But Seriously, Let's be Ironic

For a long time, irony was synonymous with sarcasm, in all its cynicism and sometimes-subtle deprecation. It was difficult to reconcile a love for joking and absurdity with my love for others, especially when my dad maintained that "Sarcasm is a sin," quoting Matthew 5.37 (Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No'; anything beyond this comes from the evil one). How, I wondered, could it be sinful not to say what you mean? Don't we do that all the time? Is it ever possible to say what we truly mean?
Contemporary culture has been critiqued as pervasively ironic beyond any semblance of intentional sincerity (think: the hipster ethos, complete with Kanye West sunglasses, mustaches, Nike hi-tops, other tongue-in-cheek accouterments). However, in his editorial for Image magazine, Gregory Wolfe argues that irony is something quite different from that which is often labeled as such in contemporary postmodern culture. Irony, he believes, is something different from the "bad faith" we often see manifested through attitudes of evasiveness and biting insincerity. He writes,

"The simplest definition of irony that I’ve encountered is “the recognition of a reality different from the masking appearance.” The goal of the artist is to enable his or her audience to encounter irony as a moment of recognition, an awareness of the disparity between appearance and reality. Like many of the artist’s devices, irony is something of an interactive game, requiring a discerning mind that is willing to sift through the evidence and draw conclusions. When irony is used by the greatest minds, recognition can become revelation, a way of piercing through the ambiguities of daily life to a fleetingly-glimpsed truth."

Irony is not condescending or embittered. It "reminds us of how difficult it is to achieve the transparency of true sincerity" with our words. There is a playfulness to it, a recognition and acceptance of the limits of language and communication that can be used to great effect (see: "A Modest Proposal," and try to take it seriously). Sincerity is, I believe, one of the most noble aspirations in a relationship. And for a while, I believed that sincerity meant approaching conversation with a somber, no-nonsense attitude. However, after meeting certain people and seeing how they go about play-talking with one another, I saw the joy and imaginative liberation of irony.

Recently I've come across a few thoughts on Jesus' irony and playfulness, which breathe fresh air into the figure who is, more than maybe anyone else in history, painted as dull and vapid. This, from Wolfe's article:

"To my mind, Jesus is the supreme ironist. It is impossible for me to think of his parables, or the many koan-like conundrums he poses to apostles, Pharisees, and gentiles, without sensing his playful use of indirection, that teasing form of testing those who encounter him, that is the essence of irony."

And, from the book A Matrix of Meanings: Finding God in Pop Culture commenting on this passage: "The Bible is a subversive document with a wicked sense of humor that spares no one. Unfortunately, many of its pointed words shoot right over our heads and miss the opportunity to liberate our hearts." I don't think God didn't smile a little bit to himself when identifying himself as "I am that I am" to Moses in Exodus 3.

It seems that we need to recover this playfulness, this teasing indirection that relieves much of the tension of somber dialogue. There is a time for direct addressing of issues, when jocularity ought be put on pause. However, Wolfe's distinction between irony and "bad faith" is especially relevant when trying to figure a way of delightful indirection in a culture of cynicism and condescension. We would do well to learn from Swift, Sedaris, and even the Son of God.