I’ve recently finished reading a book about a jester during the Thirty Years’ War in the early 17th century, and it’s got me thinking a lot about the peculiar position that a fool must have found himself in. Beyond being an entertainer, a court jester was also responsible for their fool’s privilege: they were given the unique right to mock and dispute anyone, including nobility. They played an important role in the reputability of any royal court. No noble could be considered credible wihtout one. And to that end, I find it an incredibly righteous pursuit--to be solely burdened with the duty of being keen to others’ blindspots and weaknesses through your wit and shrewdness. Of course, the tradeoff is that you’d have to show off your own kind of weakness. They are fools for a reason.
I have been wondering if I have earned the fool’s privilege in the lives of my friends. Have a laid myself low enough, bare enough, to have gained the right to point them towards their own weakness? I think that jesters are often portrayed as conniving, wrathful sons of bitches, but I would guess that they were more often than not quite thoughtful people. They weren’t enslaved and forced to dance around to be laughed at. It was still a profession. So I’d like to think that when they were castigating the king and his court there was some real concern, some kind of kindness, woven into those words. I would like to be someone who can speak to the deficiencies of those I love in kindness and humility, because I know I am not without them myself. I would like to share those faults of mine, to be a fool, so that I may find myself firmly bound to those around me.