Clowning Around

I’ve never really liked clowns. Maybe it’s because they are freaky, with their white makeup and secret identities. Or maybe it’s because I am one of them. I’d love to be an acrobat, a trapeze artist, or maybe a tightrope walker. Someone who wows people and draws out their wonder. Sometimes I try too hard to be one of the big acts in the show. But I really am an awkward clown. Most people are.

Yesterday, I came across a book by Henri Nouwen called Clowning in Rome, where he recounts his time living in the Italian city. In a place never short of people of stature such as Bishops and Cardinals, for some reason, he drew inspiration from the people on the periphery. In the introduction, Nouwen writes:

"The clowns aren't the center of the events. They appear between the great acts, fumble and fall and make us smile again, following the tensions created by the heroes we came to admire. The clowns don't have it together... they are awkward, out of balance and left-handed, but...they are on our side. The clowns remind us with a tear and a smile that we are sharing the same human weakness. The longer I was in Rome, the more I enjoyed the clowns. The peripheral people who by their humble, saintly lives evoke a smile and awaken hope…"

I think culture has a fixation with the acrobats and the trapeze artists who wow us with their great prowess. Celebrity is all the rage, even in its inability to move us as profoundly as the simplest acts of love and compassion.

Think about the people who truly moved you on the most personal level. They weren’t the main show. They weren’t necessarily the high-profile mainstays – they probably weren’t. The moments I’ve felt most loved by anyone wasn’t in a big-time moment. It was in the margins, off-stage, or at home when someone showed genuine love, concern or compassion, oftentimes in the least favorable situations. And I want to affect people that way, too.

Now, my emphasis on clowns isn’t meant to condone our screw-ups and misgivings. By all means, try to rectify mistakes and work on your flaws. Aspire and dream to be the best you can be. But remember that it’s alright to be the side show, and not the main thing. It’s alright to not have to wow people with our magnificence. That’s God’s job. Humility and sainthood have everything to do with accepting who we really are in Christ. Yes, we are conquerors and victors – but because of Him, and not us.

Most of us will never be the perfect acrobats. We will always be the imperfect clowns. And that’s perfectly alright.



"We hold this treasure in earthen vessels to show that this power is from God and not from us." 2 Corinthians 4:7