When the community asked me to be a clown at one of our gatherings, I was ambivalent. Sure, I had proven to myself that I was a good clown. But this was Sojourners Community, which, for all its attributes, had always taken itself and life in general far too seriously.
Besides, these people knew me. They knew that I took life far too seriously, also. They knew the introverted Dan who was reluctant to express himself in groups of more than two. They didn't know my clown character, "Jacopo," the extroverted goofball who loved kids and was always ready to be the butt of a joke—or so I thought.
One factor would redeem the night, I figured. Surely the community children would help create a good atmosphere. They knew Jacopo and had really liked him in the past. I knew I could count on them as my ace in the hole.
Then even that hope was yanked out from under me. I was bringing home with me one of my props, a dog leash that looked as though I were walking an invisible dog. In front of one of our community houses, Peter Sabath and Micah Sparacio, both 5-year-olds, saw me. Peter's father, Bob, who was with them, smiled. "Hey, Peter and Micah, look at the dog," he said.
"There's no dog there," said Micah.
"Sure there is," said Bob. "Watch out or it'll bite you!" The "dog" started lunging at the three of them.
"There's no dog there!" insisted Micah, who proceeded to stick his hand through the empty muzzle on the end of the leash. Defiantly and victoriously, he marched into the house.
"Oh no!" I thought to myself. "This 5-year-old kid is already too adult to believe in invisible dogs. What will I do?" I was very worried now that the clown night would be a complete failure. I finally decided that since the results were totally out of my control, I would just be Jacopo and not worry about anything.
As I put on my face the night of the event, I began to relax a bit. When people apply whiteface, they are painting themselves with a symbol of death, just as shamans, medicine men and women, and witch doctors of all cultures have done throughout human history. The first step in becoming a clown is to die to oneself. Then, while applying colors to the face, the clown begins to rise to newness of life.
With my face and costume finally in place, I felt myself embodying every bit of Paul's message to the Corinthians: "We are fools for Christ's sake ... We have become, and are now, as the refuse of the world, the offscouring of all things" (1 Corinthians " 4:10, 13).
My job, as I saw it, was to take this vulnerable and foolish, despised and rejected clown character into the world and act as Christ's channel to transform it. "If any one is in Christ, they are a new creation; the old has passed away, and behold, the new has come" (2 Corinthians 5:17). Could I be used to create that kind of new creation tonight? The fresh memory of the dog leash incident and fear of the reaction of serious, serious Sojourners Community were very much with me, but I went ahead anyway.
Everyone was ready. Joanne Sparacio also was in clown character. Four stations had been set up for face-painting, and balloons were everywhere. As we ate supper together, Jacopo walked around the room with his clown camera taking pictures of everyone. Clown cameras, of course, have the capacity to develop pictures on the spot. Most everyone became a mule when Jacopo snapped the picture the first time, then they were transformed into angels as Jacopo recoiled in horror and tried again. After supper we adjourned upstairs for clown skits, story reading, and animal balloons.
Joanne helped Jacopo learn how to blow up a balloon. Poor Jacopo! Even though he followed directions exactly, he just couldn't do it. When told to put the balloon in his mouth, he stuffed the whole thing in. When corrected and told to put in only one end, he chose the wrong end. After about six or seven more corrections from various members of the community, Jacopo managed to inflate the balloon and tie it. He tied both ends of the balloon together beautifully, to the tune of a roomful of laughter.
After another skit and a story, Jacopo made animal balloons for those who wanted them.
One of the people who had the most fun was my little, unbelieving friend Micah. He loved being photographed with Jacopo's camera, was among the first to volunteer to be in the skits, and did not want to leave without a dog balloon.
The evening had been one of sheer fun, and we went home tired and happy. Jacopo and the community had done well together. I felt newly created, and I knew that my faith in God and in the humanity of my community had increased significantly. Praise God!
Dan Goering was a member of Sojourners Community and worked with Sojourners book service at the time this article appeared.
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