Living Biblically Sells Its Source Material’s Soul to the Devil
Photo: Michael Yarish/CBS TV Features Living Biblically
When you think about all the various sects, denominations, and interpretations of Christianity, it’s not hard to understand how two stories about men living by the Bible’s rules are so different. What’s harder to swallow is how Living Biblically completely undermines its source material’s point and alienates viewers of all levels of faith.
This seemingly insane premise comes from A.J. Jacobs, an editor at Esquire, who wrote (and lived) The Year of Living Biblically: One Man’s Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible as a personal expedition to explore the idea of faith in his life.
Jacobs is a bit of an experiential journalist, immersing himself in crazy experiments (like reading all 32 volumes of the Encyclopædia Britannica) and documenting the results, which only works because of his earnestness and honesty (even when the latter sometimes undermines the former). The CBS series that draws its inspiration from his book might maintain the letter of the premise’s law—like obeying The Ten Commandments, being fruitful and multiplying, etc.—but abandons the (holy) spirit.
The series’ protagonist is Chip (Jay R. Ferguson), who is—in the craziest career assignment of any sitcom lead—a film critic for a New York paper. That means he’s at one of maybe two outlets, since he’s not A.O. Scott of the New York Times. In the two episodes I got to see of the series, Chip did not mention movies, which is the opposite of all the New York film critics I know. But let’s put that aside for now. Chip’s reasons for undertaking the quest aren’t quite the same as Jacobs’. The author went in to learn about religion, to learn about how it’s used and abused, and to learn about himself. Chip is seeking self-improvement and salvation in the wake of tragedy.
This already colors the series in a broader shade than its source. That’s perhaps to be expected because Living Biblically, executive produced by The Big Bang Theory’s Johnny Galecki, follows many of the same conceits as TV’s highest-rated comedy—just replacing all the science gags with religious ones. I think they may even use the same laugh track, one that plays every ten seconds, independent of jokes.
Where the book was very personal and introspective—watching someone interrogate an aspect of life he never understood, but that huge swaths of those around him took for granted—the TV series is as generic as it gets. The rules Chip follows aren’t always hanging over each anecdote because he shares the show with so much more that waters it down.
Most of Chip’s co-stars don’t merit a mention aside from his God Squad, Father Gene (Ian Gomez) and Rabbi Gil (David Krumholtz, who is an incredible deadpan blessing), but they’re the sitcom figures you’re familiar with—they live at work and at the bar, barely running into the religious aspect of the show. It’s like creator (and 2 Broke Girls, Crashing and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia alum) Patrick Walsh saw the premise and said, “Cool, slap it on King of Queens.” In fact, Living Biblically just takes normal sitcom tropes and plotlines, then pushes Christianity in anywhere it’ll fit. And many places, it won’t.
Chip’s astrophysicist mother-in-law drops by and, while we savvy TV viewers already assume she’s no fan of him (she’s not), he’s warned that she’s also no fan of the Bible. In fact, she harasses Chip about his Biblical ways, asking if he’s cured leprosy or can turn water into wine. Atheists in this universe seem to have a misapprehension that people who read the Bible may, in fact, be Jesus. She “has a hard time understanding things” not based on direct observation, which makes me believe that perhaps the series’ writers didn’t really bother doing much of anything in terms of research. And thus, a seed is planted that will be familiar to anyone who’s ever seen a faith-based film or turned on conservative news during the holiday season: Willful misunderstanding, culprit number one of the faux-victimization of religious folks, is here in full force.
The book is one that is ultimately seeks knowledge without assuming any answers or presenting any conclusions other than that which the author feels or notices in his life. The series has God save Chip and his officemates from a stuck elevator (and his villainously atheist mother-in-law from a heart attack) thanks to the power of prayer, though none besides Chip are moved by the miracles in lasting ways.
This positions the mainstream version of the show not as a project where an outsider looks into religion for the purposes of enlightenment, but where an outsider’s experiment is again and again proven correct (sometimes in the narrative, sometimes with things as little as a joking light from above shining on Chip’s head) in a world that’s moved past religion. That makes it more God’s Not Dead than Super Size Me. A network sitcom in which the culture’s predominant ideology is presumed to be atheistic—or at least theistic with a whole lot of doubt—seems like a pretty big leap of faith when a game show called The American Bible Challenge recently ran for three seasons.
Then again, the series also undercuts religion—it’s deeply cynical and strange, selling the religion in its prepackaged comedy. By contrast, the book is deeply earnest and strange, full of unexpected results—which allows its found faith to grow beyond its stunt-like origins. Jacobs fights against his new rules, and not just the ones about stoning adulterers. His relatable struggles to stop stealing (extra condiments at fast food joints and coffee accoutrements count!) and staring in the mirror (vanity, it’s a sin!) are just as affecting as when things stick, like his growing appreciation for prayer.
Jacobs’ journey revealed how crazy it feels to take anything too literally, while the series ignores this for Chip’s smug victories over the foolish modern nonbelievers and easy, commodified morsels of picked-and-chosen scripture. As a series-long version of the 30 Rock joke where vacuous bacchanalian Tracy Jordan becomes Catholic so he can be immediately forgiven for any sin, Living Biblically simultaneously adores religion and cheapens it.
There’s no tangled journey that juggles the Bible’s rules about tithing and the prohibition on images (of anything), only the easy answers and immediate rewards. Well, as immediate as a half-hour comedy with A- and B-plots can be. And that’s somehow more frustrating, for believers and doubters both, than falling completely on one side or the other. By being as safe as possible, Living Biblically offends the senses as broadly as its humor aims. That makes it not only a bad show, but one that takes someone’s interesting experiment and, ironically enough, sells its soul to the Devil.
Living Biblically airs Mondays at 9:30 p.m. on CBS.
Jacob Oller is a writer and film critic whose writing has appeared in The Guardian, Playboy, Roger Ebert, Film School Rejects, Chicagoist, Vague Visages, and other publications. He lives in Chicago, plays Dungeons and Dragons, and struggles not to kill his two cats daily. You can follow him on Twitter here: @jacoboller.