Wisdom wrapped in humour

 Now and then I stumble on a gem of a book.  Recently it was Bernard Basset’s ‘We Neurotics’, first published in 1962 and recommended to me in the 70s by a psychiatrist friend as an all time classic.  Out of print, there are still second hand copies available for those wishing to track it down.

Long forgotten on my bookshelves, it pinged back into memory as I travelled alongside a close family member off work with stress.  With our greater understanding of the human mind half a century on, I expected it to be hopelessly out of date.

But as I turned those fragile old pages, I became lost in the wisdom and humour.  Written by a catholic priest of some considerable pastoral experience, it had emerged from a deep and humble relationship with God and a love for the  people he met each day.

What surprised me most was that it was pure entertainment.  Not frivolous or consciously trying to amuse.  Rather, nuggets of ancient truth shining radiantly through pure joy.  Hadn’t CS Lewis said, ‘Joy is the serious business of heaven’?  I found myself falling about with the fun of recognising human foibles and subterfuges known to all – not least to me.  The humour was like a sugar coated pill.  It made the hard hitting ancient truths much more palatable.

So the bird like, deaf nun can get away with saying to the stressed out lecturer: ’prayer is really no good at all in such a situation, indeed, in many cases it does positive harm.  Have a general intention of accepting God’s decisions but after that pretend you’re an atheist for a couple of weeks’! 

Enter the eccentric Miss Copley Smith, with complexion one shade lighter than her fawn coloured shoes – a figure of fun to the children.  The enormous madonna dominating her mantlepiece jostled with a Georgian decanter labelled ‘sherry’ which had to be sniffed to see whether it contained sherry, port or turps.  Underneath, she was pure gold, possibly even a saint in heavy disguise, dispensing precious wisdom alongside food that might contain metal filings or paint; fallout from hastily cleared away DIY projects performed on the kitchen table.

A couple of years ago I attended a retreat on ‘Laughter and the Presence of God’.  We had an epic time stripping away false facades of ‘holiness’ to discover what was really underneath. 

Donald Macleod said: ‘Laughter is one way to see happiness and hear it;  It’s the sound of joy.  It’s not joy’s only sound; there is joy in sorrow, in tears, underneath sobs, and in silence.  And there is laughter to cherish as a gift from God’. 

The lesson for me is not to take myself too seriously when writing – to get out of the way and allow God to be real – and to celebrate humour as a sign that he’s involved.

‘Joy is the most infallible sign of the presence of God’, Teilhard de Chardin.

Eileen Padmore has retired from a life spent in health care and academia, after work in Sierra Leone, Zambia, Eire and Northern Ireland (in the troubles) as well as inner city Birmingham and Leeds.  She has had articles published in Woman Alive, Christian Writer and contributed to the popular ACW Lent Book.  Last November she claimed NaNo 2018 winner at first attempt.  Married to a professional musician, the family includes a feisty springer spaniel and a large African tortoise.