Proverbs 14:13 says, “Even in laughter the heart may ache, and the end of joy may be grief.” Sometimes things aren’t as emotionally cut and dried as they would seem. And it is a great truth that often when circumstances dictate we need self-control the most, composure eludes us.
Last week, millions of Americans memorialized Mary Tyler Moore on social media, recounting the reasons we loved her. “Chuckles Bites the Dust,” a classic episode from the “Mary Tyler Moore Show,” ranked in the top 100 TV episodes of all time, was re-posted countless times. You may have seen it: Producer Mary Richards repeatedly scolds co-workers from the WJN newsroom for relentlessly joking about how colleague Chuckles the Clown, has died—dressed as Peter Peanut, he was attacked by a rogue elephant, who attempted to “shell him.”
At the funeral, Mary finally shames her colleagues into a semblance of decorum—only to be humiliated as she herself unsuccessfully suppresses laughter throughout the eulogy. The minister, sympathetic to her plight, encourages her to laugh freely, as an homage to the entertainer's body of work. He invokes Chuckles' motto: “A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants…” Released from her predicament, Mary promptly dissolves into uncontrollable weeping. Some days, in the pursuit of dignity, you just can’t win.
Yesterday’s sermon was about the importance of grieving with the heartbroken—a timely topic, given the week’s loss of Moore, and the internet's preoccupation with the existential issues surrounding mourning Chuckles appropriately. The worship leader queued up a list of venerable hits to underscore the minister’s topic. “Sing to Me of Heaven,” “To Canaan’s Land I’m on My Way,” “I Will Rise,” and the ever-popular “No Tears in Heaven.”
I was appropriately engaged; that is, until I cast my eyes heavenward to find the lyrics to “God’s Family” on the screen. My husband Dan has a twisted gift—a compulsion, really—for corrupting song lyrics. The congregation sang in solidarity:
...And sometimes we laugh together
Sometimes we cry
Sometimes we share together
Heartaches and sighs...
In my head forever, however, is the Revised Daniel Version, somehow more apropos to a sermon on potluck fellowship than grief:
...And sometimes we laugh together
Sometimes we cry
Sometimes we share together
Drumsticks and thighs…
Mortified, I bit my lip, much as Mary Richards had done, as the congregation pondered how blessed those who mourn actually are. I was only marginally successful. Had the song leader made eye contact, he would have seen a face frozen in a crazed, tight smile—my attempt to stave off an outright guffaw, which might not have been well-received by the elderly couple seated in front of us. It was exhausting. And annoying. Once you’ve heard it, however, you can never unhear it.
So Chuckles 2.0 has permanently ruined “God’s Family,” among other hymns, for me. But he does make me laugh, and if the price I pay is being sidelined from singing “God’s Family” occasionally, I suspect God will not judge me harshly for it.
Perhaps dignity is overrated, anyway. After all, it was God's own man in Ecclesiastes who wrote,
“A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance
...a little seltzer down your pants…”
Or something like that.
