Scripture:
I have a confession to make: I am not funny. Or rather, I guess a better way of saying it
is, I am not an entertainer. There is only
one person in my life that I know I can make laugh; with the right circumstance
and enough time to just enjoy each other, I can sometimes, God-willing, reduce
my mother to a fit of giggles. (But she might be biased). I think people might describe me as serious,
thoughtful, at times passionate, perhaps a worrywart. Comedic is not typically one of my
descriptors.
I also
have an anxious fear of – lets call it, ‘dead air.’ Dead air is that gamble that I might be
caught on stage, without a purpose, or a script, but in the spotlight. It’s not a fear of public speaking - I can
stand in front of a room of strangers any day and talk about an issue I’m passionate
about. Or preach on it. But then I like to get off the stage as
quickly as possible. (Those of you who
have been here when I’ve preached in the past know this by how quickly we get
through worship!) It’s more a fear of
‘vamping’ or having to make it up as I go along. I pity the party that asks me to M.C.
It was
with this in mind that I signed up for a Beginners class in Improv -
Improvisational Comedy. For years I had
heard about Improv. A former boss had
been really into it, and the more I asked around, the more people attested to
its power. At first, when people would encourage
me to try it, I thought to myself – kind of like Jeremiah in today’s reading - ‘no way, no how’. But there are Improv workshops offered for
corporate CEOs and inter-office team-building; there are some classes
specifically aimed at people who have no intention of ever performing. So there seemed to be something to it besides
entertaining.
Improvisational
Comedy is about constructing a scene out of nothing. And Improv has rules. And in each class, each rule was resonating
with me, speaking – no, preaching to me, if you will.
Rule 1 is called the “Yes, And…” This is the cardinal
rule of Improv - to say ‘yes’ to the scene, and then to build on it. It means accepting
the premise of what is handed to you, whenever it’s handed to you – and then
moving the scene forward. ‘Yes, And’
requires your active agreement to the situation. For instance, if I approached you and said, "How are you today, Doctor?", how would you answer? If you answered, "Good, and you?", you have 'Yes, And'-ed me. You have accepted the premise of the question and moved the scene forward.
On the other hand, in our Old Testament scripture today,
Jeremiah shows the opposite of ‘Yes, And.’
“I have known you and dedicated you, and now I appoint you the prophet
to the nations.” Immediately, Jeremiah
protests: ‘It can’t be me, God, for I am
only a boy and do not know how to speak.’ There are other stories of prophets running
from their task in the Bible – Jonah comes to mind, who ran to the belly of a
whale to avoid God’s calling. Luckily,
our scriptures tell us that God doesn’t take no for an answer.
The idea of ‘Call’ has been prevalent in my mind lately,
since I am on the verge of my Ecclesiastical Council – where I may be asked to
explain my call to ministry. I have been
pondering what it means for me to say ‘Yes, And’ to God. What is God calling me to be, and what is God
calling you to be, and how are you building on it? But I have also been
contemplating where else we are invited to accept the premise and build on
it. If the ‘yes’ part of the scenario
indicates our personal agreement – are we selective in what we agree to?
If your friend suggested planning a trip to Cambodia, would
you entertain the idea? What if your
partner suggested you purge all belongings and move into one of those ‘Tiny
Houses’? Or, when people give you a compliment – do you agree to it? There’s a scene in Pretty Woman when Julia
Roberts is explaining her course of life to Richard Gere’s character. He tells her that she has so much potential,
and she cringes and says, “The bad stuff is easier to believe.” Internal and
external criticism is often easer to believe in, than to build on our
gifts. But what would happen if you
accepted the premise and said “Yes, and” to every compliment you received? How could you build on them? In our passage, God reminds Jeremiah that he
has been known, and shaped, by the Divine long before being born. He shall not be afraid because God will put
the words in his mouth, and will deliver him from enemies. For God has known and shaped each one of us,
and made each of us sacred. That’s the
premise we must accept to build on.
Rule 2 is Don’t Deny.
This is critical to the cardinal rules of ‘Yes, And,’ because if you deny the premise of
the situation, you stop the energy coming towards you. It kills the scene and shuts out unknown opportunities
in life. In the synagogue that day, when
Jesus read the scrolls, those assembled were on the verge of believing. All
spoke well of him and were amazed at his gracious words. But they couldn’t understand how their
neighbor Joseph’s Son had so much authority, and they demanded proof. They
denied the power of what they were feeling, stopped the energy coming toward
them, and eventually chased him from the synagogue. Reverend Barbara Brown
Taylor says that sometimes denial can be like anesthesia; a course chosen to
avoid pain or danger, but resulting in numbness. Her biggest faith statement is,
Rule Three is about partnership. Your partner is the most important person to
you. Scenes in Improv are built on the
so-called ‘gifts’ you give each other in your dialogue. The scene only works if you trust each other
and work together, and you NEVER abandon your partner on-stage. It’s your job to Giv. Give clues, give details, give golden nuggets
of circumstance that your partner can respond to. It’s also your job to receive, and to
respond, and to pivot. You may jump on
stage with an idea in your head, but be handed something totally different when
your partner opens the scene. It’s your
job to take what is given to you and run with it. As Barbara Brown Taylor says; I you trust
what comes to you is meant for your – it’s not against you – you can take it
and run with it. It’s in these partnering exercises that you really get the
feel of improv, you start to sense the rhythm.
In one of my first
exercises, I was paired with a very creative partner who could have his own
stand-up routine alone – but was kind of leaving me in the dust. (Remember – I
am not funny). The instructor
stopped the scene with advice to slow down.
Create space for a relationship. Take the time to receive what’s being
given you. Allow yourself to dwell in
the situation together and build some trust.
That’s pretty good
advice: Slow Down. Create space for a
relationship. Take the time to receive what’s being given to you. Allow yourself to dwell in the situation
together and build some trust. These are all human reactions to the uncertainty
of the scene – my partner’s need to entertain, my desire to pretend to be
invisible. But he asked, why are we so
afraid to live into the uncertainty? We
followed his instructions and suddenly we were working together and painting a
vibrant picture of our imaginary lives.
And I figured out what Improv is probably supposed to feel like - I even
made the punch line!
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| Antoine McKay's newest Improv Troupe |
Improv has been coaching
me on the courage to live in uncertainty.
Improv has been teaching me about Jeremiah’s truth: that like him, we
are known and shaped and dedicated by God.
We may think we cannot speak – or act – or be funny – but if we allow
ourselves to trust in God, our God-given shape and consecration starts to show
through.
Our partner in this life
is God. We need to slow down and create space for a relationship. I know it’s difficult, but it’s important to
take the time to receive what’s been given to us, and to be grateful. But, most difficult of all may be allowing
ourselves to dwell in the uncertainty and rely on that trust. See where you can say, ‘Yes, And…’ to God.
