Table of Contents
ALSO BY LEWIS BLACK
Nothings Sacred
This book is dedicated to my parents, Sam and
Jeannette Black. You can blame them. If you do,
you will get a call from my mother.
And to all the others who watch over me.
Ron Black. Bill Foeller. Rusty Magee.
Laurie Beechman. Tommy Gardner.
Just give me one thing
I can hold on to
To believe in this living
Is just a hard way to go.
JOHN PRINE, Angel from Montgomer y
PREFACE
thou shalt have no other gods before me (except the one you believe in...)
I can think of no better place to write a book about religion than this, my ancestral homeland, Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where I attended the University of North Carolina as an undergraduate. None of my ancestors actually came from herethey all came from Russia and later settled in New Yorkbut I like to imagine that theyre from this place. Its less depressing. Russia in the original Russian means gathering of depressed people with a penchant for vodka as self-medication.
Several years ago I went to St. Petersburg, Russia, where some of my family was from, and I felt as if I didnt belong at all. It didnt look as if it had changed much since the early 1900s, when the pogroms there convinced my family to get the hell out. In these pogroms, organized gangs of Russians terrorized and killed more than a few Jews. My Aunt Sonia suffered six saber wounds during one of these attacks. Luckily, her sister, my grandmother, had come to America at the age of sixteen and made enough money to bring her here before a seventh saber wound could be delivered. I cant even imagine a time when people used sabers, let alone what would possess the Russians to go after my ancestors, who werent what one would call practicing Jews.
As I wandered the streets of St. Petersburg, I felt not even one root. Actually, it was kind of a dump. An amazing dump, filled with some spectacular pieces of architecture, like the Hermitage, but everything looked in desperate need of repair and a paint job. It looked like it must have looked in a nineteenth-century painting that someone had soaked in water for weeks. I dont think it was a really smart move for the Russians to have driven out the Jews; they would have been a big help. They sure know their real estate. Lucky break for me, thoughI was much happier in North Carolina than I would have been going to school in the Urals, or Vladivostok, or Shtuppengrad.
I felt absolutely at home in Chapel Hill from the moment I arrived from the suburbs of Washington, D.C., forty years ago. At the time it seemed strange that a Jew from up north would feel comfortable in the South, but Chapel Hill was a place where there were only a few folks left who thought the South had won the Civil War. Its one of the few spots on earth where I have felt comfortable in my own skin. I dont feel that way in many placeshence the very attractive series of twitches one sees in my stage act. Maybe its because I lived in Chapel Hill in a past life and if I scout around long enough Ill see my ghost wandering around the campus. (Maybe even in a crinolineJesus, what if I was a woman in my past life?) It is the first place I discovered my own voice and was able to take my first baby steps toward becoming a writera playwright, no less.
So to tackle a subject as complicated as religion, which I have no expertise in, I figured I would return to the place where I first found the words to express my point of view.
And then, of course, there is the inspiration provided by the vision of all the young coeds of my alma mater who fill the sidewalks with their loveliness and who are enough to restore ones faith in a just and loving God. But I digress... and as I stare longingly, I can feel the flames of hell lapping at my nutsack.
So why am I writing a book on religion? I wish I could tell you that God had appeared to me and commanded that I reveal unto the peoples of the earth all of his mysteries and that I was the Antichrist. (Now thats a cash cow waiting to happen.) But the Antichrist wouldnt write a book. Hed have a reality show and all sorts of digital downloads and hed leave mind-altering messages on cell phones.
Yet I noticed as I began to write that there has lately been a glut of books about religion. Atheists and true believers, critics of all stripes and defenders of the faith, they have destroyed hundreds of thousands of trees with their knowledge, research, opinions, and beliefs. (This is so typical of my life. I decide to write a book on religion and as soon as I sign the contract, the shelves overflow with new books on the subject from every imaginable point of view. And so, yet again is my belief in God undermined. WHAT BULLSHIT! I could see if I wrote a book on Iraq. We cant seem to get enough of those. Its like Chinese food. You can read all you want on the subject but within minutes of finishing a book you are hungry for more.)
I guess the flood of these theology books makes sense, with the excesses of violence committed in the name of God wherever you look and the obscene power of religion in politics, in our homes, and in our lives. Or maybe its just the growing sense that the world might end at any moment, which seems to hang in the air around us, like a late-afternoon thunder-shower. I guess this has sent the keyboards atwittering. Then, of course, there is the constant flow of books in which authors talk about their conversions.
So what am I, Lewis Black, stand-up comic and me of little faith, doing putting my two cents in about religion?
Because I think its taken too seriously, and anything that takes itself too seriously is open to ridicule.
What am I thinking? When you write about peoples beliefs, you are asking for it. Every page here has the potential to offend someone, somewhere, in perpetuity, throughout the universe. That doesnt even count the critics who will say it wasnt funny enough. Or serious enough. Or spiritual enough.
Religion? Funny? Youve got to be kidding. I am kidding, but its not going to be seen that way by everyone, which is exactly why youve got to keep poking fun at it. After millennia of religion being used as a club, either to scare the shit out of children or to send them to war, someones got to search for organized religions funny bone.
To put it as simply as I can: This is a book about my relationship with religion, where mydare I say it?spiritual journey has taken me. From the religious dead ends I have wandered down to the pinpricks of light I have seen and barely understood, its all here, in all its complicated and infuriating glory.
And all of this is just my opinion, the way I look at religion, what its meant and not meant to me. And why it makes me laugh.
So if religion has taken over your life and you dont want to think about it or laugh about it because it will upset you, DONT READ THE GODDAMN BOOK.
EVER.
AND EVER.
AMEN.
in the beginning
As I slowly reached consciousness, everything was a mystery waiting to be solved. Unfortunately for me, I wasnt much of a problem solver.
Who was this giant shoving a bottle in my mouth? Who was this other giant who wasnt around all the time but when he did show up would poke me? What were all these shapes and forms and sights and sounds? What the fuck was going on?
Even as a kid, a sense of unease pervaded my being. As I learned to differentiate between these gentle and somewhat nurturing giants and to say Momma and Poppa, much to the giants amusement, and as the routine of my daily life took shape and began to give me a simple understanding of what was around me, I also felt as if I was floating in a wet tissue that might tear at any moment.