It is my honor and privilege to have accepted the post of Bishop of the First Church of the Last Laugh for our diocese. Our sacred creed is to worship mirth with light hearts and liquid refreshment. Having a sense of humor is more important to us than a sense of devotion to any imagined divine process. To us, divinity is fluffy, creamy candy made with stiffly beaten egg whites. We worship punch lines and pundits rather than a scary, paternal white-bearded figure tossing thunder bolts from the clouds on high. Heaven to us is the warm glow that comes from laughter and good company, not some winged harpist in an ethereal afterlife plucking monotonous cloud chords.
Our heroes are not theologians or bible thumpers but, rather, comedians. George Burns not only played God in the movie; to us he remains a kind of god. “I smoke cigars,” he once said, “because at my age if I don’t have something to hang onto I might fall down.”
We hold our services on Friday nights to celebrate the commencement of the weekend. The ladies bring canapés [Can o’ peas? What am I gonna do with a can o’ peas?] and the guys bring bottled relaxants. Each week, one of our members is designated to stand up and do a routine. It may be original or something from a well-known comic’s past show. It can be jokes, stories, truth or fiction, bawdy or clean, we don’t care. The only requirement is that it induce laughter. “Seriousness is the refuge of the shallow,” said Oscar Wilde.
The First Church of the Last Laugh has applied for tax exemption but thus far we haven’t heard back from the Treasury Department. I find this quite disturbing since we consider our comedic worship to be on a par with the sanctimony and reverence recognized in other churches. Plus, we avoid all the suffering, penance and confessional rigmarole that play such a large part in other religions. Having a sense of humor gives a feeling of tranquility that organized religion is powerless to bestow.
The writings we favor are apocryphal and supply belly laughs rather than soul calming. Serious subjects can only be considered if approached satirically or tongue-in-cheek. “I was thrown out of college for cheating on the metaphysics exam,” said Woody Allen. “I looked into the soul of the boy next to me.”
Anyone may attend the meetings of the First Church of the Last Laugh. Dress is as informal as our outlook on life. At our last session, several of our members became a trifle raucous during the evening’s routine. “I should warn you,” shouted the member providing the entertainment. “Underneath these clothes I’m wearing boxer shorts and I know how to use them!”
