You get somebody to crack a smile, that's a beautiful thing.

Hear the words of Tracy Morgan, a man who has walked the valleys of hardship yet clothed himself in laughter: “You get somebody to crack a smile, that’s a beautiful thing.” Simple though it may sound, it carries the weight of a sacred teaching. For in that small curve of the lips lies the softening of sorrow, the breaking of silence, the reminder that life—even burdened with pain—still carries joy. To awaken that joy in another is no small act; it is, indeed, a beautiful thing.

The origin of this truth lies in the ancient knowledge that laughter and smiles are medicine for the soul. Among the earliest peoples, before written law or monuments, there were gatherings around firelight where stories were told, not only of gods and heroes, but of foolishness and jest. Why? Because they knew that to see another smile was to strengthen the tribe, to kindle warmth in hearts made weary by labor and loss. A smile was not entertainment—it was survival, a lifeline in the wilderness of human struggle.

Tracy Morgan himself embodies this teaching. A man who suffered grave injury, endured personal loss, and yet returned to the stage with humor, he knows the power of laughter firsthand. His words are not spoken lightly; they are forged in suffering. He has seen what it means when a room heavy with silence breaks open in laughter, when one weary face cracks into a smile. That moment is healing—it is communion between souls.

History, too, offers witness. Think of Charlie Chaplin, who lived through poverty, exile, and ridicule, yet dedicated his life to making audiences laugh. In the darkest days of the Great Depression, when hunger and hopelessness spread across nations, his films brought laughter to millions. A single smile, born in a theater, reminded people that even in despair, humanity still had light. His work was not trivial; it was salvation of the spirit, just as Morgan reminds us.

What makes a smile so profound is that it transcends language, culture, and barrier. You can travel to the ends of the earth, across oceans and deserts, and still a smile will be understood. It is the common tongue of humanity, the bridge over difference. To cause one, even for a moment, is to step into the eternal work of healing, for you never know what burdens another carries, nor how much one brief flicker of joy may mean.

The meaning is clear: the true measure of greatness is not only in power, wealth, or fame, but in the ability to lift another’s spirit. To make someone laugh, to help them smile, is to leave them better than you found them. This act requires no riches, no titles, no armies—only a heart willing to reach out with warmth. And in that moment, as Morgan declares, something beautiful is born.

Therefore, beloved, let this be your practice: do not underestimate the gift of kindness, of humor, of joy. Seek out opportunities each day to draw forth a smile—whether from friend, stranger, or even enemy. Tell the story, share the jest, offer the kind word, let your presence be light where there is heaviness. For in the end, when the dust of life settles, what will endure are not the crowns you wore nor the treasures you gathered, but the faces you made smile—and that, truly, is a beautiful thing.