Send in the Clowns

Matthew 21:1-11

For three years the disciples had been following Jesus. Miracles were no longer a big deal. They had heard some of the stories so many times the disciples had started to write different endings. They were even getting a little bit cocky. Early on they wanted nothing to do with Jerusalem. It was a dangerous place too close to the center of the Jesus controversy. But now they were headed to the Holy City, not just for a visit, but the Passover. The disciples imagined things had calmed down. The truth is, the disciples never really understood what Jesus was all about. All that contact, all those sermons, all of the casual and not so casual hints and they still didn’t understand how the journey was going to end. Perhaps we should give ourselves a break when we read the gospels and scratch our heads in confusion and sometimes disbelief.

I am sure the disciples wanted to just slip in and out of Jerusalem, but that was not the plan. Jesus desired a parade. He wanted to enter Jerusalem on a donkey with children and admirers screaming at the top of their lungs. He wanted the religious elite to know he was coming. What better way to announce your intentions than to parade right down Main Street. What better way to kick off Holy Week than with floats, marching bands, celebrities and clowns.

Ok, so there were no marching bands, or floats, or any other celebrities but there sure were plenty of clowns. 

Remember when the circus used to come to town. I’m talking way back when Greatest Show on Earth would set up tents outside of town. Exotic animals in cages would be on display. The carnival hands would set up the Midway with games of chance and healthy delights such as cotton candy and funnel cake. Remember going inside the Big Tent and witnessing the fearless acrobats fly through the air. And should there be a lull in the show or worse, should something go wrong, the clowns would rush out and entertain us until things got back on track.

With all their bumbling and stumbling the clowns were basically comic relief. Those performers hardly do justice to great clowns we have witnessed through the years. Think of Caruso performing the title role of Pagliacci, the lover who paints his face to cover his shame. Think of Emmit Kelley, the clown who represented the plight of the impoverished in America. Think of Red Skeleton, who made us cry as often as he made us laugh. The classic clown is a tragic figure, playing the fool while exposing our deepest insecurities. John Prine sings, “A clown puts his makeup on upside down, so he wears a smile even when he wears a frown.”

What could be a better event than Palm Sunday to look for clowns?  We want to shout Hosanna with the children yet we know the tragedy of the cross is a few only days away. We want to elevate Jesus above everyone else. And yet too soon that elevation will represent something ghastly.  Jesus smiled as he entered the city, but I imagine it was little more than make-up. Peter, Andrew and John ran ahead of Jesus, lifting the hearts of children like any clown would do, knowing all along the foolishness of the situation. I suspect somewhere in the middle of this farce, they all got it. Eventually the reality of this morality play had to `set in.

Every Good Friday I imagine Peter standing at the foot of the cross looking up to Jesus and singing,   (Jane Sings)

Isn’t it rich? Aren’t we a pair? Me here at last on the ground, you in midair, send in the clowns.

Isn’t it bliss? Don’t you approve? One who keeps tearing around and one who can’t move. But where are the clowns? Send in the clowns.

Just when I stopped, opening doors; finally finding the one I wanted was yours, making my entrance again with my usual flair; Sure of my lines, Nobody’s there.

Don’t you love farce? My fault I fear. I thought you’d want what I want, sorry my dear. But where are the clowns? Send in the clowns? Don’t bother they’re here.

A few years ago Stephen Sondheim remarked if he could rewrite the song he would have titled it, “Send in the fools”.  He called it a song of regret verging on anger. In the play Desiree is singing to an old flame and asking, “How did we end up here?”

I can imagine Peter wondering the same thing. How did     he go from the exhilaration of a parade on Sunday, to total embarrassment when he denied Jesus, in the garden?  Deep inside he had to be saying, “I am such a fool.”

Or what about Judas? He joined the merry band, became disillusioned, betrayed Jesus and then realized he has been used by the very people he hated.

Take any of the disciples. What a bunch of clowns. One day they were entertainers, the next they were outlaws. Their association with Jesus had put their lives in jeopardy.

But perhaps the biggest clown was Jesus.  What was he thinking? He had done everything “by the book”. He had loved God with all his heart.  He had loved his neighbor and even his enemies. He had lived a sinless life and in the end what good did it do? I can imagine Pilate looking out toward Golgotha and thinking, “What a fool.”            (stop)

The Apostle Paul, reflecting on this moment, wrote, “Jesus humbled himself and became obedient to death.” We don’t commemorate the death of Jesus, because he was a hero, nor because he was divine. We commemorate this death because when everything else was falling apart, like any good clown, Jesus stepped forward to save the day. He put on the paint, and played the role of a clown.

I don’t pretend to fully understand Holy Week. My rational side tells me what we celebrate seems foolish. My spiritual side reminds me that we are called to be fools for Christ. Is it all just a farce? Or is it something even more outrageous. Is it an act of grace?

Isn’t it rich? Isn’t it queer?

Losing my timing this late in my career.

Where are the Clowns? Send in the Clowns!

Don’t bother, we’re here.