By Thea Jarvis

On a sultry midsummer morning, a bright-faced flock of eight-year-olds at Camp Promise sits transfixed as a smiling lady in partial whiteface prays aloud.

“Oh God, is that what you want me to do, God?” she asks. “You want me to cover myself all up so the special person inside me can come out?”

“All right, God,” she continues, finishing up the whiteface that masks her features. Whisking out her lipstick-lovestick, she paints a rosy smile that helps her to speak kindly to people. With the help of a magic coloring pencil, her eyes, too, become special, able to see deep down inside people.

“I’m afraid I’m going to get lost, God,” she worries, but in the blink of an eye, her plaintive cry turns to delighted surprise. “Oh God, I’ll do that,” she exclaims, polishing her nose to a bright red-vintage Rudolph hue.

“Now I can follow you, God, wherever you lead me.”

Grabbing a red and yellow pig-tailed wig, she places it jauntily on her head and explains its symbolic colors--red for love, yellow for joy. Topped off with a “kindness” hat that sits prettily atop the wig, she is ready to “walk in kindness” for the Lord.

Who is this jolly lady in the outlandish outfit and painted face? None other than Sister Karen Klimczak, a Sister of Saint Joseph from Buffalo, N.Y., who visited Atlanta this summer to work in the Camp Promise programs that helped insure safety on the streets for Atlanta’s children.

Sister Karen has fulfilled everybody’s childhood dream. She has become a clown.

Three years ago, Sister attended Loyola University of Chicago and became involved with ANAWIM, a Christian drama group that means “poor of the Lord.” There she learned the “theology” of clowning.

“The use of whiteface symbolizes dying to oneself,” she explained, “and the new colors used means the new person comes through. This is why Christ is sometimes portrayed as a clown.”

Since her debut into the world of clowning, Sister Karen has become a “clown of God,” working with adult and youth groups in the Diocese of Buffalo when her teaching duties at Mount St. Joseph Academy allow.

“The children remember what you tell them,” she observed of her clown role. “You can teach them the same thing outside the clown model and they might not listen.”

Back at Camp Promise, Sister Karen, in full clown regalia, tells the children the new name that goes with her new face, B-O-U-N-C-E. She spells it out for them using a ball to engage their attention and their interaction with her and others in the group.

“B--be yourself, be bruthful,” she begins, inviting the children to catch the ball she bounces to them. “O--others. This ball is soft and gentle and won’t hurt anyone,” she continues. “That’s how we should act toward others.”

“U--use the gifts God has given you. N--never hurt anyone. That’s why I came to Atlanta,” Sister Karen says. “I didn’t want anyone to hurt the children here.”

“C--be a caring person. E--every person is special!” she concludes. “My name is Bounce and I must bounce love, joy and peace to everyone.”

Sister Karen’s rapport with the children builds as she proceeds through her monologue. The children are continually called upon to respond, in both verbal and non-verbal ways, to the clown’s challenges.

Before becoming Sister Karen again, Bounce the clown shares happy hearts with her friends. The children receive red paper hearts inscribed with love messages that read “be a good friend,” “smile,” “be kind,” and other simple maxims. She also gives each child a custom-made balloon that she has stretched and pulled into colorful giraffes, butterflies and Snoopys.

“God says I have to go away now,” Sister Karen says gently, signaling the end of Bounce’s visit. “Oh God, it’s sad that I’m going away,” she says, removing her clown makeup so the children can see. “But I will remember the special person you want me to be.” And remembering the special person we are called to be is what Sister Karen’s clowning is all about.

“The other day one of the six-year-olds came up and told me ‘I didn’t fight because the clown told me to be kind to others.,’” she said, humbly delighted with such encouragement.

Sister Karen has likewise had a positive response to her work from her religious superiors.

“My community has highly supported me,” she remarked, observing that the clown role has aided her own spiritual journey.

“I grow through it,” said Sister Karen. “It’s a necessary outlet. When I share with others, others share with me. By nature, I’m not outgoing. But the whiteface is a mask that reveals yourself and enables you to reach out as a clown.”

Throughout her four weeks in Atlanta, Sister Karen calculated that she has been in whiteface “about 47 times,” working with children of all ages at all three archdiocesan campsites.

“I’ve learned a whole lot being here,” she smiled. “The people are very friendly and the children’s needs are so great.”

One of these children, a camper at St. Paul of the Cross, summed up Sister Karen’s role in the refreshing simplicity of the very young. “You’re God’s clown,” he said easily.

And that is just who Sister Karen Klimczak likes to be.