The Zen of Laughter
sermon delivered by Alan Taylor
February 6^th, 2000
at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Woodinville

The main philosophical problem was to establish whether this mysterious thing called "Humor" really had objective existence or whether it existed only in the imagination. Those who believed it really existed were called Pro-Humorists...The Pro-Humorists were roughly of three sorts; the RATIONAL Pro-Humorists, who claimed that the existence of Humor could be established by pure reason; the FAITH-Humorists, who believed that reason could be somewhat helpful but that an act of faith was crucial; and finally there were the "Mystic Humorists" who claimed that neither reason nor faith were of the slightest help in apprehending Humor; the only reliable way it could be known was by direct perception. The Mystic Humorists were also known as LAUGHERS.

[The Mystic Humorists would be asked questions such as] With which of the five senses do you perceive humor. "No, it is not any one of these five senses. It is a nonphysical sense; we call this sense the 'sense of humor.' You mean it is something occult like telepathy or clairvoyance? In vain the Humor-Mystics protested that there was nothing the least bit occult about humor--indeed the idea that humor was something occult struck them as downright "funny." They laughed and said "If it will help you at all, the very statement that humor is something occult is typical of the type of statement which we label 'humorous'.

Faith-Humorists came to monasteries to sit at the feet of the Laugh-Masters in order to learn the holy art of Laughter. Here are words from one of them:

Let me now tell you what are some of the errors you make:

1. Some of you take an approach which is far too objective and scientific. You read all the literature you can find on the philosophy of humor. You perform elaborate linguistic analyses of what the word "humor" could possibly mean. You keep looking for better and better definitions. In other words, you are trying to define the word "humor" in terms of other words whose meaning you already know. But this is utterly impossible! The word "humor" is simply NOT definable in terms you already understand. The only way you will ever find out what the word "humor ;really means is by acquiring a sense of humor. And for this, science and logic cannot help you in the least.

2. The next wrong notion from which so many of you suffer is that the sense of humor is achieved via MORALITY. You have been taught that if you lead a GOOD life then you will be rewarded by acquiring this sense of humor. But this is totally off the track! We are not against morality but we absolutely insist that it has nothing to do with the quest for humor.

3. Closely related to this is the absolutely ghastly idea some of you have been told that humor can come to you only through all sorts of gruesome ascetic practices. And so you starve yourselves, become sexually abstinent, flagellate and otherwise mutilate your bodies hoping that the intense pain you suffer will bear the fruit of humor. But it never does, and no wonder! The more you pain yourselves the more impossible it is to enjoy humor. There is one minor exception to this; there is a thing we call "bitter humor," and this does arise in response to painful situations. But this type of humor is comparatively rare and moreover is almost impossible to learn before learning the more normal joyful humor. Yes, humor is sometimes really joyful, and it cannot possibly flourish in the morbid atmosphere of asceticism.

4. The most insidious error of all is to try to learn humor by merely IMITATING THE OUTWARD FORMS OF THE LAUGHERS! You listen most attentively to the sound of our laughter, and then you try to make the same sounds yourself. Some of you are quite good at this acoustical imitation, but you cannot fool us! You ask us to "correct" your laughter. You ask us "Is the pitch wrong? Is it a question of wrong timing? What is it about our laughter which is wrong?" You seem disappointed that we make no effort to answer this sort of question.

The methods of instruction used by the Laugh-Masters varied considerably. There was one famous Laugh-Master, Bankoff, who rejected all orthodox methods and indeed claimed to have no method whatever. (like the famous 17th century Zen-Master Bankei of this planet) It was not so much his WORDS that enlightened people but his actions. He would act in very strange manners. Sometimes during a serious "laugh sermon" he would suddenly, for no apparent reason, do a series of somersaults, and of the thousands of listeners, one or two would burst out into laughter for the first time in their lives. They would say: "Oh, so NOW we see what Humor really is. By God, those somersaults have taught us more than all the books we have read on the philosophy of laughter."

The hardest assignment I was given while I was in seminary was being asked to meditate for at least 10 minutes each day for the duration of the four and a half month class. It was the only assignment I outright failed. The course was called Spiritual Ground for World Engagement, taught by Joanna Macy, an American Buddhist and social activist. She urged us to start at 10 minutes, within two weeks we were expected to meditate 20 minutes a day, and another two weeks we were supposed to be meditating a half hour each day. Doesn’t sound that difficult, huh? There was always too much reading or writing, too many other things to do. Even though there was reading and writing for her class, Joanna stressed that the meditation was the most important assignment. I was lucky to get myself to meditate twice a week, let alone every day. And so I left Starr King, feeling like a complete failure when it came to spiritual practice.

If that were the end of the story, I wouldn’t be giving this sermon, nor would I be teaching a course on Zen Buddhism that began this afternoon. So where did I really learn about meditation, that is, when did I practice meditation on a consistent basis? It was in Worcester, ironically at a church that has a Christian liturgy, including saying the Lord’s Prayer each Sunday. As a Unitarian Universalist church, First Unitarian gets labeled as conservative and is known for its relative formality. It was also where I did my internship. It just so happened that the vice moderator of the Prudential Board (for us that is the vice president of the governing board) who interviewed me in California is not only a Zen Buddhist, but also a teacher of that spiritual practice. He told me that a requirement for the internship would be developing a daily spiritual practice, and that he personally recommended Zen meditation. The Worcester church turned out to be the most spiritually diverse congregation I have been involved with, and one where many people take spiritual practice to heart; for example, 30 people show up to the weekly evening meditation, and their minister, my mentor, wakes up at 3:30 every morning for two and a half hours of daily spiritual practice. Ever since August 1998, I have sat for thirty minutes every morning, barring out of town vacation and illness. And quite frankly, I don’t think I would be capable of doing ministry without such a spiritual practice.

Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Zen monk, says that Zen is "touching peace." In his words, Our true home is in the present moment. To live in the present moment is a miracle. The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green Earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now. Peace is all around us—in the world and in nature—and within us—in our bodies and our spirits. Once we learn to touch this peace, we will be healed and transformed. It is not a matter of faith; it is a matter of practice. We need only to find ways to bring our body and mind back to the present moment so we can touch what is refreshing, healing, and wondrous.

T.P. Kasulis, a philosophy professor from the University of Hawaii went to Japan to study Zen. He tells of a conversation with the Zen Master of his temple, beginning with the words of the Zen teacher: "You have asked permission to practice Zen meditation in this temple, but tell me: What is Zen?" After some hesitation and embarrassed smiling, I said something about Zen’s being a way of life rather than a set of dogmas. Laughter filled the tatami-matted reception room. "Everyone comes here to study Zen, but none of them knows what Zen is. Zen is—knowing thyself. You are a Western philosopher and you know of Socrates’ quest. Did you assume Zen would be something different?"

Alan Watts, one of the first Americans to popularize the practice of Zen, widened his scope of spiritual practice. He encouraged people to practice laughing meditation. He urged people to set aside five or ten or fifteen minutes every day and simply laugh, and laugh from the belly. The aim of this practice is to lighten one’s heart, to aid the practitioner in letting go of the seriousness that is so often given to one’s own concerns. Of course, the form of laughter Watts advocated was only one form of laughter. People laugh for a variety of reasons. For many of us, laughing is a form of release, akin to crying. It is common to laugh when we are uncomfortable, in an unconscious attempt to defuse a situation where we are ill at ease. And there are plenty of examples of derisive, mocking laughter, laughing out of scorn or hatred. And we all know each of these types of laughter.

Sometimes I think that defining laughter may be as difficult as defining Zen. So I went to my dictionary. "Laughter: a sound of or as if of laughing." Not very helpful, so I looked up the verb form of "laugh." "1 to show mirth, joy, or scorn with a smile and chuckle or explosive sound; to find amusement or pleasure in something; to become amused or derisive. 2 to produce the sound or appearance of laughter; to be a kind that inspires joy." Its that last definition that caught me off guard—to be a kind that inspires joy. Heck that’s what I want to be—a kind that inspires joy!

The Sufi poet Hafiz wrote a poem that offers an interesting perspective. It is called, "To Build a Swing."

How does one turn one’s existence into joy? How does one become a laugher, to be of a kind that inspires joy? The answer is simple, according the Zen masters: attention. And so the question becomes, how do we cultivate attentiveness in our lives? That takes practice, hard work, something that is far more difficult than what it sounds like when uttering the phrase—spiritual practice.

You cannot build a swing without hammers and rope. You cannot deepen in relationship with either your family or your church without giving them of yourselves. You cannot learn how to play a musical instrument without consistent practice. You cannot speak a foreign language without considerable hard work. You cannot raise well-behaved children without setting consistent limits. You cannot build a swing without a seat and the tools to connect that seat.

Spiritual practice requires something that is often taboo to speak of in Unitarian Universalist circles: discipline. Without consistent practice, one cannot deepen in the spiritual path. The word discipline has to do with being a disciple, or to be diligent towards something. In a culture that promotes convenience and indulgence, it takes a clear intention to focus oneself on where your heart is calling you.

Linda Sherry shared with me the Seabeck Retreat of this past September. The central question raised during the weekend was: How can we have a light heart while being politically correct? In other words, as we seek to fulfill all our duties and responsibilities as human beings, parents, engaged citizens, church members, and people concerned with justice, equity, and compassion, where is there time for lightheartedness!?! A number of times, I have heard the phrase, "We need to have more fun at this church!" In the context of the Seabeck conversation, I am hearing loud and clear that members here want their church to be in part a refuge from the overwhelming responsibilities of your lives.

The Board took that sentiment to heart over the last few months. Last fall, they discussed about how they could put the fun into fundraiser. And they decided to try something they never had done before—to throw a mystery party. Well, it took a lot of planning, a lot of people behind the scenes, a lot of time setting up, coordinating food, and putting together a script. For those of us who simply showed up in costume, the evening looked flawless. I was especially impressed with the members of the Board. I was aware of the work they did to put on the evening, but during the party itself, they were dressed as elegant wait-staff and graciously put on a party, without being the stars of the show. Indeed, it was hard not to forget about them, when members of our congregation were hamming it up, making even me wonder how Chick managed to pull off being a swaggering letch or Beth pulling off the role of a conniving brat! All of the cast pulled off a fabulous show that culminated in a pagan ritual that had everyone howling. And it was fun for your minister to come as a scheming, shifty thug. I don’t think I have laughed so much with members of the church, as I did that evening.

It takes effort and attention and creativity to develop such an evening. Indeed, it took the planning and structure and considerable attention by several people who remained behind the scenes to pull it off so effectively. Those same characteristics are what make for spiritual practice. Many of you have commented on my services as having a shape and structure that allows for deepening and reflection. I am aware that my style is relatively formal compared to the leadership you have had in the past. I have appreciated the good-natured responses. My third or fourth week here, I was sitting down during the potluck, when someone who didn’t recognize me from the back asked those around her, "So, who’s the geek in the suit?" Though I don’t know who shared that comment, at least a dozen of you have shared it with me!

I also get comments about my robe. One adjective used stands out, "dreadful." Actually that person was referring more to the color than the robe itself. I agree that it is a formal robe. If I had gone out and bought it myself, I might not feel so strongly about wearing it. This robe, as I told many of you when I candidated here nine months ago, was given to me after I had worked with a congregation for nine months. When I put it on, I am reminded of the devotion, the work, the meaning that comes with serving a congregation. For me, it is a ritual, to don the garb that not only marks me as a minister but also was given to me by a congregation who saw me grow from a student into a minister.

At the last worship committee meeting, we had a good conversation. It was the first time that I and members said up front that we are both as of yet adapting to each others’ styles. There is no right way or wrong way of doing worship. However, our styles and expectations vary—indeed the expectations among the members here vary a great deal. I don’t mind if you think I am stodgy. I don’t mind if you disagree with what I say from the pulpit. I don’t even mind if you think my robe is dreadful or that I look like a geek in a suit.

The experience of the Sunday service has been incomplete for me, and I am wondering if it has been incomplete for you. I am left wanting to have met the congregation. I want the opportunity to greet you. So I ask you, if you will, to begin a tradition. When the service is over, those of you who are willing and wanting to greet me, come to the center aisle. I will be in front of the piano. This opportunity for you and I to greet one another, albeit briefly, will allow for a deepening of relationship with you. It makes a difference, that small opportunity to say hello or just take a second to share a greeting, a smile, or a hug. This greeting line gives new people an easy way of meeting me. It is a great good time to let me know if you want or need to speak soon with me. And finally, it allows me to connect with you.

Sunday worship is a form of spiritual practice. Each week you must make the time to be here, and I hope that attending regularly gives you the opportunity to deepen. For me, too, the crafting of worship is a spiritual practice. This week as you reflect on the Zen of laughter, reflect on how and where you have structured your life to practice paying attention. For that is what Zen is. May each of us make of our lives a container in which we can grow such that we can be a kind that inspires joy. May your practice bring more laughter into your life.

You carry all the ingredients to turn your life into a nightmare. Don’t mix them!

You carry all the ingredients to turn your existence into joy. Mix them. Mix them!

Blessed be.

Amen.