Tuesday, February 4, 2025
The role of court jester was tricky. Not only did he provide His Majesty with entertainment, but had to deliver bad news. He had to tell His Majesty, in no uncertain terms, that the King himself might be making a foolish decision or that his authority had been undermined. No-one else on the court had the courage to stand up to His Majesty. The court jester had to do his best not insult the dignity of His Royal Highness.
John Mason wrote a beautiful hymn whose first line states, “How shall I sing that Majesty which angels do admire?” What a great question. I wonder another question, however. “How shall I complain about that Majesty which allows suffering, despair, and death?” Yes, to praise one must also duly note that we can criticize the author.
It’s hard to praise His Highness when we must also condemn His Heinous-ness. That’s right. The two coincide. How can there be a Judge Eternal without a crime? Am I a criminal? I didn’t choose this life, so how can I be one? If we look closer, The Emperor has no clothes. Who is to inform him of his evil ways and his deception? How shall I sing that Majesty? The word “jest” is right there in the middle. If I weren’t wiser, I would have missed it.
A jest is a joke, a gag, an illusion. Are we pretending to worship a king? Is he for real? His authority seems undermined and his kingdom seems flawed. He seems to think he’s perfect, but I’ve seen some trouble! The Emperor has no clothes and is hiding in plain sight. How shall I sing that Majesty? Probably with a grain of salt and a wink and a nod. We can see his penis. Don’t point and laugh, though. Try to be impressed.