When you hear the laughter of some Christians do you ever wonder why there is so much pain in it? Why it often has the effect of causing tiny alarm bells to start ringing inside of you? Why it can make you solemn and reflective in the way that a great tragedy does? Why you feel a little saddened in its aftermath? Perhaps on witnessing this kind of laughter issuing from the Christian's mouth you have been so shocked by it that you have turned away from him, lowered your head and whispered to yourself: 'My God. The pain in that laughter! Doesn't he realise how awful it sounds?'
No reasonable person would blame you for wondering how the Christian can be blind to the pain in his own laughter given that the pain which fills it is so stark in nature, so blatant and unmistakable, so flagrant as to be nakedly obvious. This is why even though one finds the Christian's laughter excruciating one cannot help but be intrigued by it at the same time. This laughter is so anguished in tone, so forced in its delivery, so hysterical in its outburst that one involuntarily shrinks from it as if from an exploding boil. One feels acutely embarrassed for the Christian on hearing his pained and desperate laughter. Indeed, one is even moved at times to pity him because of it. That said, the pain in the Christian's laughter is so uniquely awful that it demands an explanation.
The reason why the pain in the Christian's laughter creates such a strong impression on rational individuals, and makes them prick up their ears whenever they hear it, is because it reveals more about the Christian's inner being in an instant than a very large book could ever do. What this laughter reveals about the Christian in such an immediate and striking way is that he is an individual who suffers greatly from himself: more precisely, that he is someone to whom something terrible has been done, something shameful, and that the person who has done this terrible and shameful thing to him is none other than himself. How do we know this? Because the Christian's laughter is a laughter which resonates with deep and unrelenting guilt. It is the tortured laughter born of an individual who cannot live with himself, an individual who recognises at some level of his being that he is disgraceful and contemptible, an object to be despised. This is why on hearing it the man of finer feelings and good taste immediately averts his eyes from its source.
The terrible and shameful thing which the Christian has done to himself inwardly, and which fills his laughter with so much pain, is that he has murdered his freedom and integrity for the sake of his religion. The Christian is only too willing to perform this deplorable act of self-sabotage because he is a weakling who is terrified of assuming responsibility and control over his own life and decisions. Rather than determining for himself what kind of person he will become and how he will live, he pretends that a 'Divine Being' exists external to himself so that he can abandon himself to its will and authority. Thus, instead of taking charge of his own existence, instead of being the author of his own destiny, the Christian chooses to adopt an infantile orientation to life by clinging abjectly to his religion, by clinging to a childish delusion, by clinging to the apron strings of 'God'. As a consequence of choosing to be un-free and inauthentic in this way, by choosing to remain locked in a state of permanent infancy, the Christian allows his own existential possibilities to wither and die: so much so, that long before his body expires he becomes something false and vacuous, a shell of a man, a desiccated nonentity, the ghost of what might have been.
The pain in the Christian's laughter, then, should be understood as summarising all the anguish and guilt he feels at having betrayed himself, all the hurt and rage he feels at having neglected and disowned his true potentialities and goals, all his secret shame at having made a travesty of his life. His pained laughter announces to the whole world in a direct and emphatic way that he is a cowardly wretch who dreads his own freedom, that he is unnerved by the innumerable possibilities of existence, that he is so afraid of thinking and acting for himself that he is willing to forgo the possibility of his own self-creation.
Given that what the Christian thinks, says and does are done in almost total compliance and conformity with the directives of a fantasised power which lies outside himself (viz. 'God') this means that he is not really in his 'own' thoughts, not really in his 'own' words, not really in his 'own' actions. This accounts for why he is prey to recurring feelings of emptiness, depersonalization and unreality - and the horrible suspicion that he is merely going through the motions of being alive. The Christian is necessarily divorced from his whole inner life and experience because what he thinks, says and does are informed by, or are done in accordance with, a 'Divine Power' which is perceived as other than himself. The Christian, in effect, exists only in absentia for he is a person who has absconded from himself. His self-being is really a form of death-in-life.
Having considered the above it is hardly surprising, then, that the pain in the Christian's laughter leaves the rational person who has the misfortune to hear it somewhat depressed. For it signifies a human tragedy - the tragedy of an individual who, out of weakness and fear, has failed to achieve an authentic mode of being, who has never grown up, and who has wantonly sacrificed two of the most precious things a human being can possess: viz. his own freedom and integrity.
Regards
James
