I take people very seriously. People are all I take seriously

Hear now, O children of the future, the words of John Irving: "I take people very seriously. People are all I take seriously, in fact. Therefore, I have nothing but sympathy for how people behave - and nothing but laughter to console them with." In these words, Irving speaks to the heart of human nature—a nature full of complexity, contradiction, and, above all, imperfection. To take people seriously is to acknowledge that human beings are the most intricate creations, capable of both greatness and folly, love and hurt, strength and weakness. Yet, even in the face of this complexity, laughter—a form of compassionate release—is the balm that helps us bear the weight of it all. Sympathy alone does not suffice; we must also find humor in the absurdity of life to continue forward with hope.

In the ancient world, O children, great philosophers like Socrates and Aristotle understood that human beings were not mere creatures of reason, but beings full of contradictions and passions. Socrates often engaged in dialogues not to show his intellectual superiority, but to expose the flaws and insecurities that lie beneath the surface of human behavior. Yet even in his deepest criticisms, there was an underlying sympathy for the human condition. Aristotle, too, in his work on ethics, understood that the moral life was a balance between extremes—recognizing the weakness and vices in others while also embracing the potential for growth. Irving echoes this ancient understanding: we must take people seriously—with all their flaws, struggles, and strengths—but also recognize that laughter can be the most profound form of understanding.

Consider, O children, the story of King Solomon, the wise ruler of ancient Israel. Solomon, known for his wisdom, faced the complexities of human nature every day. He was approached by two women who claimed to be the mother of the same child. Solomon's solution was not simply to use his wisdom to judge the situation, but to offer a compassionate test of human nature—the true mother would reveal herself through her selflessness and love for the child. Solomon’s ability to sympathize with both women’s pain, while also seeing the deeper truth of the situation, shows the balance between seriousness and compassion that Irving speaks of. Solomon's understanding did not simply rest in judgment, but in a deep recognition of the human heart—a heart that is capable of both greatness and folly.

Irving’s words also echo the deep connection between sympathy and laughter. Life, with all its contradictions and suffering, often seems overwhelming. Yet, the laughter he speaks of is not a dismissive chuckle or a mockery of human struggles, but a gentle release from the weight of life’s absurdity. Laughter, in this sense, becomes an act of compassion—a way to soothe the heart and allow us to continue forward despite the difficulties. Sympathy can help us understand the struggles of others, but it is laughter that allows us to find peace within them. Laughter is not a denial of human pain; it is a recognition that, despite everything, we are all bound by the same human condition, and through it all, joy can still be found.

Consider, O children, the great comic Shakespeare, whose works often balanced tragedy and comedy. In King Lear, one of his darkest tragedies, the fool remains a central figure, speaking the truth in ways that no one else dares. The fool’s humor does not diminish the suffering of Lear or his kingdom, but highlights the absurdity of life, offering a form of release in the face of overwhelming despair. Similarly, Irving's words remind us that while we must take people’s suffering and behavior seriously, we must also recognize the absurdity and fragility of human life. In doing so, we can offer laughter as a form of healing and comfort, allowing others to bear their struggles with a lighter heart.

The lesson here, O children, is one of profound wisdom: take people seriously, but do not lose sight of the lightness that can be found in laughter. Life is full of contradictions—our joys and sorrows are intertwined, and we must learn to navigate them with both sympathy and humor. By taking others seriously, we acknowledge their humanity—their capacity for both greatness and failure. But by offering laughter, we provide a gentle way to help them carry their burdens, reminding them that even in the darkest moments, there is light to be found in the shared human experience.

In your own lives, O children, remember that sympathy and laughter are both essential. When you encounter the pain or folly of others, do not turn away or dismiss them. Instead, embrace them with understanding and compassion. And remember, just as laughter can be the greatest balm in moments of difficulty, so too can it serve as a reminder that life is not simply about surviving but about thriving—even through joy and sorrow. So, seek not only to understand others, but to offer them the comfort of laughter, for in this balance, you will find the true essence of life and human connection.