Day 27 - The Beards

Dear listener, would you ever like to see yourself in the mirror with a beard? The Epistle of James says ‘Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like’ - but if you could, willingly, sprout a beard - either right away or over a course of months - I think it would stick in your memory.

Beards have has a historic role in Judaism - though observance of it varies between denomination. The book of Leviticus gives an ambiguous order not to ‘mar the corners of your beard’, but elsewhere Leviticus and Ezekiel seem to suggest shaving and short hair are both fine and good to have. Israel was another name for Jacob - memorably described as ‘a smooth man’, while his hunter brother was described as ‘an hairy man’. On one level, it seems hairiness is next to godliness, but one of the biggest, least civilised and Bluto-esque brothers in the Bible is shown as far hairier than God’s chosen star.

I went to school with communist theologian and occasional thought-for-the-day presenter Marika Rose, and she told of how her great great grandfather wrote a paper on whether beards are good or evil, whether they represent sinful and animal nature, and concluded that they were ok but not great. I wish I had a copy of that treatise, not least because it went into whether Jesus had a beard. Everyone assumes he had one, but we actually don’t know. Would he have rejected one for its metaphorical value, had one for its priestly connotations, or had one for convenience. Could he even have grown one? I throw that final one in, as the last actor I cast as Jesus’ voice actor had only just started on testosterone.

Beards have a strange role in gender. Stroll through any art gallery and you’ll find vast amounts of hairy men and clean-shaven men. It’s *always* been a choice. Caesar, Napoleon, and St John? No beard. Shakespeare and van Gogh? A bit of a beard. Martin Luther, Marx and Darwin? Generous beard. The King of England? All over the place, really changing from generation to generation in any century you pick. But for some people, beard is the king of gender.

There’s a They Might Be Giants song which starts, ‘Why did you grow a beard? Why did you grow a beard? What the Christ? What the Devil? Why did you grow a beard?’ - it’s impertinently phrased, but I suspect many of us have had similar thoughts about somebody at some point. For years I tried to persuade my dad to grow a beard. When he retired and finally found the chance to grow one, nobody was delighted by the result. I thought he looked like Shipman or Freud, neither of which were good looks. My mum thought he looked like Corbyn, which personally I’d consider a plus, but not everybody shared that view. The beard went, after co-starring in a play. I had a friend who became a missionary to Russia. He grew a beard and I thought ‘what in the world!’ and years later he ungrew it again and I thought, ‘gosh, now I want the beard back’. The grass is always browner. Dear listener, it returned!

I’ve had a few beards. Yes, they itch, no they don’t help much in winter, yes they make kissing different, but primarily for the recipient. This time last year I was having my facial hair follicles burnt out with electrolysis, or more actually electrology. It’s more thorough than laser, and it hurts more, and takes a bit of patience. I stopped when the financial crisis came, but I’m content that I am now an smooth person, to the extent I need to be. I’m non-binary, and consider beards are for fun. For me, they’re not for life, they’re just for Christmas. Dear listener, I have embraced the world of fake beards. I’ve made some in the past out of cheap faux-fur fabric, with ear hooks made out of wire coat-hangers. Are they convincing? No sir, ma’am or notable pirate. But they are a joy for dressing up. Had Jesus had this technology, he could have matched all the hairy art, and that rarity, the beardless image of Jesus - as in many versions of Godspell, and the 1999 version of Jesus Christ Superstar.

But I’ve recently moved beyond faux fur beards. After a brief flirtation with real human hair moustaches on gauze. I’ve discovered a wonderful material named crepe hair, or wolcrepe - I have small packs of black, brown and pale grey hairs. I pick ‘em out and use spirit gum to adhere to my face in what pattern I fancy, and trim it to the style I’m after. I’ve used it in short films, but it really is something! Listener, anyone can have a beard, assuming they gingerly test to see if you’re allergic to spirit gum. I also recommend a little spirit-gum remover.

I haven’t made a beard in yonks, but I love that it’s an option. I wouldn’t want to incorporate one into my body. I can go for breasts and potentially a piercing but none so far, but making a beard one with my flesh would bring me no peace. But dear listener, dressing up is fun, and whoever you are, you can enjoy a beard if you want.

I am uncertain of the theological merits of this episode.