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The clergy clowns find a theological justification for their unusual ministry in the injunction of St. Paul to the Corinthians to become "fools for Christ's sake" because God has "made foolish the wisdom of the world." They discern multilayered analogies between the clown and Christ: the clown's joy in living and mimed delight in simple things, like the scent of a flower, for instance, recall Jesus' command to "consider the lilies of the field, how they grow." The simplicity and childlike persistence of the clown can have a special meaning for Christians. "The clown refuses to accept the limits of the possible," explains Tim Kehl, a professional clown and magician who is also a United Church of Christ minister. "A clown will insist on riding a bicycle whose wheels are out of kilter or trying to walk a slack tightrope. Sooner or later, he will succeed—to the great delight of the audience. The Resurrection of Jesus is the supreme example of God's refusal to accept the limits of the possible." Through love, the clown, like Jesus, can transform the ordinary into the sacred. At the Last Supper, ordinary bread and cheap table wine became eternal symbols of Jesus' love and sacrifice. At Pentecost, a group of illiterate fishermen were turned into inspired preachers who could speak to every man present in his own language. "Isn't that Christ's message," asks Shaffer, "that even ordinary people can become divine through his love?"
Clowning for Christ advocates point out that their approach is not a new gimmick but the revival of an ancient tradition. Clowns often had an important role in medieval church services: they played the part of "holy interrupters," popping up to illustrate a theological point through mime, magic or even mockery. Gradually, however, they began to satirize the church and secular society. "This did not make clowns very popular," Shaffer notes. They fell out of favor with the church and eventually were declared satanic. Thereafter clowns kept to the secular world of the circus—at least until their current revival.
Today there are 3,000 clown ministry groups in the U.S. who put on big noses and suits of many colors in order to serve God. Yet it was only seven years ago that Methodist Minister Bill Peckham organized one of the earliest clown ministries in Elkhart, Ind., among the young people of his parish. Calling themselves the Holy Fools, they began visiting hospitals, mental institutions and nursing homes, where they fanned out to chat with individual patients, occasionally performed short skits or magic tricks and made balloon sculptures. Often they just talked quietly with a patient, held or hugged him. As one clown explained: "Sometimes when we don't say so many words, the Word comes through more clearly." They had such success at reaching out to withdrawn, sick and lonely people that the idea quickly spread. Peckham now estimates the number of Holy Fool groups alone at 2,000 of the total 3,000. There are even Roman Catholic clowns. Says Father Nick Weber, a Jesuit priest and a clown whose ministry is an itinerant sidewalk circus: "If you make believe, the chance for belief is heightened."