What makes a comedian has nothing to do with religion. Think of

Hear now, O seeker of wisdom, the words of Buddy Hackett, a jester of his age, who once proclaimed: “What makes a comedian has nothing to do with religion. Think of Red Skelton, Jimmy Durante, Jackie Gleason, who were all Catholics.” In this utterance lies a truth that transcends both the stage and the temple. He reminds us that the fire of laughter is not born from creed nor chained by dogma, but arises from the beating heart of humanity itself. For the spirit of comedy is like the wind: it comes from nowhere, touches all, and belongs to none.

Consider, children of tomorrow, the men he named. Red Skelton, who clothed his jokes in innocence, a fool with the wisdom of angels. Jimmy Durante, with his gravelly voice and crooked nose, who taught that even imperfection could be a vessel of joy. Jackie Gleason, the “Great One,” who made kings and paupers alike clutch their bellies in delight. Though all three shared the mantle of the Catholic faith, their laughter did not spring from the altars of their religion, but from the deep well of their souls. They were not made comedians by their prayers but by their understanding of sorrow, their dance with struggle, and their gift of lightness in a world too heavy.

Indeed, reflect upon the nature of the comedian. He is no priest of doctrine, but a priest of the heart. His pulpit is not of stone but of stage. He takes the sufferings of men, the common aches of daily life, and turns them into mirrors of joy. When Rome was young, there were clowns and jesters who walked beside emperors, reminding them that power itself is absurd, and that death comes for all. Religion divides men into creeds, but laughter unites them into one chorus.

There is a tale, well worth the telling. In the dark days of the Great Depression, when hunger gnawed at bellies and spirits waned, a man once sold his last loaf of bread to buy a ticket to a vaudeville show. That night, under flickering lights, he heard Jimmy Durante rasp his famous line: “Everybody wants to get into the act!” The crowd roared, and in that roar, despair lifted for a moment. That poor man, though still hungry, walked home lighter than before, carrying not bread, but hope. This story is not about religion, nor creed, but about the divine power of laughter to heal the spirit.

Mark well, then, the wisdom of Hackett’s words. Religion may give men rules, rituals, and pathways to the divine. But comedy springs from another source: the eternal river of shared humanity. It rises from hardship, from the recognition of our own folly, from the aching desire to endure. A comedian is not sanctified by baptism nor crowned by faith; he is forged in the crucible of life’s trials, tempered by tears, and exalted by his ability to make others forget their suffering, if only for a breath’s span of time.

From this, let us learn. Do not measure a man’s worth by his religion, nor assume his art comes from his creed. See instead the universality of the gifts he brings. Whether painter, poet, or clown, the true measure lies in how deeply his work touches the soul of another. The heart recognizes sincerity more than doctrine, and the laugh shared among strangers is holier than a thousand sermons unheeded.

Therefore, I say to you: seek not to bind your talents with labels or to chain your creativity to dogma. Instead, cultivate your gifts with patience, with courage, and with love for mankind. If you have the gift of laughter, share it. If you have the gift of compassion, offer it. If you have the gift of art, pour it out like wine for the thirsty. Do not ask whether your gift aligns with faith or law, but whether it lightens the burdens of another soul.

Practical wisdom shall follow: observe life deeply, for comedy and truth hide in the smallest details. Practice empathy, for only he who feels the pains of others can transform them into joy. Speak bravely, for laughter is an act of courage against despair. And finally, remember this teaching: what defines your gift is not the church you attend, nor the creed you claim, but the light you kindle in the hearts of men.