Is My Bow Too Big? How I Went From Saturday Night Live to the Tea Party (29 page)

One Christmas, an idea popped into my head: I gave each cast member
The Bible On Cassette
. I figured I couldn’t explain all the wonderful things I knew about God and His redemption plan in a short chat on the set, or in a hallway. But if my cast members were driving home for Christmas in their new
Porsches
and
Jaguars
, they could slip a cassette in the dashboard (cassette players in cars was the big new thing in the 80’s). Though it would be unlikely they were curious enough, maybe they would hear God’s Word all the way home—maybe even all the way from
Genesis
to
Revelation
. I wrapped the boxes and put them in front of each cast member’s dressing room door. One cast member returned hers with a nasty note on it: “I already have one!” Apparently, I’m not the only one concerned for her soul.

It’s amazing how the name of Jesus brings so much tension into a room, unless it’s a curse word. Just the fact that people use His name when they hit their thumb with a hammer, instead of Buddha’s, or Mohammed’s, or Joseph Smith’s, suggests it possesses some kind of spiritual significance. Jesus hits a nerve. Maybe it’s because he claimed to be God.
¹

History proves Jesus existed and most people agree He was a good rabbi, teacher, or prophet. But, as C.S. Lewis points out, he can’t be both a good man
and
claim to be God. Such a claim was a radical pronouncement and punishable by death in those days. He was either the Lord, or a liar, or a lunatic.

Not only is the divinity of Jesus the basis of my religion, but it is the foundation for my political stance. If He is God, I can trust His teaching to be truth, and I can build my entire understanding of the world on Scripture.

Following Jesus is different than following any other religion because He died to save us. All other religions require me to do something to earn my salvation. Jesus said,
You can’t be perfect enough to enter God’s holy presence. I’ll pay the price for you.
That’s love. Real love. It’s the greatest love story ever told.

One day at
SNL
, Al Franken took me aside in the hallway and said, “I want to tell you something. It really offends me that you act so ditzy. I heard you at the meeting and you’re really smart.”

How do you respond to that? I was caught off guard. I was also was hurt because I hate “fakeness.” I’ve always thought my strongest characteristic was honesty, even to the point of obnoxiousness. My cheeks turned bright red. I sputtered, “Oh, well, I hate fakeness. I can’t help it if my voice sounds ditzy, but maybe my happy or loopy behavior is because I’m overcompensating. Because what I’m really thinking is everyone here is dying and going to hell and I’m supposed to tell them about Jesus.” It just slipped out.

Overall, I felt that Al and everyone else at
SNL
respected me. My faith was not an issue. I did feel hatred from a handful of people. Jan Hooks mentioned me in
Live from New York
. She said, “Victoria Jackson? I thought she had a pretty good gig. I have a particular repulsion to grown women who talk like little girls. And she’s a Christian. I don’t know—she was like from Mars to me. I never really got her.”

Back when I was a typist in the University of Miami’s Medical Department, two specialists asked me if they could examine my throat. Their conclusion: “Congenital Palatal Insufficiency.” I have a different theory. I think that since gymnastics delayed the onset of my puberty, it may have delayed my voice too. I don’t know. TV’s Dr. Drew Pinsky once told me his opinion: “You are trying to please your father, so you are trapped in a little girl voice.” When Miss Mullins told me I couldn’t be in the senior play in high school because I was talking like a little girl to get attention, I asked her how to change my voice.

She said, “I don’t know. Pretend like you are walking down a flight of stairs and lower the tone with each step.” I practiced this for years. I couldn’t figure out how to retain my personality while speaking low. It always came out monotone. At
SNL
, while struggling to find a “character,” I used the low voice on the Update Desk when I ripped a blonde wig off and said, “I just can’t take this stupid, dumb, Victoria-airhead-thing anymore. I’m a serious actress and it’s making me sick: the poems, the hair. The thing is, people buy it! Go figure!” When Dennis Miller tried to interrupt me, I barked, “Shut up!” What a funny reaction I got from that little bit! Even my dad called me the next day and said, “Vicki, that was really scary. I’ve known you your whole life, and for a minute, I didn’t know who you really were!”

The problem is the low voice hurts my throat. I think I only mastered it after years of secret smoking.

One morning, I found myself in Chicago on the radio with Mancow. He is a Howard Stern-like DJ. Also on the show were a midget and a fat guy. They were all talking about strippers. I was there to plug my stand-up comedy show at
Zanies
. On the air, Mancow suddenly said something like, “Oh, but you’re one of those religious good girls, so you wouldn’t know.”

I said “Well, I’m not religious,
per se
. The word ‘Religion’ is from the Greek word
re-ligio
, which means ‘to bind back to God,’ thus inferring good works for salvation.
Ephesians 2:8-9
says, ‘For by grace are ye saved through faith, and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God, not of works lest any man should boast’.”

Mancow said, “Yeah, well, I was raised in church and all, but I just don’t get one thing: what about the guy in Africa who never heard about Jesus? You mean to tell me he’s going to hell? I just can’t believe in a God who would do that!”

Boom.
He just throws one of the hardest theological questions of all time at me on live radio. Minutes are ticking by. I have to answer. There are millions of people out there listening and I have the opportunity to talk about Jesus on the public airwaves. My mouth froze, but my brain started praying.

“Uh.”

“I’ll let you think about that,” said Mancow. “We’ll get back to you.” So they started talking about strippers again. Minutes kept ticking. I kept praying. Suddenly, with about one minute to go, I get this “God whisper,” as Margaret Feinberg calls it. Mancow says, “We’ll see you tomorrow. Victoria, did you come up with that answer yet?”

This sentence suddenly burst into my brain and I let it out, “We are responsible to the degree God has revealed Himself to us!” And with that we were off the air.

I think of Paul on the road to Damascus. Christ came to him as a blinding light and a loud voice: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Paul fell to the ground blinded. Some people in a jungle may only know Christ from looking up at the stars in awe. Maybe they seek Him. I have heard God’s Word since I was a child. Meanwhile, babies are aborted and meet God without ever setting foot on the earth. God has revealed himself to us all differently and individually.

I never really knew who the real Phil Hartman was. He was hard to know, but one day I had the urge to enter his private office and have a chat. I had my baby Scarlet on my hip. I asked him with what religion he was raised. He replied, “Episcopal.”

I said, “My dad was raised Episcopal, but he didn’t learn anything about Jesus there.”

Phil changed the subject. I could tell he was uncomfortable, so I didn’t push it. Phil’s untimely death made me bolder to tell my friends about Jesus. I sent Jon Lovitz a Jewish tract in his Christmas card. Now he brings up the topic whenever I see him. Once, we were in Atlantic City doing stand-up comedy together with Kevin Nealon head-lining. We were all in my hotel room along with my husband and kids. We had a big show in a couple hours. We were just hanging out. Suddenly, Jon goes, “You can’t be Jewish
and
Christian. It’s like oil and water. They don’t mix.”
²

I said, “What?! Jesus was Jewish, the disciples were Jewish, Mary was Jewish, everyone in the Bible is Jewish! It’s the most Jewish book in the world!”

Jon goes, “Well, I don’t see how a grown man can go back inside his mother’s womb and be born again!”

I jumped into the air with excitement! “Jon, you just quoted Scripture!” I ran to the drawer and pulled out the
Gideon Bible
and turned to
John 3.
I didn’t even know that I knew that the story of Nicodemus was right there. I said, “Jon, read out loud right here.”

I grabbed my video camera and recorded Jon reading:

There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews; this man came to Jesus by night and said to Him, “Rabbi, we know that You have come from God as a teacher; for no one can do these signs that You do unless God is with him.” Jesus answered and said to him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Nicodemus said to Him, “How can a man be born when he is old? He cannot enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born, can he?” Jesus answered, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.”

While listening, I was thinking,
This is my mission field
.

God talks to people. Sometimes He talks through prayer and Bible study, sometimes through people, circumstances, dreams, visions, songs, and nature. We have to measure each thought against Scripture to see if it’s from God. But if you know God, you can tell if it’s His voice or the enemy’s voice that you are hearing.

I don’t speak in tongues. Singing in church, I only lift my hands waist level. I don’t want to make a scene. Three times I’ve heard God speak to me pretty loud. The first time was in the hippie house, where God whispered audibly in my ear, “Be not unequally yoked…” I disobeyed Him, married A.F.K.A.S., and paid the consequences. The second time God talked to me was on a beach in Venice, California. I was very unhappy in Miami; I missed my career in LA. It was a constant thorn in my side. I was in LA for the sequel to
Speed
(the one that flopped). I was auditioning for the role of the cruise ship entertainment director. I had to improvise what I would do if the ship was sinking. I made the tourists hold hands and pray. I guess the director didn’t like my improvisation.

I missed my 9 a.m. flight from LAX back to Miami. I never miss planes. I had to kill three hours until the next plane, so I went to my brother’s architect office on Venice Beach. He couldn’t meet with me until his early lunch break, so I took a walk on the beach. I never do that because of my childhood repulsion to beaches, but it was morning: no naked people were there. I sat in the sand looking over the vast expanse of water and started talking aloud to God. I looked like all the other weirdos who talk to themselves up and down the boardwalk. For forty-five minutes, I poured out my heart. I told God every little thing. I told Him that I loved my family, but I missed my career. Why couldn’t I have both at the same time? Life is short. Couldn’t He get Paul a helicopter job in LA? If He gave me a gift and I couldn’t use it, what was the point? My tears poured into the sand. Finally, I ran out of words. A moment passed. Then, I heard God talk and we had a conversation.

“You want to control your life,” God said.

“Yes, I do.”

“Or I could control your life.”

“I’m doing pretty good so far. I’m rich, famous, and I have a happy family.”

“You want to control your life,” God repeated.

“Well, I am broke and out of work. I did get divorced and I’m drinking too much. I’m miserable all the time and I have a hangover…”

“Or, I could control your life. I, the God who made this ocean you are looking at, so vast that you can’t see the other side; who made all the strange creatures in it; the people walking behind you, and the babies that came out of your body, I started their hearts beating. I could control your life.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. Resigned and at peace, I said, “Oh. Okay. Control me. How does this work? Like a puppet? I have to pick myself up and make my body walk somewhere, you know.”

“Go home and love your family,” said God. “And I’ll tell you what to do.”

It was like
Mission Impossible
. I had instructions and God was gone in a puff of smoke. I stood up from the sand shivering with energy. I ran back to my brother’s office and told him, “God talked to me!” His face reflected the glow from mine. “I believe you,” he said. “I can tell!”

I flew home and told my husband and children. I repeated the story to them word for word. They smiled gently. Their eyes said, “Finally, she realizes what we’ve known all along. We are her career.”

Soon after that, I got a call from Kevin Nealon asking me to open for him in Las Vegas. I hadn’t spoken to him in five years and I didn’t have a stand-up act. Paul and I were broke at the time (from my divorce with A.F.K.A.S.) and I had no acting jobs. The only auditions in Miami are for
Telemundo
, and fluent Spanish is required. This led to a stand-up career where I only left my kids one weekend a month, but could bring home enough money for us to afford a house, and private Christian school for the kids. Because Nealon’s agent was now my agent (and also Bill Maher’s agent), I suddenly found myself on Bill Maher’s
Politically Incorrect,
quoting
Ephesians 2:8–9
. He had me back many times, probably because I was a good foil for his God insults. We were complete opposites. I was publicly outed as a Christian for the first time on his show.