The saying goes: don’t talk about sex or politics at parties because you might offend somebody. For the same reason, these identical topics, when handled with finesse, have proven more than perfect for comedy— a valuable art form all about the skilful creation, manipulation and release of tension resulting in a genuine connection with a generous audience—as is religion. Just kidding, religion isn’t an art form, it is THE art form, having built impressive followings and crowdfunding campaigns long before electricity, let alone social media. Joking about sex and politics out in the open has played a part in improving the quality of sex and the accessibility of politics by making them easier topics to talk about in mixed company. That’s why we need to make room for cracking jokes about religion in good faith by insiders and outsiders.
People can be sensitive about religion for some of the same reasons we are reluctant to talk about sex or politics. Who wants to reveal how little we are genuinely sure of, let alone admit to ourselves how irrationally we make our most intimate decisions? Who wants to remind everyone else that we’re all gonna die one day? I do, but only because it really is the best way to break the ice at baby showers I didn’t want to attend. Being able to joke about religion can make the religious experience better for believers, nonbelievers and those in between by demystifying the taboo and scrutinising religion’s strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats for the benefit of the community it serves. Joking about religion, by reminding the audience they are not alone, helps create an atmosphere where individuals who need to speak up to improve things, or decide they want to leave their faith can do so without fear or intimidation. Any organisation that claims to bring people into the light of truth but keeps their members in the dark by forbidding them from developing the critical thinking skills necessary to enjoy comedy that scrutinises sacred claims, deserves to be lampooned to death for the good of society.
The toughest comedy audience I ever witnessed was a nondenominational charismatic Christian congregation that was heavily invested in spiritual warfare—the idea that Satan and his minions literally roam the earth, looking for gullible souls to drag to Hell. I know this because I was a member of that church.
The gig had been arranged last minute by an out-of-town comedian trying to expand the Christian comedy circuit on a ‘spirit-lead’ cross country tour. The show immediately followed our Sunday night sermon in which our pastor urged us to repent of our sins while protecting our hearts and minds from the powers and principalities of Satan by putting on the belt of truth, holding up the shield of faith and wielding the sword of the spirit. By the time the comedian got on stage, err,stood next to the pulpit in our fully lit upside-down Noah’s Arc of a sanctuary, the audience was mentally dressed for a supernatural battle.
In my 23 years of doing stand up comedy, I don’t think I’ve seen any comedian bomb as hard as that guy did. None of the jokes got any traction because every word that came out of this thirty-something comedian’s mouth was being scanned for potentially demonic filth, impropriety and absurdity (for good measure) by a congregation anticipating Jesus to come back to rule the earth at any minute. We didn’t want to be caught laughing at Jesus when he came back. I know I didn’t, I was counting on Jesus to come back and cancel all my student loan debt. When the comedian tried to ingratiate himself with the congregation by claiming to have a good Christian wife and kids waiting at home for him, it backfired. The congregation squared it shoulders and leaned in as we began scanning and rescanning his words for more little white lies—the Father of Lies favourite kind. There was no way this guy was providing for his ‘family’ with his comedy career unless he made a deal with the devil, and we,the hyper-vigilant congregation, were too busy making sure Satan wouldn’t lead us astray to give the comedian and fellow believer the benefit of the doubt. It was such a missed opportunity for a rare connection within the community that wasn’t fear-based. Although, it is possible he was just a terrible comedian.
It is safe to say that by giving people like me an outlet to deal with the cognitive dissonance that accompanies extreme beliefs and ultimately the ability to leave them behind,comedy can save souls.
I am doing my show Spring Day: Exvangelical at Soho Theatre 6-8 January
