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It won’t be a surprise if you see werewolves, vampires, and mummies on the hunt for Hershey’s bars in your neighborhood this evening.
You might also see that most recent addition to the pantheon of scary Halloween monsters: the demented clown.
How in the world did a figure of fun become an embodiment of evil?
By the middle of the last century, clowns had migrated from their original stomping grounds of fairs, circuses, and theaters to mainstream American culture. Silly but lovable Bozo became a smash hit during the earliest days of children’s television. Ronald McDonald (no relation) arrived on the scene in the early 1960s, beckoning kids to Happy Meals at the golden arches.
For most kids and their parents, clowns were wholesome and approachable sources of mirth.
That’s why Stephen King’s 1986 bestseller It is so horrifying. The novel introduces Pennywise, the malevolent clown who preys on young children. The feature film Poltergeist (1982) likewise generated a new wave of kid’s bedroom phobias when a demon possesses a child’s clown toy.
How did clowns become the bad guys?
To be honest, not every child has enjoyed sitting on Santa Claus’ lap at the department store, nor savored the over-the-top theatrics of the typical birthday party clown. Distorted features – perhaps a white face with garish red lips – are part of traditional clown makeup, calculated to generate smiles. But those same features can be unsettling.
When law enforcement officials revealed that serial killer John Wayne Gacy had performed as Pogo the Clown to generate trust and gain access to families in his community, the notion of the “killer clown” became firmly planted in the public imagination.
Clowns were increasingly associated with hidden motives. There are many kinds of horror. The corruption of innocence is surely one of the worst.
Meanwhile, there are a multitude of reasons to rethink the place of clowns in our lives.
Clowns Without Borders sends professional entertainers to refugee camps all over the world – places where children haven’t had reasons to smile for a very long time. “Clown doctors” regularly bring joy and comfort to children’s hospitals, helping young patients and their families face the fear and uncertainty of difficult circumstances.
Historically, one of the purposes of clowning as an art form is to bring healing.
Studies have shown that skilled clowns, by modeling vulnerability and humor – falling down and getting back up in a variety of entertaining ways – are unusually effective at sending a crucial message to those who are suffering: “You can get through this, too.”
Long before 19th century circus clowns began to major in slapstick (which is the only way most of us have experienced clowns), professional “fools” of the Middle Ages, Renaissance, and Reformation saw themselves as inspiring resilience in the face of pain.
Clowns and fools used exaggerated means to display human folly. Their antics declared, “All of us are fragile and flawed. But life isn’t over when we fail. We can find joy even in our imperfections.”
But the history of clowning goes deeper still, as embodied in the notion of the “wise fool.”
In most ages, it’s been a very bad idea to approach an authoritarian leader and announce what everyone else might be thinking: “You’re making a royal mess of things.” That might be grounds for losing your job or losing your head.
A skilled clown, however, could pull that off. By telling the truth “slant” – perhaps through a story, a parody, or a silly skit – the wise fool could deliver biting social critique under the guise of “just horsing around.”
How do you call out a king or a general whose pretensions deserve to be mocked? Make him laugh.
That brings us to one of the apostle Paul’s most interesting statements.
No church gave him fits like the one in the Greek city of Corinth. Paul ranted and raged and pleaded and prayed with this gathering of baby Christians concerning a dozen or so controversial issues. In the end, he couldn’t get over the fact that they assumed they didn’t need him. They were doing just fine, thank you.
In I Corinthians 4:10, he finally unloads his frustration: “We are fools for Christ, but you are so wise in Christ! We are weak, but you are strong! You are honored, we are dishonored!”
Paul – the greatest theologian of the early church, with tongue firmly planted in cheek – declares himself to be a nothing but a fool.
But throughout Christian history, this verse has become a rallying point for teachers, preachers, and clowns (and yes, we are often one and the same).
Paul knew that the self-identified “smart people” among both Jews and Gentiles had written him off as a blithering idiot. God comes to earth and dies a criminal’s death, on a cross no less, leaving behind nothing but a motley crew of scared followers? How strange and how sad.
“That’s fine,” says Paul. “I’m more than willing to be called a fool – but one day you’ll realize that I’m the wise fool who is telling the whole world the truth they so desperately need to hear.”
A clown can be the bearer of very good news, indeed.
Just the same, if you see Pennywise this evening, it may be the better part of wisdom to turn off your porch light.