The funny thing about comedians is… well, everything, hopefully.
The first time I heard the comedian Pete Holmes speak, it was on his podcast, He was asking his guest if he thought it was game over when we die. I wasn’t sure if there would be a punchline. There was none. Just an eager conversation about consciousness, the eternal soul, Christianity, Hinduism, Sex, and hallucinogenic drugs.
It doesn’t take long listening to his “You Made It Weird” podcast, or watching any of his stand up specials to realize that Pete Holmes is an open book.
And he has a book, that you can open. So I did.
In addition to the many hours of podcast interviews and stand up specials with this man, I listened to his book, “Comedy Sex God”, with my wife on a recent roadtrip. I’m not sure exactly what got cut out, but Pete kept a lot in.
Mr Holmes’ candor is a little alarming. He has a bit in both his book and his first comedy special about being afraid of the rapture. Or specifically, a fear of Jesus returning from the clouds as he’s masturbating. Of the “second coming while he’s going for his first”, as he likes to refer to it.
If that makes you uncomfortable, you’re in good company. It makes me uncomfortable too. He places ideas and concepts next to each other that seemingly do not belong. He seems to radically accept that which sounds shameful. Things that most of us would keep seperate, if not hidden completely.
But that’s hardly abnormal for a comedian. Comedy often shines a spotlight on the absurd, the embarrassing, the taboo. The comedian is tasked with mining all the things we might think, but never say. And Pete Holmes is undoubtedly a comedian. After all, nervous laughter is still laughter, right?
Lots of comedians talk about religion and spirituality. When you’re looking for the seemingly absurd, religion is a deep well of material. Neither are comedians alone in these observations. As less and less of the population affiliates with organized religion, more and more people are speaking about about how strange and or harmful their experience of religion has been. And whether these voices identify as exvangelical or simply had a front row seat to the strangeness, they are now prominently (and understandably), nontheist or antitheist.
But Pete? Petey boy is a believer. Maybe even an evangelist. Sure, he won’t come a knocking at your door on a Saturday morning in his fresh pressed collared t-shirt and tie, nor will you find him on an inspirational cable TV channel on Sunday morning with an unnaturally wide smile and perfect teeth. But if you listen to his podcast, you won’t make it through an episode without an in depth conversation about the nature of reality, whether there is something more to us than our brains and chemicals, and what might happen to us after we die. Pete loves it. You can hear it in his voice. And after asking the same questions of every guest (most of whom are also staunch atheists), he never seems to tire of it.
Even in his youth, Pete describes being enamored with the question “what is this?”. THIS. The miracle of life, consciousness, meaning, direction. The whole shebang. THIS-NESS. Thinking and talking about THIS has been a driving force for Pete’s entire life. His Catholic and Protestant Christian upbringing, his loss of faith and identifying as an atheist, his trips on hallucinogenic drugs, his transcendental experience with a Hindu mystic and teacher, and his eventual reincorporation of his earliest faith have all come together to help Pete approach that one nagging question: “What is This?”. And while the answers have changed and evolved and expanded, the question never has.
Considering Pete’s candor and great honesty about his journey, I wonder how many believers would consider Pete’s path to the Divine illegitimate. Many of the churches I have known would teach a masterclass on how not to live based on Pete Holmes testimony. Many believers I have known would probably refer to his “belief” (quotations intentional and deriding) as a smorgasbord of spirituality. A little from over here, a bit from over there, pick and choose as you like. They would see his acceptance of hallucinogenic drugs and extramarital sex (that’s sex outside of marriage, not extra sex in a a marriage…) as moral relativism, a complete loss of absolute values.
I can still hear those chiding voices in my head because I have said those exact same things. I still have these same uninvited thoughts and judgments.
Imagine a fellow evangelist knocks on Pete’s door this Saturday morning. The man has his pressed white collared shirt, his suit and his tie. He holds a colored pamphlet outlining his church’s upcoming event, or theological stance on some philosophical concern. He smiles warmly as he extends the paper to Pete and expresses that God loves him and wants to know and be known by him. Pete breaks into an impossible grin, and responding exclaims “Fantastic, I’ll grab us some mushrooms. We can go hang out with God together!”.
The man, his smile fading, pamphlet withdrawing, removes himself from Pete’s doorstep with the final words, “you’re doing it wrong”.
And that’s the key, isn’t it? There is an instinctive sense that there is a right and a wrong, or a healthy and unhealthy way to do all things, including how we interact with the concept of the divine. Perhaps this is why we have hundreds, if not thousands (depending on your definition) of denominations within Christianity alone.
And this instinctive judgement is important! Not all beliefs are made equal. Even the most strident anti-theist would agree that some approaches are more beneficial or more disastrous than others.
So it’s easy to understand and even identify with the ones calling out the boundaries. The authority figures telling the Petes of the world that they’re doing it wrong. I understand those who hold apprehension and concern when it comes to such unexpected and taboo approaches and inclusions. I understand those who uphold the importance of orthodoxy. I understand the need for gatekeepers.
But here’s the thing about gatekeepers. Gatekeepers can get really, really focused on right and wrong, in and out, orthodox and heretical. They can become so focused on the correct process that they lose the purpose. Maybe they make the mistake of believing that their journey is the only journey. Maybe they begin to look for for certainty instead of surprise. when They lose their “what is this”?-ness.
I’m not saying that Pete Holmes found the secret sauce. I’m not a Holmes-etarian, or Holmes-ian. I’m not saying that the best way to interact with the Divine is a Catholic/ Protestant Christian upbringing, Christian college, sex shame, an early marriage to the first person you were physical with, the subsequent ending of that marriage due to neglect and infidelity, the adoption of atheism, the pursuit of a career in stand up, a hallucinogenic experience with mushrooms, a mystic experience with Ram Das, a series of sexual relationships aimed at removing previous sex shame, a reading of multiple works by Joseph Cambell, Richard Rohr and Rob Bell, and an eventual arrival at a ‘Christ leaning hindu informed belief’ in the divine.
(Whew. That’s a mouthful. I just saved you $15 dollars and between 6-10 hours, depending on your reading or listening speed. Just kidding. It’s a great read/ listen, and Pete is a comedian, so it’s laugh out loud funny).
Pete’s the first to say that people shouldn’t try to do it like him. And I’m pretty sure that Pete doesn’t care whether he’s doing it wrong. I’m pretty sure that Pete hears that his approach, his methods or his beliefs are wrong on a regular basis. Maybe from his parents, maybe from old acquaintances from years past, maybe from congregants of his old church that he visits on Easter or Christmas, maybe online.
I don’t think Pete cares if he’s doing it right, because he’s busy doing it. He’s asking the big questions that animate and excite him. He’s interacting with the divine. He’s trying to break out of a dualistic mindset. And he’s telling anyone who will listen about all of it. Warts and all.
Pete relates how when he was finishing up his book, his mom was excited because she could give it to her church’s pastor to explain her son’s journey, validate his roundabout way of returning to belief in Jesus, the Christ, and the bible.
Pete’s response? “Mom, it’s not for the pastor. It’s for people who lost their faith, but still catch themselves quietly alone in the car going, ‘what is this’? They’re not done.”
They’re not done. Not done with wonder, with meaning, with mystery, with awe.
And neither is Pete Holmes. Or you. Or me.
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