Comedy is serious business. That may sound like an oxymoron, but hear me out: laughter is a potent weapon. It has the power to make scary things less frightening, to dispel a dark mood, and even to convey empathy and understanding. In times like these, we need it more than ever.
On one level, we need laughter for its physiological benefits. Laughter reduces stress and gives our abdominal muscles a good workout. A good belly laugh is worthwhile in and of itself, if only for the cardiovascular exercise. For this reason alone, it’s worth it to keep handy a stash of things that make you laugh. Note this, however: cynical laughter doesn’t produce the same benefits as genuine laughter. Think about it: can you really get more than a small chortle from cynicism? It may be a good emotional release, but it won’t help you out physically. That brings me to emotional release. Much good comedy rests on the ability to tell the emotional truth about a situation. If you’re in a dark mood and can find a way of laughing at your angst, you’re doing two great things: you’re acknowledging the angst and defanging it at the same time. By saying to yourself something along the lines of, “Wow, I’m moodier than a teenager going through their first break-up,” you’re both being honest about how you feel and how, perhaps, you don’t need to get quite so worked up. If you’ve ever wondered why so many great comedians have turned out to be secret sufferers of serious depression (rest in peace, Robin Williams), it’s likely because they got into it to combat their symptoms. The ability to laugh and to make others laugh is a wonderful dose of pleasure to counteract what can be a very painful existence. This is risky business because of the subtle difference between making people laugh with you vs. at you (the latter is very taxing), but it makes sense that some of the greatest practitioners of the craft have suffered the most. One of my favorite forms of comedy lampoons the everyday absurdities of life. If he hadn’t been so serious when he said it, the president’s comment last week about using disinfecting cleaning chemicals to get rid of the virus would have been hilarious. It is, after all, kind of darkly funny that the chemicals we use to disinfect surfaces—thus keeping us safe—would kill us if we drank them. While there are lines not to be crossed—never make a coronavirus joke at a funeral of someone who died from it—but finding these absurdities and appreciating them can make a bad situation more bearable. For example, wartime violence is legitimately terrible, but some great comedy has been made about it. Charlie Chaplain’s mocking depiction of Hitler is still pretty good stuff. All four of the major German officer roles in Hogan’s Heroes are played by Jews, some of whom lost family members in the Holocaust, and the actor who plays the French prisoner LeBeau had actually lived in a concentration camp for three years and had the tattoo to prove it. They all took on the project to have the last laugh over their oppressors. Mel Brooks. . . went way farther with that sort of thing than anyone else could ever get away with. It does not trivialize a situation to find the humor in it, just as a playful pattern on a homemade cloth mask doesn’t dilute its usefulness. In both cases, it helps with morale. With all of our social gatherings missing, morale is something we desperately need. So, do yourself a favor and find something to laugh at! Even if it’s yourself. (Especially if it’s yourself.) You need it.
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AuthorJillian Lutes is the youth pastor at West Covina Hills Seventh-day Adventist Church. Archives
May 2020
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