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F r o n t i s p i e c e
The Limits of Seriousness
By Karl Keating
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This Rock
Volume 16, Number 2
 February 2005 
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At the Catholic Answers’ discussion forums, someone asked whether it is permissible to sing "Somewhere over the Rainbow" immediately before a funeral Mass. Wanting to have a little fun, I replied this way:
"I think I have found the definitive answer in the newly revised General Instruction on the Roman Missal (GIRM), par. 24503: ‘It is permissible to sing "Somewhere over the Rainbow" before a funeral Mass, but only if Judy Garland does the singing live.’"
I figured this would be recognized instantly as a spoof, for three reasons:
1. The GIRM—a long enough document as it is—has only 399 paragraphs, not 24,503.
2. Judy Garland died in 1969 and is still dead. The GIRM at the time of my writing was issued in 2002. It surely would not have authorized live singing by someone known to have been dead for a third of a century.
3. It is hardly credible that an official Vatican liturgical document would make reference to a movie theme song and a long-ago singer.
Despite such considerations, several people took my spoof seriously. I am not sure what to make of that. Maybe it means I am thought of in oracular terms, as if I were scripture that is to be taken literally no matter what. Maybe it means I should telegraph that a joke is coming—but that would spoil the fun. Maybe it just means that I should apply to the Vatican to add one very important paragraph to the GIRM.
Apologetics is serious business, but its seriousness has limits. Apologetics passes along religious truth (or at least tries to) and combats religious error (with more or less success). These are serious things, not to be laughed at. Souls are at stake, after all. When someone has a serious question about Catholic doctrines or morals, the proper response is not a guffaw but a helpful answer.
But there is a lighter side to apologetics, and those who work in the field professionally find themselves often smiling. People really do ask, "What time is the midnight Mass?" and "What day of the week will Ash Wednesday fall on this year?" (Given the way holy days have been translated to the nearest Sunday, that no longer is an entirely frivolous question.)
Usually a comment that forces you to smile is not itself humorous but conveys a situation so unexpected, even bizarre, that at first you think your leg is being pulled, but quickly you realize that the inquirer is relating the plain facts. You wonder, "How can people get themselves into such pickles? How can they become so confused about the elements of faith and morals?" A moment later you recall that, consequent to original sin, confusion often trumps clarity—and that realization causes you to shake your head and smile. Not that confusion itself is funny, but there is something funny about how we all fall into it at times, even when our intention is to think straight.
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