There is nothing bigoted or anti-Semitic about comic Tommy Tiernan
I ATTENDED my first Tommy Tiernan live show recently. It was a Sunday in Ballaghaderreen. Even there, not many would consider it the best way to keep holy the Sabbath day. It was outrageously, hilariously, unholy fun, but not for the faint of sensibility.
The sell-out crowd of mainly 20-somethings loved him. He was welcomed rapturously and got a standing ovation at the end.
I had not been to a live stand-up comedy show before, never mind attending a Tommy Tiernan one. Nor had I ever met the man. Chances are, but for the recent controversy over his comments at Electric Picnic, I would not have gone to see him that Sunday night either. It is probably a generational thing.
Stand-up comics are popular with younger people. You can see why. Such a high-wire, high-octane performance generates an intense rapport between comic and audience, setting both off on a joint magical mystery tour of willed disbelief which can end up anywhere.
Generally conducted in Ireland’s third “official” language, it also has regular diversions into sexperiences, real or hoped for or imagined.
Some of the audience were aware Tiernan was in trouble again, but few knew why. All had the more immediate concerns of college/jobs, relationships, sex, football and craic. I had hoped to get an interview with Tiernan after the show, but he declined. However, we talked for almost 30 minutes. And, while what is off the record stays off the record, I can say that he impressed me as a decent man, reflective, and with a genuine, well-developed interest in things spiritual. I feel confident in saying that there is absolutely nothing of the bigot, fanatic or anti-Semitic about Tiernan. Not at all.
And, as became clear during the show that Sunday night, he is also a man who struggles to understand his own talent and role, as well as the nature of the creativity which takes possession of him and which, as so many other artists have suggested since the dawn of consciousness, “uses” him too.
He pondered the "soul" that drives him. It was a reminder of the Francis Hardy character in Faith Healer, that great play by Brian Friel. It is structured as a series of "stand-up" monologues, in one of which Hardy attempts to understand his extraordinary gift. Many have interpreted this as Friel himself trying to understand and explain the creative impulse.
In the show that Sunday night Tiernan spoke of the Trickster, a character in mythology for whom nothing is sacred.
He also referred to an order of Zen monks who behaved similarly even to the point of defecating on their sacred texts. Though “defecating” was not the word he used.
Both Trickster and Zen monks challenged existing perceptions, including those of what is holy. They did so mercilessly, sparing no preconception or sensibility.
It is not a new idea.
In some old cultures the Trickster was an essential part of sacred ceremonies. His role was to help people remember that what was being seen as sacred had come about through experiences which, to a contemporary sensibility, were provocative, profane and deeply shocking.
Laughter was viewed as a way of freeing people from the inhibitions that came with regularity, routine, ritual, stability, stagnation, the staid. The mischief of the Trickster, the holy fool or the court jester, helped keep minds open and understandings fresh.
Later, he talked to his audience about “the karma of the road home” and how sometimes he can be shocked by the things he says in performance.
He recalled how on such occasions he sometimes beats himself up verbally and in a language the clergy used not know. He ended that routine with: “Tiernan . . . where’s that shop window with your reflection so I can punch myself?”
Tiernan may have been looking in a few shop windows lately with violent intent. He has no need to. The recent fuss was so much ado about nothing.
Maybe it too is a generational thing?
Patsy McGarry is Religious Affairs Correspondent