A much more enjoyable take on god

I was brought up in a Catholic household in the 50s and attended St. Bridget's elementary school from third through sixth grades. The nuns taught me everything I've ever needed to know about grammar and did a pretty good job of teaching me a lot of other things -- including the remarkable observation that when I misbehaved in class the thorns dug a little deeper into the baby Jesus's head! WTF?! Since when did the baby Jesus wear a crown of thorns?

I remember too the day when one of the kids put a thumbtack on another kid's seat. He screamed, we laughed, Sister Never-Smile chided us: "Go ahead and laugh, but let me tell you about poor little Johnny in my previous school. Someone put a tack on his seat and those students laughed too but then the wound became infected and nobody laughed when THEY HAD TO AMPUTATE HIS LEG!"

Jesus, Sister, terrorize children much?!

One thing I didn't learn from the nuns was the bible. Catholics back then were told not to read the bible. It was too difficult and too confusing. Father Never-Met-An-Altarboy-He-Didn't-Like would tell us what we needed to know. So it was that I never read much of the bible until my late fifties when I was briefly a member of the Episcopal church and a house group that met weekly to read and discuss the world's most popular book. I learned enough about "God" during those sessions to give up my faith completely.

Yesterday I attended a performance of The Mysteries, a spectacular theatrical event that tells the story from Adam and Eve to Paul -- everything you ever wanted to know about the bible while laughing your ass off. It was hysterically written, incredibly staged, beautifully acted, terrifically sung and amazingly choreographed in an area the size of two parking spaces.

Seriously. I've tried to give you an idea of the space. Each x is a seat; there were between 65-70 of them, that's all. The dark blue area is where the action was staged. Behind the second row of seats was a passageway where cast members often stood, or sang, or played instruments.The cast is 48. Forty-eight! It was a tight fit but never for a second felt uncomfortable.

Not even during the intermission, when we served dinner at our seats. Served. At our seats. Dinner. Incredible, and as far from any concept of dinner theatre you've ever before had in your head. At the second intermission we were served dessert.

And did I mention that the show is five and-a-half hours long? Well, if I didn't, that's probably because it felt half that length; it flew by.

And may I tell you that three hot men get naked? Well, bonuses galore.

When I see a show like this -- has there ever been a show like this -- and think of what the Topeka tourist sees when she comes for a "theatre" weekend in New York, I cringe. At the chandeliers. At the stuffed-animal actors. At the ear-splittingly loud scores. At the technical wizardry. For an antidote to all that wham-bam-dazzle-you-ma'am we are lucky to have The Flea in Tribeca, presenting one of the most original theatrical experiences you will ever come across. It runs til July 14. Get your butt to New York!