Young Adult
When I was in San Diego in January, the only touristy thing I was determined to do was to see Ben Schwartz perform improv. I had previously seen a recorded long-form improv special of his on Netflix called “Middleditch and Schwartz: Parking Lot Wedding.” (The comedy that comes off the top of people’s heads tends to include a lot of inappropriate content, so if you decide to watch any improv, please proceed with caution.) At the beginning of the recorded show, he and his improv partner had a conversation with a few audience members in order to give themselves some sparks for the story they would tell. From there, the two of them spent the better part of an hour building a story from scratch. They switched around between at least a dozen characters, keeping track of the various threads and building a comedy show unlike anything else. It’s one of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen. I was mesmerized not just by the level of comedic skill they displayed but also by the amount of humility and courage and trust you have to have in order to pull off an improv show.
Watching their performance made me resolve that — even though it will be among the most uncomfortable experiences of my life — I have to take at least one improv class in my life in order to grow in virtue, especially the virtue of humility.
St. Thomas Aquinas says that “Humility means seeing ourselves as God sees us: knowing every good we have comes from him as pure gift.” (Summa Question 161) I take that to mean that the humble person knows who they are, they have accepted who they are — the good and the bad — and even though they are always striving to grow, they’re not caught up in worrying about who they are or about how others see them. The humble person is comfortable with who they are because they receive everything — including themselves — as a gift. I suspect that true humility looks more like confidence than it does like self-deprecation. Accepting the reality of who you are allows you to take both the good and the bad at face value and move on through life.
As far as I can tell, comedy — and especially improv — is an excellent school for this acceptance of the reality of who you are. I recently read Tina Fey’s memoir, “Bossypants,” in which she outlines her rules for improv, and I was struck by how much I needed to take her advice to prayer with me.
Her first rule is: Say Yes. In improv, that’s because if your fellow actor starts a storyline and you say no to it, your story immediately stalls out. In the Christian life, our most basic job is to say yes to what God asks us to do. Saying yes in life when we reasonably can is a way to practice openness. It’s a way to grow in the habit of having a heart that is open both to God and to the people around us.
Her second rule is: to say not just yes but Yes And. This is perhaps the most famous rule of improv. When your fellow actor makes a suggestion, you agree and you add your own. Tina Fey uses this rule to give the follow-up life advice, “To me, ‘yes and’ means don’t be afraid to contribute. It’s your responsibility to contribute. Your initiations are worthwhile.” The openness and receptivity that God asks of us is not passive; it’s active. Mary’s yes was followed immediately by her visit to Elizabeth. And our active response is not just checking the box to show God we’re listening. He mysteriously offers us an active role in his work in our hearts and in the world. When God works through us it is not in spite of us. It is through the full use of our faculties.
Tina Fey’s third rule is: Make Statements; don’t just ask questions. In improv, making statements means you are contributing to the solution (the story) instead of just filling out the problem (asking questions). Our active response to what God is doing means doing real things. Our job is not just to sit around asking God to reveal things to us. We take on vocations and jobs and friendships and trips to the grocery store. We are to be constantly in relationship with him while we also engage with life. In real life, knowing God is with us, we offer ourselves and contribute to the world in which we live.
Her final rule is: There are No Mistakes, Only Opportunities. In improv, it means that no matter what strange thing you or your fellow actor may have blurted out, you can always build that into something interesting. And for Catholics, if you are going to actually live life with Christ, you will make mistakes, but that should never be a source of discouragement. Pride and perfectionism are the only reasons to be discouraged by mistakes. Jesus specifically tells us not to let the fear of failure keep us from engaging with life in the parable of the talents. (Matthew 25:14-30) Failure is the only way to learn, and mistakes can always be redeemed. If a group of improv comedy actors can use crazy ideas to build a fun and entertaining show, the God who created the universe can certainly use every detail of your story to help you become the person he created you to be.
I saw Ben Schwartz perform with three other improv actors in San Diego in January. If I tried, I couldn’t explain to you the delight of the silly recurring bits or the genius for physical comedy that makes knocking over a chair hilarious. But maybe that’s also part of the beauty of improv. It happens in real life, and you have to be present to all of it in order to enjoy it. When you are present, it draws you into the beauty of humility: of being the person you actually are.
