At a University Guide retreat in the admissions office a few years ago, each staff member was asked to reveal something about themselves that most people didn’t know. Susan Klopman, Elon University’s vice president for Admissions and Financial Planning had something to share.

[quote]When I’m a clown, I’m not a vice president and when I’m a vice president, I would hope you’d say I’m not a clown. -Susan Klopman, vice president for Admissions and Financial Planning[/quote]

Her colleagues were surprised to learn that Klopman was a clown – a liturgical clown, who reenacted scripture.

Most people would not expect the petite, blue-eyed woman in the wood-paneled corner office of Powell to be a clown in her free time.

But Klopman was the first to admit her hobby is out of the ordinary.

“You hardly expect a vice president to confess to being a clown,” Klopman said.

According to Klopman, a friend asked her to go a liturgical clowning workshop about 15 years ago. She agreed, and much to her surprise, she loved it.

“It’s a transformative experience,” Klopman said. “You do not recognize yourself so you’re completely free.”

For Klopman, liturgical clowning was no joke. It was a meaningful religious tradition.

“Liturgical clowning is basically miming,” said Klopman. “We mime an act we find in scripture.”

The tradition dates back to the ninth and tenth centuries when “divine interpreters” would pantomime Bible stories. Liturgical clowns are silent and must therefore express God’s message nonverbally. When churches became more formal, clowns largely declined from services. But the tradition is still alive in some congregations.

“It’s a wonderful internalization,” Klopman said, “having to think through a profound expression in scripture and interpreting it without words so that an audience can learn from it.”

Although liturgical clowning was a significant part of Klopman’s life, she made sure to keep her personal life separate from her professional endeavors.

“You literally stop and shift,” Klopman said. “When I’m a clown, I’m not a vice president and when I’m a vice president, I would hope you’d say I’m not a clown.”

Ashley Pearson, assistant director of Admissions at Elon, was surprised initially, but has come to reconcile Klopman’s hobby with her extroverted personality.

“She is witty, young-at-heart, fun-loving, and fits perfectly as a jovial clown,” Pearson said.

Cindy Barr, assistant dean of Admissions at Elon, is also supportive of Klopman’s alter ego.

“I’ve always considered Susan a mentor and role model,” Barr said. “Of course, when I stop and think about Susan’s way of putting people at ease and making others feel welcomed and included, it really fits.”

After hearing about her pastime, Richard McBride, Elon’s former chaplain, asked her to participate in chapel services. She was happy to do so, but it has been years since she has performed her clown act at Elon. In fact, Klopman said she has not found much need for liturgical clowns in the past few years.

“I would love to do it more,” Klopman said. “There’s just no work.”

After working at Elon for 27 years, Klopman plans to retire at the end of this academic year and intends to get certified as a master gardener, take cooking classes and visit her grandchildren.

“Most of all, I want to take a nap and enjoy life without a schedule,” Klopman said.

Elon is about to lose a dedicated, upbeat member of its family who also happens to be a clown. Talk about some big shoes to fill.