I’s April, and we’ve got fools on our minds. Yet, I’ve been ruminating about these fellows long before the first of this month.

At the start of my freshman year in college, a long time ago, the professor in my General English class gave us an assignment to write a 10-page paper on any topic of our choice—anything from our summer vacation to what we ate for lunch. I decided on the role of the Fool in Shakespeare’s King Lear. Yeah, I was that kind of kid. But Lear’s Fool had made a big impression on me when I learned about him in a Shakespeare class during my senior year in high school. I dove into the print encyclopedias, books, and articles in my library, because that was how we researched back then. What I learned stuck with me, but I haven’t thought about it for many years until recently.

Artificial Fool

Before encountering Lear’s Fool, I understood the fool, or court jester, in a medieval and Renaissance court to be a silly entertainer employed by the king or another noble to amuse people at parties. He was at the beck and call of his patron to perform antics, jokes, songs, dances, or anything else demanded of him. He had no other function or status.

However, after reading King Lear, I learned of the artificial fool or wise fool. This skilled and valued servant had a “fool’s license” to mock the powerful, deliver uncomfortable truths, and give indirect criticism, all under the guise of amusing jest. There was intent behind his nonsense.

Shakespeare elevated Lear’s Fool to an even higher level as Lear’s loyal defender, companion, and voice of conscience. He used bitter and pathetic humor to prod the king into realizing his own folly, and Lear tolerated him because of the bond of affection between them.

King’s Wit

There is a more recent example of an artificial fool in Brandon Sanderson’s popular Stormlight Archive series. The King’s Wit, or simply Wit, was a weapon employed by the king to insult and manipulate those in his court without getting his own hands dirty. Of course, Wit was a lot more than that, but the point is he wasn’t mere entertainment. He served a higher purpose, though he might be amusing in the process of doing it.

But he didn’t just work for anybody. Wit was the king’s fool (while also serving his personal agenda). In fact, all the artificial fools and court jesters answered primarily to their own king or patron. Though another noble or guest might insist on a performance from the fool, he was under no obligation to anyone but his own master.

All Fools

That brings me to the crux of my foolish musings. Shakespeare said in another of his plays, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, “… what fools these mortals be!” Is it true—are all humans fools? If not always the imbecilic kind that Puck means here, are we still artificial fools who dance to someone’s tune to get what we need or want?

You may say that you govern your own actions and use your talents for your own purposes. That may be, but we are not self-sustaining. We all need something from others, whether it’s wages, resources, companionship, or meaning. How far will we bend or cavort to get these things? And then, does that not make us beholden to their whims?

I especially struggle with this question as an author. We actually provide entertainment for our livelihood. But what governs the kind and quality of that entertainment? Do we follow our own creative and truth-telling drives or the demands of the market? Are we a new brand of freelance fools without masters or patrons who must fend for ourselves? Yet, how can we be sharp wits, wise voices, or even effective artists if our focus and allegiance constantly shift?

Whose Fool?

The answer may lie in another holiday I just celebrated—Easter, where the foolishness of God triumphed over the wisdom of man. This year, I was particularly struck by the disciples’ fishing trip in John 21. The resurrected Christ helped them to catch an overwhelming haul of fish. That load of income would have provided a lot for them, but they left it in the sand to follow their Lord.

I ought likewise to be captivated by my King, serving His directives and trusting to His provisions, whatever they may be. Maybe that makes me hopelessly naïve in so many ways. But at least I’ll be Somebody’s fool, and not anyone’s fool.