bread.

This week's service was unusual in that it was a joint effort by the Episcopal and the Lutheran students.  A Lutheran pastor celebrated the Eucharist (beautifully, I might add), and I had the great privilege of serving as an usher.  What I love about ushering is that I get to lead people to the Lord's Table.  When it's time for communion the ushers play gatekeeper and...ush?  is that the verb?  certainly not herd...invite?  I like that.  Invite the congregation to head to the altar.  It's a joy to see the community gather.  To be the one to smile and with my best Vanna White impression gesture the way down the aisle to the table is a great honor.  And then I get to witness the faithful consuming the body and blood of Christ.  I know that to people unfamiliar with Eucharist that sounds gross, but it's really quite beautiful.  The breads I baked were torn apart and distributed to the congregation.  If I had served them at a dinner party people would have politely eaten them, I'm sure, but they weren't anything to write home about.  Through the movement of the Holy Spirit and the love of God, however, my mediocre rolls became the greatest meal one could have.  And I had some small part in that.  It was powerful.

Now here's where I must remain humble.  Yes, it was my skills as a baker that produced the bread, but the graces and beauty of the meal came entirely from God.  It's a great metaphor for life.  Sometimes I give things my very best try.  I sweat and follow the recipe and use my awful little oven, and I end up with a passable if not astounding product.  Even with that just kind-a ok roll, God was able to transform it into something beautiful and holy.  This isn't a defense of mediocrity!  How much better would the experience have been if the rolls were astoundingly good?  Today's Eucharist in Marquand Chapel, for example, featured an incredible homemade Challah bread that I can still taste hours later.  But the graces are the same.  The delicious, impeccable Challah was no holier than my simple rolls.  God's grace knows no limits.  I sometimes look at myself in the mirror and see a lumpy roll.  Should I work on that?  Absolutely.  Does God choose the beautiful person over me?  Absolutely not.

Moses, a murderer with stage fright can lead God's people out of slavery.  Mary, the lowliest handmaiden can be the mother of God.  Jesus, the son of a carpenter from a small town can save the world.    Each of us can serve the Lord.  Thanks be to God.

 Magnificat

 Luke 1:46-55

My soul doth magnify the Lord, * 

    and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior. 

For he hath regarded * 

    the lowliness of his handmaiden. 

For behold from henceforth * 

    all generations shall call me blessed. 

For he that is mighty hath magnified me, * 

    and holy is his Name. 

And his mercy is on them that fear him * 

    throughout all generations. 

He hath showed strength with his arm; * 

    he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. 

He hath put down the mighty from their seat, * 

    and hath exalted the humble and meek. 

He hath filled the hungry with good things, * 

    and the rich he hath sent empty away. 

He remembering his mercy hath holpen his servant Israel, * 

    as he promised to our forefathers,

    Abraham and his seed for ever.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: * 

    as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.

One Love One Life

"One life with each other
Sisters, brothers
One life but we're not the same
We get to carry each other, carry each other
One"  -Some Irish Dudes who have a rock band


This past Wednesday I attended an admitted M.Div. students' day at Yale Divinity School/Berkeley Divinity School.  I had been really excited about making the trip, and even more excited that my wife Katherine was joining me.  "We get to go to church three times in one day!" I told her.  She didn't look as excited as me about that, but she cam along anyway.

We left Newport at 5am in order to be to the Berkeley Center for 7:30 Morning Prayer.  It was a beautiful service in my native tongue (The Book of Common Prayer) where I felt very much at peace and at home.  There was even beautiful organ and piano music accompanying the traditional chants and hymns.

I felt a bit cautious about going to the ecumenical service at Marquand Chapel at 10.  I've been before, and I was less at home with the more evangelical style of worship.  To my great joy and surprise there was again beautiful organ music accompanying the hymns that I recognized along with a moving sermon about Noah given by one of the world's foremost Hebrew Scripture scholars.

Then the fun time came.  Every Wednesday night the Episcopalians at the divinity school put on a Community Eucharist for the wider YDS community.  This week they were incredibly excited to be joined by Dylan Breuer the creator of something called the U2charist.  Now, I know who U2 are, and I've been to many a Eucharist in my day, but never have these two things met me jointly.  Let me begin by pointing out the good:  The musicians were incredible, the chapel was expertly laid out, every detail was given close attention, and the entire event was lovingly, expertly, and faithfully executed.  Now the bad:  I hated it.  Katherine kept staring at me sending me silent messages as only a spouse can do.  The poor guy standing next to her looked so uncomfortable that I honestly felt bad for him.  I know I title this blog the "Unorthodox Christian", but I was looking for something a bit more orthodox in my worship.  I stood there feeling awkward, not wanting to dance, not wanting to sing along as the band played U2 songs all the way through.  To make matters worse, I was sitting in the second row in full view of the band.  I didn't want to insult them by looking uninterested, or worse, judgmental.

Then came time for communion.  We said Eucharistic prayers familiar-ish to me.  The same bread and wine we always share was broken and poured.  As I walked down to receive  the body and blood of Christ I looked into the eyes of my friend Sarah, a student at Berkeley/Yale, who placed the bread in my hands and recited the familiar yet still moving words, "The Body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven".  As I ate the bread and drank the wine I felt overcome with a sense of peace, love, and community.  Even in the midst of something that made me uncomfortable, Jesus was present.  Even in the midst of something I found awkward, the Holy Spirit was present.  Even in the midst of something I found unsettling, God was present.

My parish priest, Mother Anita Schell, often tells me that when I feel uncomfortable or frustrated I should ask what God is trying to teach me.  At the U2charist God taught me that his love and presence can be found ANYWHERE.  I actually found myself bopping along to the music and singing out a bit more after receiving communion.  Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'll ever enjoy the U2charist, but I do believe that the love of God was abundant in that room.  I left uplifted and humbled, and for that, I give thanks to God.

"For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”--Matthew 18:20 (NRSV)