Humor for Healing
By John Ortiz, edited by Jonathan Atleson
I got my sense of humor from my father. He had a way of lighting up a crowd. This had the effect of breaking the ice, so to speak. Making people laugh can open up lines of communication.
One of my earliest memories about the effect of humor on communication came about by accident. When I was in the fourth or fifth grade, we moved to Phoenix, Arizona. My father was a physician, so we lived in an affluent neighborhood, and I went to a school filled with affluent kids.
At that age, I started becoming aware of racial differences. It was becoming evident that there were different shades of “white”. I’m not talking about ecru or French vanilla, but more like Mormon or Seventh Day Adventist. It just seemed to me that some people were just whiter than other people. But I didn’t feel like I was included in that spectrum. Rather, I was somewhere on the “brown” shelf. This made me a bit socially awkward, as I wasn’t sure how I fit in among the various shades of “white”.
One day a girl came up to me and invited me to her birthday party. She lived right down the street from me. At first I was reluctant, but a part of me realized it’s important to break out of your comfort zone and meet people. So I gathered up my courage and went to her party.
When I walked in, I felt really awkward as I didn’t know anybody there. So I did the wallflower thing and took up a position in the corner of the room. It just so happened that there was a plant also hanging out in that corner, but it was up above my head and I hadn’t even taken notice of it. This plant just happened to have an odd name, of which I also was ignorant.
So I was sitting awkwardly by myself in the corner, when a white girl across the room pointed in my direction. I remember hearing her say, “Hey look! A wandering Jew!”
Needless to say, I was quite taken aback. Just what kind of party is this? I mean, not only were they pointing out someone’s apparent cultural heritage, but also calling out that he didn’t seem to know where he was going!
Without thinking, I said, “Well, you know, I may look Jewish, but I'm not. And if I’m wandering it’s only because, uh, I'm looking for my friend.”
Well, this caused the whole party to start laughing out loud. Raucus, uproarious laughter. Only I had no idea what was so funny about the whole affair. I’m thinking they must have found me to be terribly witty or something. After all, the Jews are famous for their sense of humor. These white kids apparently thought I was a “member of the tribe.”
But whatever they found so amusing, it had the effect of breaking the ice. People started coming up to me and giving me hugs. Somehow, I had now been accepted into the group. It seemed that I had been deemed “the funny guy,” the life of the party.
After the party, I walked home, lost in thought. It was neither accurate, nor appropriate, that they called me a wandering Jew. Instead, they should have called me a wondering rube because I am wondering what the heck just happened and have no idea what I’m supposed to learn from the experience.
So it’s not until years later that I uncovered the key to this bewildering experience. It turns out that there is a plant called a Wandering Jew. This just so happened to be the name of the plant under which I was sitting in my corner hideout. The girl was simply exercising her newfound skill at plant identification, not calling out my identity as a wayward outsider.
It turns out I was the last person to get my own joke! It was funny, but I didn't know it at the time. Anyway, the lesson I took from the experience still held. Humor can break the ice — even unintentional and embarrassing humor. Today I would do something similar by consciously using self-deprecating humor to make people feel more at ease.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the role of humor in healing. How does comedy connect to healing? This idea really clicked for me when I read Norman Cousins’ book, Anatomy of an Illness: As Perceived by the Patient. He wrote about his journey through a serious illness and the different approaches he took to heal himself — megadoses of Vitamin C and various other therapies. But what stood out, the “pearl of wisdom” that everyone remembers, is that he locked himself in a room with TV comedies, watching nonstop and laughing endlessly.
His choice of comedy included Lucille Ball, which made sense. But then there was The Three Stooges. I could never understand why people thought they were funny. Humor is such a personal thing; it’s unique to each individual. But if you can find the humor in any given situation, it can really break the ice. The best speakers are always the ones who make people laugh—it instantly changes the energy in the room.
That got me thinking about the court jester’s role in medieval society. I guess things could get a little grim around the castle, with all the endless sieges and the torturing going on down in the dungeon. I suppose the jester’s job was to “lighten things up around here”.
I wondered, was jestering a stressful gig? I mean, if you were a little hungover, say, and made an off-color joke about the king, you’d better hope it landed. Because, well, nothing would stop the king from killing you on the spot! (Or at least, sending you downstairs to hone your skills in a less prestigious venue.)
These days, when a comedian bombs on stage, we call it “dying”. Makes you wonder if there’s a historical connection there!
I’ve also reflected on humor’s role as social commentary. People like George Carlin and Lenny Bruce used comedy to challenge societal norms, and shows like Saturday Night Live provide the same service. But beyond that, laughter itself has a healing quality. Finding humor in a story from your healing journey can shift your perspective and lighten the mood.
For example, I see humor in unexpected places — such as the Bible. Take the story of Job, one of the oldest stories in the Old Testament. Job is this exemplary man, wealthy and happy. Then one day, God and Satan have a conversation about him. Satan questions Job’s faith, so God allows Satan to test him—first by taking away his wealth and family, and then by making Job incredibly sick. Job stays faithful, but what fascinates me is his wife. She is only given one line (loose translation): “What…are you still clinging to your principles? Why don’t you just curse God and die already!"
Think about it: she had lost her children, her wealth, and now had to care for a sick husband. Yet all history remembers of her is that one line. If she endured all that after birthing 18 kids, maybe we should cut her some slack!
Another example: in the New Testament, there’s a story in which Jesus casts demons out of a man and into a herd of pigs, which then run off a cliff. Sure, it paints a dramatic picture, but what about the poor pig farmer? One minute, he’s thinking about how great his herd is, and the next, no more pigs. I imagine him trying to make some quick cash with the world’s first all-you-can-eat pork barbecue.
Humor like this changes how you see things. I remember watching The Daily Show with my parents — my mom, a Democrat, and my dad, a Republican. They’d laugh at jokes about the other side but not at jokes about their own. It showed me how humor is colored by perspective.
During COVID, I saw humor in the absurdities. Like the idea that someone could swerve to avoid a squirrel, crash, and if they tested positive for COVID, the death would be listed as COVID-related. And what about the sudden disappearance of flu deaths in 2020? Turns out, COVID cured the flu! Or so it seemed.
On a lighter note, my favorite comedy of all time is Monty Python and the Holy Grail. There’s a scene where a guy collecting plague victims tries to throw an old man onto the cart, but the man keeps saying, “I’m not dead yet!” It’s absurd, silly, and brilliant.
I also poke fun at things like strict diets. When I read Dr. Gundry’s The Plant Paradox, it felt like he was taking everything off my vegetarian menu. I imagined the Garden of Eden, with God explaining lectins to Adam and Eve: Good plant, bad plant, good plant, bad plant. Later, Adam asks Eve, “Hey, were apples on the list?” And Eve says, “Hold on, let me check with the serpent!”
Humor keeps us grounded. It’s self-deprecating, irreverent, and healing. So, if you’re feeling stuck, find something to laugh about. Whether it’s a movie, a story, or a silly thought, embrace it. I truly believe humor is one of God’s greatest gifts to us—it lightens the journey and helps us heal.