Reading: by Harvey Cox from The Feast of Fools (p. 1)
During the medieval era there flourished in parts of Europe a holiday known as the Feast of Fools. On that colorful occasion… even ordinarily pious priests and serious townsfolk donned bawdy masks, sang outrageous ditties, and generally kept the whole world awake with revelry and satire. Minor clerics painted their faces, strutted about in the robes of their superiors, and mocked the stately rituals of church and court… During the Feast of Fools, no custom or convention was immune to ridicule and even the highest personages of the realm could expect to be lampooned.
The Feast of Fools was never popular with the higher-ups. It was constantly condemned and criticized. But despite the efforts of fidgety ecclesiastics and an outright condemnation by the Council of Basel in 1431, the Feast of Fools survived until the sixteenth century. Then in the age of Reformation and Counter-Reformation it gradually died out.
Reading: by Wes Nisker from Crazy Wisdom (p. 36)
The holy fools arise from the spiritual subcultures, the esoteric and mystical underground of the world’s great religious traditions. They know a different reality than the rest of us and live every moment in accordance with their understanding, no matter what the cost. They are divine madmen. Among the better known are Lao Tzu, Buddha, and Christ – all challengers of conventional truth, all masters.
Although today it may seem inappropriate to label these holy men “fools,” they were probably called that in their own time. Certainly more people thought them foolish than wise.
Reading: from the Sufi tradition, a story about the learned Mulla Nasrudin, who was considered both wise man and fool. (Crazy Wisdom, p. 32)
When Nasrudin was asked to speak to the congregation at the mosque, he went up to the front and asked, “Oh people, do you know what I have come to tell you?” The crowd answered, “No.” Nasrudin then said, “If you don’t know what I have come to tell you, then you are too ignorant to understand what I was going to say.” And he left the mosque. But the people knew he had great wisdom, so they invited him back the next week. This time when Nasrudin asked the congregation if they knew what he was going to tell them, the crowd answered, “Yes.” “Fine,” said Nasrudin, “then I don’t need to waste your time.” And once again he left the mosque. But once again the people invited him back, thinking the next time they could convince him to talk. When he arrived on the following week, Nasrudin again asked the congregation if they knew what he was going to tell them. This time, half of the people answered back “Yes,” and half of them answered back “No.” “Fine,” said Nasrudin, “then those who know should tell those who don’t know, and I will be on my way.”
A Foolish Faith
A Sermon Delivered on April 1, 2012
By
The Reverend Axel H. Gehrmann
Back when I was in seminary, in the 1980s, at Starr King School in Berkeley, CA, I was one of the few students who approached ministry as a first carrier, charting a straight path from high school, through college, to theological school. Most of my fellow students were older, and had already tried their hand in some line of work or another, maybe as teacher or lawyer, as scientist or social worker. They had realized that these jobs were not actually for them, but that their true calling was to be a UU minister. Nevertheless, the professions they had each already practiced continued to shape the kind of skills they brought to their unique ministries. So the student body was a colorful crowd.
One of the more colorful among them was a woman named Kay Jorgenson. Before she decided to become a Unitarian Universalist minster she had been a clown. And her clownish nature was apparent in much of what she contributed at school – often dressed in clownish costumes, and working with colorful props, she brought a circus atmosphere to otherwise conventional classes and gatherings. Before entering seminary, she had spent a years doing street theater.
Whereas most of my fellow students seemed to inch closer and closer toward a more conventional pastoral persona in the course of their studies – you know, thoughtful, soft-spoken, low-key – Kay’s clown persona always seemed pretty apparent to me, peeking out in her mannerisms, or in a light-hearted or silly gesture that always seemed to come easily to her, bringing some levity to conversations that were in danger of becoming bogged-down.
I appreciated her distinct approach, and how, in playing the fool, she was able to sometimes relax situations that seemed too tense, or how she was able to gently poke fun at herself and others, showing how we were perhaps taking ourselves a bit too seriously.
But quietly I wondered how she would do in a parish setting. Most UU churches, even in California, expect a more straight-laced kind of preacher in their pulpits. You know, clerical robes with tasteful stoles, or dark suits and ties .
* * *
Today is April 1st, April Fool’s Day. It’s a good day to be mindful of the ways someone or other may be playing a trick on us, a prank that may surprise us or embarrass us. Or we may be making a fool of ourselves.
Some historians say today’s April Fool’s observances can be traced back to the medieval customs surrounding the Feast of Fools. This can serve as a reminder that there is more to this day than simply pulling a few pranks. There is a religious dimension to playing the fool. This is the point Harvey Cox makes.
The Feast of Fools allowed us to imagine, at least once in a while, a wholly different kind of world – a world in which “the last were first, accepted values were inverted, fools became kings...” It showed that a culture could periodically poke fun at itself, even its most sacred and royal practices.
The fact that the custom died out – or that it has been reduced to pranks and punch lines - is a real loss to Western society.
Somewhere in the course of the last few centuries, Harvey Cox tells us, we have been taught to divide the world in to two separate spheres: the world of fact and the world of fantasy. “As the true heirs of our Puritan forebears, we [were] taught to turn our backs on the world of fantasy… to diligently labor in the world of facts.”
Today we draw a solid line between fact and fantasy. And we allow the term “reality” to be applied only to the former, the world of facts. And yet, as Cox points out,
““reality” is hardly a clear and distinct idea. What is “reality” for one society is illusion for another. “Reality” is not a fixed or changeless category. It is what a particular culture decides it will be. Thus, in some [eastern] cultures, much of what we call the “factual world” is viewed as unreal, at the same time some societies find reality in the dreams, visions, and fantasies that we mark down as illusory. There is no final arbiter of what is “really real.” Science is not designed to demonstrate what is real, but to investigate that portion of reality for which its methods are appropriate.
Our present Western definition of reality is unfortunately a narrow one…” (p. 70)
The wise fool tries to blur the boundary between fact and fantasy – not in order to deceive us – but in order to broaden our understanding of reality. Too often we see only what we want to see.
The stories of Mulla Nasrudin provide many fine examples of just this. Once, for instance, Mulla Nasrudin is outside his house on his hands and knees below a street lantern when a friend walks up. “What are you doing, Mulla?” his friend asks. “I’m looking for my key. I’ve lost it.” So his friend gets down on his hands and knees too and they both search for a long time in the dirt beneath the lantern. Finding nothing, his friend finally turns to him and asked, “Where exactly did you lose it?” Nasrudin replies, “I lost it in the house, but there is more light out here.”
I also like the story, where one day Mulla Nasrudin is in his garden sprinkling bread crumbs around the flowerbeds. A neighbor comes by and asks, “Mulla, why are you doing that?” Nasrudin answers, “Oh, I do it to keep the tigers away.” The neighbor says, “But there aren’t any tigers within thousands of miles of here.” Nasrudin replies, “Effective, isn’t it?”
Nasrudin plays the fool, committing obvious blunders, in order to remind us of our own blunders, that are usually much less obvious to us. We are reminded the worldview we thoughtlessly take for granted is not the only way to see the world.
* * *
Wes Nisker makes the case that the world’s greatest religious figures were often considered fools by their peers. “In his own time, Jesus was considered a kook. He became a hero among the poor because he ministered to them and dared to challenge the authority of church and state, but respectable people probably saw him simply as a scruffy, wandering street person.”
As Wes Nisker sees it, Lao Tzu “was a crazy visionary poet who reputedly turned down good jobs with the king in order to live secluded in the mountains. In the important circles of court and city life they probably laughed when Lao Tzu’s name or ideas were mentioned.”
The Buddha set up communal dwellings in the woods and teach his followers to reject ordinary worldly pursuits and replace them with an odd-sounding doctrine called “the middle path.” Nisker says, “If the Buddha were alive and teaching today, any parents would certainly arrange to have their children kidnapped from his community and deprogrammed.”
* * *
There is something inherently foolish about the religious enterprise. It is foolish, because religious people believe in things that can’t be seen. Foolish, because we believe in gods and goddesses, who embody our highest ideals, our deepest fears, and the mysteries of existence. Foolish, because we believe in paradise or the possibility of a better world.
And with this possibility in mind, religious people challenge the world as it is. They say we can do better. We can break down the boundaries that divide us. We can see that we are all brothers and sisters, all members of one human family, every person worthy of compassion and respect.
As Harvey Cox sees it, the Feast of Fools wasn’t only about festivity and fantasy. It was also a significant form of social criticism. He says,
“the Feast of Fools had an implicitly radical dimension. It exposed the arbitrary quality of social rank and enabled people to see that things need not always be as they are… Unmasking the pretense of the powerful always makes their power seem less irresistible. That is why tyrants tremble before fools and dictators ban political cabarets… From the oppressors point of view satire can always get out of hand or give people ideas, so it is better not to have it at all.” (p.4)
* * *
There is a religious and a social dimension to the fool. The fool has a unique power to uncover connections, and overcome boundaries that too easily divide us.
My fellow Starr King graduate Kay Jorgensen knew this. This is why, rather than toning down her foolishness for a moderate congregational setting, she chose to carefully cultivate her understanding of the religious fool, putting it to work in the world, and inviting church members to leave the safety of their sanctuaries, and to join her in the streets.
In the late 1990s she co-founded an interfaith organization in San Francisco called “The Faithful Fools.” Building on her experience in street theater, she sought to serve people who live on the streets of San Francisco, particularly in the Tenderloin district, which is marked by a high concentration of homeless people, prostitution and poverty.
Kay and her colleagues use the word “faithful” in their name, because they find spiritual power in building relationships between the privileged and the poor. They use the word “fool” harkening back to the jester of medieval times, who was a truth teller in the king’s court, who lived at the edge of society, and who acquired the ability to cross the boundaries society creates. These are the ideas that provide the foundation for Kay’s work, for instance, when once, fully dressed in clown character, Kay led a procession of homeless men and women to San Francisco city hall to protest a ban on shopping carts on city streets.
The founding practice of Faithful Fools was a one-day Street Retreat in the Tenderloin. Since 1998 more than 3500 youth and adults have joined such retreats. They provide opportunity both for religious reflection and for participants to intentionally walk in places and relate to people of whom they are afraid, or are generally advised to stay away from.
The Faithful Fools describe it this way:
“Most people enter into the street retreat not knowing what they will encounter – but with a lot of apprehension about what it will be. From that place of not knowing, we ask people to allow themselves to discover what there is for them to know. This makes it possible for us to begin to “discover on the streets our common humanity”... Myths are shattered. Our own stories are revealed to us. We begin to see the light, courage, strength and creativity in the people we encounter.” (www.faithfulfools.org)
* * *
The fool teaches us to laugh at ourselves, to laugh at our limitations. Rather than approaching the trials and tribulations of our lives as weighty tragedies, we are sometimes better off lightening up.
Laughter can help us take a step back, and realize that sometimes our perspective is unduly narrow, sometimes our fears are unfounded. And sometimes even the world’s most serious problems need not be approached dead seriously.
Blurring the line dividing fact and fantasy wisely can free up our imagination, and provide the inspiration we need to envision a better world.
I would like to close with a final favorite story of Mulla Nasrudin:
When Nasrudin was an old man, he was sitting in a tea shop with friends, looking back on his life, telling his story. “When I was young I was fiery – I wanted to awaken everyone. I prayed to Allah to give me the strength to change the world.”
“In midlife I awoke one day and realized my life was half over and I had changed no one. So I prayed to Allah to give me the strength to change those close around me who so much needed it.”
“Alas, now I am old and my prayer is simpler. “Allah,” I ask, “please give me the strength to at least change myself.””
May we each be wise enough, or foolish enough,
To change the world beginning with ourselves.
Amen.
