I was bowled over by what I saw at the workshop I attended. I thought it was fantastic how the music engaged the kids and got them talking, instead of just learning passages of scripture off by heart. It struck me as a great way of communicating a message. As to the role played by the clown, I saw how clowning could be used to help children and adults enter more deeply into an experience of the mystery of God. For some reason, Monica thought I would make a good clown, to which I replied, “Oh, I’d never do that!” But she persisted and the following year, I decided to give it a go.
A Loreto nun and I bought some face paint and clown outfits from the joke shop, went into the Loreto convent on Stephen’s Green, put on all the make-up and gear, and then headed out with the intention of heading down Grafton Street. We never got that far, because for the next two hours, we were surrounded by adults and kids. It was brilliant. Encouraged and convinced by this reaction, I started working with Monica on workshops for children and adults.
Generally speaking, a clown is seen as an entertainer, a fool who does silly things and makes people laugh, but if people understand a clown only to be silly, then to meet a clown in ritual and worship could seem an act of disrespect for what is sacred. The true clown is not acting or pretending but, on the contrary, is genuinely in touch with the sacred essence of her being and is open to the grace of God. The clown can lead us from our heads to our hearts; sensitise us to the imaginative, intuitive and symbolic language of our souls. The clown, by her simplicity, openness and vulnerability can, without a word, highlight what is most sacred in our prayer and worship.
At our workshops in schools, Monica sings her songs and narrates Gospel stories, which I mime to. With children, I play the part of ‘Bubbles’. Bubbles is a very playful character who gets mixed up and gets everything wrong. When I’m in that role, I cast my memory back to the time when I was three or four years of age. I remember how I used to look at things and that child’s eye view informs my interaction with children. Monica asks the children questions like, “Who is God for you?” and “What does God know about you?” They shout back answers to Monica and encouragement to me.
The one thing kids all around the world ask is “Can you talk?” They feel sorry for me that I can’t talk. Recently, on little one came over to me and whispered in my ear, “but you can talk when you go home, can’t you?”
When I work with adults in evening events, I adopt a different clown persona, that of Naofa. The idea is that in this role, I embody tenderness, compassion and understanding, communicating God’s presence through attentiveness and gestures. Naofa is centred on what is sacred in me. During these sessions, we have burning incense, candles and Monica’s spiritual music. Sometimes I perform rituals on the altar, anointing people’s foreheads with fragrant oils and washing the feet of the priest and other members of the congregation. In our presentation of the story from Mark’s Gospel of Jesus and the leper, the clown meets the leper, looks into his eyes and hugs him. As people from the margins of society, both the clown and the leper speak to what is vulnerable and marginalized in all of us.
By Hilary Musgrave RSC
