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Humor and Irony
By Orson Scott Card

I believe that I can safely say that there will never be an intentionally funny hymn in our hymnbook.

But that doesn’t mean that hymns don’t lend themselves to humor.

I remember as a child being delighted when I picked up a hymnal that some intrepid soul had turned into a scavenger hunt. At the top of one hymn there was a pencil scrawl: “Go to 111.” When I got to that page, another message sent me to another hymn. My reward, at last, was to be led to a hymn where the graffitero had left behind some lame joke or unkind remark about another kid.

It kept me sane during many a high council Sunday.

Of course, being a righteous child, I never defaced a hymnbook in such a disrespectful manner myself.

As a seminary student in Mesa, Arizona, it was hard to find a hymn booklet that hadn’t been joked up.

“Zion Stands with Hills Surrounded”: In pencil, right after the title: “Trapped!”

“There is hope smiling brightly before us / and we know that deliverance is nigh” — “9-1/2 months along!”

Lighter, Brighter Hymns

Of course these misuses of the hymnbooks — and the hymns! — were more than a little subversive. But the fact is that our hymnbooks include many different kinds of songs.

The fervent confession of “I Stand All Amazed” and the quiet reflection of “Abide with Me” are answered by the good cheer of “There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today” and the stirring anthem “For All the Saints.”

We have perky homilies like “Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel” and “Ere You Left Your Room This Morning” and “Let Us Oft Speak Kind Words to Each Other.”

Hymns don’t all have to have the same weight, the same pace, the same mood — except, of course, the sacrament hymns, which must remind us of the Savior’s sacrifice. Yet even those are not all the same, or we would weary of singing them, no matter how earnestly we believe in the message they convey.

In the old hymnbook, “O My Father” had two musical settings. There was the traditional one, which is lovely ... but drags. The other one, while not as popular, had the virtue of taking us through the same words at a much faster pace and with a brighter mood.

It’s no accident, then, that it is the traditional melody that we sing at funerals — it’s that somber. But I miss the other melody. I thought it was a good one. And I appreciated the chance to sing those words of Eliza R. Snow’s without having to be depressed

What can be more thrilling than hearing a chapel full of men and boys in priesthood meeting boldly singing “Ye Elders of Israel” or “Israel, Israel, God Is Calling”?

And the brightly rising melody of “Sweet Is the Work” is every bit as entitled to be called a hymn as “The Lord Is My Shepherd” or “I Know That My Redeemer Lives.”

Earnestness

What all the hymns in the hymnbook have in common is earnestness. No matter what mood they convey, they mean what they say.

Irony need not apply.

But I can’t help it — ironic hymns do occur to me. I know they could never be sung in church. But that doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t be written or shared.

For instance, just for the sheer joy of it, on a day when I was nearly knocked down by a couple of nine-year-old boys charging down the corridor just as the meetings let out, I wrote a hymn that you will never hear during a Primary program in sacrament meeting:

“Hymn of the Primary Boys”
by Orson Scott Card
[sung to the tune of “There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today”]

We're at church, and so we must be good.
No more running in the hall.
Listen to the teachers like we should.
No spitwads on the wall.
            For the bishop, bishop is watching
            Like an angel with a fiery sword.
            If he sees us being nasty little kids
            There'll be yelling in the ward.

If a gospel lesson is the goal
And the classroom is a dud,
Rolls of toilet paper down the hole
Will teach of Noah's flood.
For the bishop, etc.

We can whisper, but we cannot shout;
Raise our hands before we speak;
Act like angels till they let us out,
Then devils through the week.
For the bishop, etc.

When I emailed this hymn to a friend a few months ago, she wrote back and said, “Don’t you ever, ever dare to publish this hymn! The last thing I need is for you to give my boys ideas!”

But don’t you wish, just the tiniest little bit, that you could line up all the boys in Primary and have them boom out this ditty on Father’s Day?

Satire — A Call for Correction

Some people believe that satirical humor is making fun of sacred things — and it certainly can do that. I remember a book that was published some years back consisting of hymn texts designed to scorn or ridicule a large number of Saints — mostly those who weren’t as enlightened as the intellectuals who wrote the book. It was mean-spirited and hurtful.

But that doesn’t mean all satire has a dark or selfish purpose. On the one hand, Christ told us not to judge, lest we be judged. On the other hand, he certainly had no qualms about calling for correction of other people’s sins, and sometimes in an ironic way: “Let him who is without sin among you cast the first stone.”

The best satirists in literary history were those who had a clear moral purpose in mind. They were not mocking for the sake of appearing smart; they saw something wrong, and wrote in such a way as to ridicule the error and call for correction.

The fact that it was humorous merely sweetened the taste of the medicine.

For instance, think of Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal.” While on the surface it seems outrageous — imagine calling for cannibalism as the solution for the “Irish Question”! — near the end, Swift has a passage that urges people not to do the things that in fact he wants them to do.

The result is that by taking the mistreatment of the Irish to an extreme, Swift actually calls for the English to treat the Irish better.

Then again, “A Modest Proposal” was not intended to be read aloud from the pulpit. Just as this satirical hymn is not meant to be sung in church:

“Bless Even the Noisy Children’
by Orson Scott Card

Bless even the noisy children,
Home teachers we never see,
The lofty ones talking down,
The gossips who hear bad news with glee:
The weakest of all is me.

We thank thee for endless lessons,
Ward dinners we cannot eat,
For people who said they'd help,
For bushels of weevils mixed with wheat:
What's done in thy name is sweet.

O Savior, thy sure forgiveness
Was born in thy pain and grief:
O Harvester of the righteous,
Forgive us our stubborn unbelief
And gather us in thy sheaf.

I hope this is at least amusing to read; and many of the things I point out are unfortunate or ironic aspects of Mormon life. I am, indeed, calling for correction. But at no point is the hymnist standing outside the Church, mocking those within. The speaker of these words numbers himself among the foolish ones; he honors even what is badly done, as long as it is well meant. (“What’s done in thy name is sweet.”

And in the final verse, the satire is set aside, and the hymnist asks the Lord to forgive us all. In a way, this is a doubling of the irony: the audience has been led to expect a wryly mocking tone, and suddenly the words are forthright and passionate. Though the ironic tone is not fully set aside, in the call for forgiveness of “our stubborn unbelief.”

Wayne C. Booth, in his indispensable book The Rhetoric of Irony, explains that irony only works when the reader can tell where the writer wants him to stand. The meaning of ironic writing comes, not from the things that are ridiculed, but rather from the things which are not — from the things that the ironist believes in.

In “Bless Even the Noisy Children,” the ironist may find gossip, untended children, pride, and unfaithfulness in service to be deserving of mockery — but what he does not mock is sincere intent, or the need we all have for God’s forgiveness.

Hymns like these are meant to be passed from hand to hand, rather like the graffiti in those hymnbooks I pored through as a child trapped in a dull meeting.

But that doesn’t mean they don’t serve a worthy purpose. Even the righteous are entitled to smile from time to time — and laugh, as long as they don’t do it too loudly, or at the wrong time.

Post your comments — but not your own hymn texts, unless you wish to surrender copyright! — here on Meridian. And don’t send hymn texts to me! I’m not a music publisher.

However, if you’re a composer and wish to set one of my hymns to music, don’t ask for my permission first. I hereby grant you permission to use my hymn text free of charge in your own musical setting, as long as you don’t publish or sell the result.

In other words, you can perform your hymn as much as you want. But the moment you want to publish it or record it or charge for it, then we need to talk — I’ll need to hear your hymn and decide if I approve of it before you can publish, record, or charge for the combined work. I can be reached at http://www.nauvoo.com or http://www.hatrack.com.

And if I deny permission, then you can simply write your own words to fit the music you wrote. You won’t lose a thing.