Sometimes, the only way to understand religion is to laugh at it.
Or so argues the first episode of stand-up comic Jim Gaffigan’s new show, aptly titled The Jim Gaffigan Show. The program had a bumpy road to production, but the first season is finally set to air this summer, and last week Gaffigan released the first episode for free on his website. In it, everyman Gaffigan plays a quasi-fictional version of himself, copy-pasting the funnier-version-of-my-life-as-a-comedian structure made famous by Louie, the show of fellow funnyman Louis C.K.
But while the show is likely to generate buzz among Gaffigan’s existing fanbase, its first chapter might also attract a few extra viewers for its elegant treatment of a notoriously difficult topic — faith. The episode opens with a simple premise: Gaffigan the character, who shares the Catholic faith of Gaffigan the comedian, picks up a large Bible at the request of his wife Jeannine (Ashley Williams), only to be photographed toting it around town by a devoted fan. When the photo ends up plastered across the front page of the Huffington Post, Gaffigan panics, telling his wife “I don’t want people to think I believe in God.”
“But you do believe in God,” she replies.
Gaffigan relents, but explains that faith is tricky for a public figure. “The perception is that people who believe in God are stupid,” he says. “Religion is iffy. Once you identify yourself as believing something, you open yourself to ridicule.”
What follows is a surprisingly funny examination of what that ridicule looks like, with the show’s writers exhibiting an impressively keen grasp of how the American media often portrays religion. As Gaffigan’s phone rings off the hook with requests about his faith, Jeannine notes, “The Washington Post wants to interview you, Joel Osteen wants to take you to dinner, and Richard Dawkins wants to debate you.” But Gaffigan — whose real-life counterpart has “sympathy” for conservatives but identifies as a Democrat — is forced to turn down a lucrative advertising contract from a conservative Christian business that would require him to be anti-gay. Frustrated, he tells his wife he could lose his audience — both the “crazy religious” and atheists — if he comes out too strong either way, and books a spot on The Daily Show to “explain exactly what happened.”
The perception is that people who believe in God are stupid. Religion is iffy. Once you identify yourself as believing something, you open yourself to ridicule.
But our bumbling hero’s TV appearance goes about as well as you’d expect. He clumsily tries to blame his wife for the Bible incident while downplaying his own faith, leading Jon Stewart to shout, “It seems that you are so concerned that people might think you have faith in something, that you are willing to nationally throw your wife under the bus!”
Gaffigan hemorrhages business deals as soon as the spot airs, triggering an epic montage of famous news personalities parroting conflicting criticisms of religious people. A CNN guest asks if having five kids means Gaffigan is treating his wife like a “baby machine,” then erroneously accuses him of hating Muslims. A pundit on Rachel Maddow’s show labels him an anti-Semite. Glenn Beck (yes, that Glenn Beck) praises Gaffigan’s Bible brandishing, but raises rumors of a homosexual affair. And Keith Olbermann decries his “hypocrisy” of trying to have it both ways, declaring the comic the “Worst Person in the World.”
The whole debacle concludes with Gaffigan desperately trying to reignite his stand-up career, only to have the culture wars follow him onstage: he is repeatedly interrupted by angry attendees shouting contradictory accusations about his faith — or presumed lack thereof — before being chased out into the street.
The extremes here are obviously overblown, and the show leans heavily on hyperbole for comedic effect. But like all good humor, the jokes orbit a kernel of truth: Gaffigan’s character doesn’t claim a political label other than being pro-gay, but liberal religious Americans — especially Christians — are well acquainted with his awkward religious dance. In a world where some hardline atheists and a vocal cadre of religious conservatives preach a false choice between faith and bigotry, the liberal church-goer is often caught between a political rock and a spiritual hard place. Scorned by the legacy and relentless advocacy of the Religious Right, they fear any affiliation with their conservative cousins, who dismiss their left-leaning beliefs as heretical or “misguided.” (e.g., most Republicans are still convinced President Barack Obama, an avowed Christian, is Muslim “deep down,” whatever that means.) Conversely, liberals sometimes hide their faith when navigating the progressive cultural spaces they call home, wary of triggering the fury of those who are wounded by or critical of religion. (For a sneak peak, check out the anti-religion comments that will inevitably populate the bottom of this post.)
Ultimately it wasn’t his faith, but his abrupt abandonment of principle that triggered his decline.
For (fictional) Gaffigan, this lack of a clearly defined cultural space means avoiding the subject altogether — better to keep one’s faith quiet, the show posits, than flaunt it about and risk mockery. Belief is simply too risky, too divisive, too prone to misunderstanding. But hidden in Gaffigan’s downward spiral is a more important lesson: ultimately it wasn’t his faith, but his abrupt abandonment of principle that triggered his decline.
This echoes the very different real-life experience of Ana Marie Cox, founding editor of the left-leaning political blog Wonkette, who caused a stir in March when she “came out” as Christian in a column for the Daily Beast. She told MSNBC she expected the announcement to evoke widespread criticism (as evidenced by the use the phrase “come out”), but was instead greeted with general acceptance.
“The reactions have been incredibly warm,” Cox said. “There has been some negativity … But for the most part, I’ve gotten a lot of support from across the aisle … I was proven wrong in a really, really great way.”
This may explain the ever-expanding number of progressive religious leaders who are proudly touting their faith these days. Whereas religious conservatives once dominated the news, Episcopal bishop Gene Robinson, Union Seminary president Serene Jones, prominent activist Rev. William Barber II and many other liberal people of faith are now familiar faces on major television outlets, all passionately making the case for an America that allows progressivism and religion to comfortably occupy the same space in popular culture.
It would also be impossible ignore the example of Pope Francis, who, while certainly not a rank-and-file American progressive by any measure, has nonetheless won the hearts of both liberals and conservatives — Catholic or otherwise — for making bold, faith-based claims in defense of the poor, immigrants, and the environment. And while liberal people of faith are increasingly proud of their religion, polls show they do so only with the caveat of not wanting to impose it on anyone else.
None of this is to say that progressive people of faith are a besieged group. Religious affiliation is waning in the United States, but ours is still an overwhelmingly Christian nation. Thus, being religious — especially Christian, regardless of one’s theological flavor — remains a profound point of privilege. Moreover, unease with simultaneously holding a strong faith and a progressive outlook is primarily an issue for white Christians, whereas people of color are historically more willing to invite you to church (or synagogue, or Friday prayers, or puja) one day and vote Democrat the next.
Still, there is something to be said for being understood, even as a punchline. Yes, Gaffigan’s show is far from perfect — a few of the jokes miss, its gay joke is cheap, and its engagement with race is suspect at best. But for millions of progressive religious Americans who are still trying to figure out how to balance their faith and politics, it’s likely to evoke more than a few chuckles — and maybe even a hallelujah or two.