Tuesday, December 17, 2024

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There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify about the light, so that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but he came to testify about the light. John 1:6–8 (CSB)

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When Mom and Dad bought our first VCR, among the first VHS tapes they snagged were the stand-up routines of Victor Borge and Mark Lowry. I read recently that Victor Borge basically had one act—born on the radio—that he performed, with few tweaks, all over the world. The man was a genius.

My parents saw Mark Lowry in Winnipeg when I was a kid. I remember them telling me about this strange experience called “stand-up comedy.” He had a rubber face, like a Christian version of Jim Carey. Strangely, Mark Lowry is more famous for his Christian song, “Mary Did You Know?” than his comedy. Bet you didn’t know a comic wrote that over-performed contemporary carol. 

I don’t know if those two were the reason that I grew to love comedy but they certainly played a role. 

I’m fascinated by stand-up for more reasons than just the laugh. Comedy is a fascinating form of communication. There are the guys like Bill Cosby who did voices. (“Heeeeeeeeey, I’m fat Albert!”). And then there are the physical comics like Carey and Lowry. There is the deadpan comedy of the young British comedian James Acaster and old-timer Bob Newhart. I love Steve Martin and his shadow Martin Short. Tina Fey and Amy Poehler are brilliant too. 

Now, I can’t endorse the content of their comedy – too much of it is crass – but you can’t deny their artistic talent. These people write and deliver content brilliantly. Never mind the incredible amount of memorization it must take to perform for hours at a time. 

I also love how someone can take something completely ordinary and make it entertaining; that’s more proof of their brilliance. I dare you to try and write a joke the curve of a grand piano. Everyone recognizes that curve as an essential feature of a grand piano, but no one has made a joke about it. Victor Borge did and it was hysterical every time. 

This ability adds meaning to life. Kids, marriage, money, even death – the gifted comedian can find a way to make one laugh even about dark subject matter. She draws us into a story that we recognize and unwraps the humour in the mundane. The comic testifies to joy. 

John the Baptist doesn’t strike me as a funny guy. But his job was very similar to that of a comedian. His singular mission on earth was to testify about light. 

What does light have to do with comedy? That’s simple. Have you ever been at a funeral where someone shares tearfully about their loved one when suddenly they burst out laughing about a warm and funny memory giving a reprieve to the sadness? Laughter breaks through into sorrow like a light in the darkness. 

Next week is the winter solstice with a meagre eight hours and nine minutes of sunlight. The sun will rise at 8:22 am and will set at 4:31 pm in Winnipeg. Blah. My grandpa commented every single year about the length of the day at the winter and summer solstice. Every. Single. Year. 

That is what darkness and light do to us. And that is what laughter and sorrow do to us. Maybe I seek out comedy because I love that joy and that light. 

Can you imagine what it would be like to be a comic who never got a laugh? (I’ve heard some preachers like this…) I mean, every comedian has a story or ten about bombing a show, but over a career, you can’t bomb all the time, or you wouldn’t get the gig. At some point, the comic learns how to break in and help people find that joy that is longing to erupt. 

John was preaching about a light that would go unrecognized. A true light was coming into the world… a world that He made… and yet the world didn’t recognize Him. 

The world sat in laughter-less darkness and didn’t see the light that was trying to break in around them. 

Not much has changed. 

Why are we so addicted to our sullenness? If we aren’t outright addicted to the darkness, we at least prefer to sit in the twilight and never the light. John (the apostle) wrote later in his Gospel that people preferred the darkness to the light! Preferred it! 

May I make a strange confession? There’s another reason that I love stand-up comedy… it feels like worship to me. Laughing until my sides hurt brings light into my life and that light focuses my heart on God. 

I have to think that as the supernatural light pierced the physical darkness some 2,000 years ago, God laughed. (Lord knows, I would have laughed if I had been in that angelic choir scaring the life out of the shepherds.) God must have laughed because he was doing something clever. Something covert, that would turn the world on its head. 

Even if the world would take a while to see it.