Penguin Tag

A couple of years ago I took an improvisational comedy course. Every Sunday evening from fall through to spring, our group gathered in a room with nothing in it but a few folding chairs, to conjure up skits from nothing.

We'd shuffle in the door still thinking about the outside world, sometimes with worries on our mind. Perched on folding chairs, making idle conversation until the teacher showed up, we were our regular, moderate selves.

But you can't make magic from moderation. The teacher's first priority in each class wasn't to impart information to us. It was to shake us free from our rational, linear selves. He wanted to rev up the crazy. He wasn't happy until he saw us being downright rambunctious, because that is when the comedy magic happened.

My favourite of all our warm-up exercises was Penguin Tag. It's exactly like regular tag, except for one additional rule: your knees must remain touching each other at all times. He wouldn't warn us in advance which warm-up was coming. He'd get us all up and standing in a circle, and then suddenly bellow:

"Penguin Tag! I'm It! Go!"

There would be a mad scramble as a dozen or so people frantically waddled around the small room, trying to evade It. I don't suppose it would make a great spectator sport, but I can tell you that it really gets the adreneline pumping. It only took about three minutes of Penguin Tag before we were all flushed, laughing hysterically, and completely in touch with all the wild possibilities of the child mind.

Exuberance is a wonderful thing, and sadly lacking in adult life in mainstream North American culture. Where it exists, often chemicals have been called upon get us there. It's tragic.

The other time I was part of a group that frequently had spontaneous, non-chemical, unplanned expression was when I took a course called "Soundwork as Soulwork". It involved improvised group singing, drumming, and movement. Sometimes we were more "in the groove" than others, and there certainly were times when I felt like a silly fool, but there were also magic moments when we touched something truly beautiful together.

Once I attended a black Baptist church in Indiannapolis (with my ex-in-law family), and there was a lot of improv going on there. I particularly remember one older lady who sat behind me, prim and proper in a navy blue suit with white trim, and a matching hat. She came bursting out with spontaneous praise in response to everything the preacher said.

"Yes, Jesus!"

"Thank you, Jesus!"

At the time I thought it was really weird, and I felt uncomfortable. Now I think back and I understand the spirit that moved her. Celebrating the divine should make us want to shout out in joy and agreement!

My current church is much too well-behaved and quiet. The congregation is Baptist, liberal, and multicultural. There are approximately equal numbers of white, black, and Asian faces in the crowd. The black folks are best at giving the pastor an "Amen" here and there. There is one lady, old as the hills and with eyes clouded by cataracts, who belts out "Praise the Lord!" at regular intervals. She makes me smile.

But the rest of us sit quietly, and take flack from the pastor for being too restrained. I'm as guilty as the rest. I have occasionally found the juice to give an audible "Amen", but most of the time I'm as quiet as the proverbial churchmouse.

The hardest part is Going First. If there were just a few more people expressing exuberance, I tell myself, I could do it too. It's like I feel I need permission to be heard, to possibly call attention to myself.

Granted, I'm new there. Maybe as I feel like less of a stranger I'll feel less shy. Because if someone has to Go First, if someone has to be the one to establish Permission, why not me? There's no rule that says a little white girl can't shout out Hallelujah!

Instead of switching churches, I'd rather see what I can do to bring that kind of spirit to my local church. I can't be the only one who's waiting for a cue to loosen up. The pastor would definitely like to have a more lively congretation, and he lets us know that every week. I pray to be brave enough one day. That's the kind of devotion that God deserves.