Excrement, Lies, and Laughter - Praying with Trevor Noah
Trevor Noah’s book Born a Crime, begins and ends in dialogue between Christian faith and skepticism. In the first chapter, Trevor tells a dramatic story about being thrown out of a moving vehicle and running for safety with his mom. The backdrop of this story is that it was a Sunday, and as Trevor wrote, “every Sunday in my childhood meant church.” Patricia, Trevor’s mother and primary relationship in the book, is a deeply pious Christian woman whose faith is expressed in expansive, communal, emotional, and intellectual categories. Trevor, on the other hand, is reluctant church attender, who if not outright skeptical from chapter one, nevertheless presses back against his mother’s commitment.
In the first dialogue of the book Trevor and his mom argue about the merits of going to their three different churches without the benefit of their car.
“It’s the Devil,” she said about the stalled car. “The Devil doesn’t want us to go to church. That’s why we’ve got to catch minibuses.”
Whenever I found myself up against my mother’s faith-based obstinacy, I would try, as respectfully as possible, to counter with an opposing point of view.
“Or,” I said, “the Lord knows that today we shouldn’t go to church, which is why he made sure the car wouldn’t start, so that we stay at home as a family and take a day of rest, because even the Lord rested.”
“Ah, that’s the Devil talking, Trevor.”
“No, because Jesus is in control, and if Jesus is in control and we pray to Jesus, he would let the car start, but he hasn’t, therefore—”
“No, Trevor! Sometimes Jesus puts obstacles in your way to see if you overcome them. Like Job. This could be a test.”
“Ah! Yes, Mom. But the test could be to see if we’re willing to accept what has happened and stay at home and praise Jesus for his wisdom.”
“No. That’s the Devil talking. Now go change your clothes.” “But, Mom!”
Arguments like these set the tone for the rest of the book. Trevor uses these dialogues for characterization as well as interrogating ideas. The contest is set. What’s the point of prayer, worship, or Christian devotion? Does it even matter? This question lingers throughout the book.
It’s a good question. As we are confronted with the overwhelming challenge of a global pandemic, job losses, and the vitality sucking rhythms of online interactions it’s worth asking, why are we doing this anyway? Does my, ‘showing up’ to a weekly event over Facebook live make any difference? And, just what does my participation in worship or prayer accomplish anyway?
Asking these questions allows us to see our Christian practice from, as Trevor says, “an opposing point of view.” As a devoted Jesus follower, I find Trevor’s question and perspective refreshing. His pointed critiques make fun of the performative and mercenary aspects of prayer and worship, not to mention the racist and colonial assumptions baked into our missionary history.
For example, Trevor, whose first language was English, describes the advantages this gave him within his family’s Christian practice. “I loved to pray…” “Everyone knows that Jesus, who was white, spoke English… The bible, was in English… Which made my prayers the best prayers, because English prayers get answered first. How do we know this? Look at white people, clearly they’re getting through to the right person.”
Laying bare these benefits Trevor helps us to see. Is it true that Jesus was white, spoke English, or supports the system of white supremacy? No! Is it true that these implicit assumptions conveyed a position of privilege for Trevor? Yes. So, why do we pray again? Is it to assert our place in the shifting hierarchy of our families and communities? Is prayer an attempt to twist God’s arm to do what we want, so that we can have the benefits of those in power?
Jesus explicitly taught that prayer was not to be performative in these ways. (Matthew 6:5) Jesus taught that humility before God was better than preening religiosity. (Luke 18:9-14) Despite this, our Christian practice is easily co-opted by the attempt to look good, establish ourselves, or secure blessing. As someone who is skilled with words and is steeped in more than one Christian tradition, I relate to Trevor’s experience. I too am invited to pray at events because of social status or rhetorical ability, not because my life is particularly holy, grace filled, or spiritually vital. If not careful, I can start to believe that these invitations to leadership are a sign of my Christian vitality, influence, or importance, and become the self-righteous Pharisee.
Praying with Trevor Noah helps us see through the façade. His humor enables us to laugh at the pride and self-importance that gets mixed in with our prayers, and to remember the teaching of Jesus. “Lord, have mercy on me, sinner that I am,” is eloquence enough. As are the inarticulate groans of frustration, anguish, grief, or fury that the Spirit enables us to bring to God.
Still, what’s the point of praying? Patricia, Trevor’s mom, says throughout the book, “I don’t pray for nothing…” Trevor isn’t convinced. After all, it seems like many of our prayers are exercises in futility.
Trevor teases out this dynamic in a story of his childhood in Soweto. A boy reluctant to go out in the rain to use the outhouse, Trevor decided to stay indoors and use a newspaper. His brilliant plan involved wrapping his excrement in the newspaper and tossing it into the family bin. When his mother discovered the paper she, and the rest of the family, interpreted it as a curse, a sign that someone had meant to bring a hex on the family. This meant calling for an emergency prayer meeting. Trevor, with his status as an eloquent prayer, was asked to pray. Trevor draws us into the childhood tensions of his prayer. “I knew that my prayers worked, so if I prayed to God to kill the thing that left the s… and the thing that left the s… was me…”
As I read this story and laugh at the incongruities, the deeper question about the greater purpose of prayer soaks through. There is no need for the family to fear a curse or for Trevor to fear divine retribution. This whole scene is much ado about nothing, and yet it exposes our superstitions. An unexplained phenomenon stirs the community to pray. Trevor knows there is no need to pray about the newspaper but is nevertheless afraid to say the wrong thing in prayer.
It’s perhaps a little too easy to laugh at Trevor’s family. How often are our prayer habits shaped by superstition? How often do we pray as though the purpose of prayer is to get God to uncross his arms and give us protection from uncertainty, evil, or suffering? How often are our prayers organized around our desires, provision, or blessing? Do we send ‘thoughts and prayers’ instead of actively engaging with the needs and vulnerabilities of our neighbors?
While celebrated for his compassion and ability to heal, Jesus promised that suffering, evil, and uncertainty were inevitable for his followers. (John 16:33) His explicit teaching on prayer focuses on preparing his followers to be active participants in his kingdom agenda. (Matthew 6:5-15, Luke 11:1-13) While not wholly absent from the Christian life, seeking God’s provision, protection, or blessing is subsumed within a larger purpose, to know God and to live as disciples of Jesus.
Praying with Trevor Noah reveals the superstition that masquerades as piety. His lies and laughter expose the hollow misappropriation of prayer as an attempt to get something from God, rather than as a context for relationship with God. It seems Trevor is aware of this dynamic. He ends this chapter with these words. “God I’m so sorry for all of this, I know this was not cool. Because I knew, God answers your prayers, God is your father, He’s the man who is there for you. He’s the man who’ll take care of you. When you pray, he stops and he takes his time and he listens. And I’d subjected him to two hours of old grannies praying when I knew with all the pain and suffering in the world, he had more important things to deal with, than my s...”
The argument between faith and skepticism resolves without decision at the end of the book. Trevor’s book concludes with the story of his mom being shot, his rushing to the hospital, and wrestling with his grief, anger, and potential financial ruin paying for his mom’s care might mean. Inexplicably, the gun misfired six times while Noah’s mom, Patricia, looked down the barrel and prayed. Only after the misfires, while attempting to run away, was she shot in the back of the head. Again, inexplicably, the bullet (though entering her head) missed all of the vital arteries and organs, including what appears to be a change in trajectory as the bullet was passing through her body. Trevor Noah writes:
I was going on about how insane the week had been. “You’re lucky to be alive,” I told her. “I still can’t believe you didn’t have health insurance.”
“Oh, but I do have health insurance,” she said.
“You do?”
“Yes. Jesus.”
“Jesus?”
“Jesus.”
“Jesus is your health insurance?”
“If God is for me, who can be against me?”
“Okay, mom.”
“Trevor, I prayed. I told you I prayed. I don’t pray for nothing.”
“You know,” I said, “for once I cannot argue with you. The gun, the bullets, I can’t explain any of it. So, I’ll give you that much.” Then I couldn’t resist teasing her with one little last jab. “But, where was your Jesus to pay your hospital bill, hmm? I know for a fact that He didn’t pay that.”
She smiled and said, “You’re right. He didn’t. But, he blessed me with the son who did.”
In the end Trevor Noah’s narrative leads us to the mystery of Christian devotion on the other side of skepticism. Praying with Trevor Noah calls us to turn from corrupted, colonialist, visions of who God is. Praying with Trevor Noah enables us to see the superstitious and social posturing just the other side of our piety. Praying with Trevor Noah leads us to wonder at the mystery of life, of love between mother and son, and of the presence of God in the midst of the tragic as well as the comic.
Perhaps this fresh perspective is precisely what we need.