I'm not Judeo-Christian, so I don't fully understand the Patience of Job. But as a movie fanatic, I get what the Silence of Bob is all about. I understand why Clerks was made in black and white--because it was an instant classic.

With the "New Jersey trilogy" ending on a high note with Chasing Amy, what could Kevin Smith do to make him more of a god with all the twentysomething wannabe directors? Silent Bob had to make a movie about God, of course.

When Dogma opened in Catholic St. Louis last week, I was hoping I would have to fight through protesters to sneak into the first matinee. But I wound up going to a theater where, as luck would have it, people were open-minded. The crowd, from those twentysomething wannabes to senior citizens, all received the film with laughs. I only wish I could get some of those inside Bible jokes.

And Smith's effort deserves those guffaws--with his tag-team buddy Jason Mewes, the duo of Silent Bob and Jay outdo those hunky cherubs of Hollywood, Matt and Ben.

Ben and Matt aren't so cute in Dogma. They're hell's angels (Barnaby and Loki) who want to raise hell on earth and buy a stairway back to heaven, because heaven isn't a place on earth--whew, all the other worldy cliches are out of the way. So Jersey calls, and they take the sin out of Wisconsin. There's one catch--oh yeah, the world ends if they make it to Heaven.

So it's up to abortion-center worker Bethany (Linda Fiorentino), the last descendant of Jesus, to play proxy savior while God's got one hand in his pocket. Along the way, the road trip from Chicago to Jersey takes on Muppet Movie proportions in diversity--along for the ride are the black apostle Rufus (Chris Rock), Silent Bob and Jay, and Serendipity, the stripper/muse (Salma Hayek).

As we see the journeys of good and evil, we get Silent Bob's loud take on the principles of Catholicism. Even the riotously funny lines, often spouted by Jay, have practical reasoning behind them. Even when a "shit demon" happens, it doesn't seem like an odd creation, once you get an explanation.

Before Bethany tries to grasp her task at hand, she first has to grasp a purpose for her anti-Armageddon actions. She's trained in the Jedi arts by Metatron (Alan Rickman), and learns the way of the force of God.

Our heroes are worth caring for, and we care so much that we want to see Matt and Ben--God forbid--come to their timely demise. Isn't that ironic?

The Seinfeld-Tarantino era (n. an epoch where meaningful conversations about minutia combined with violence never fail to entertain) of filmmaking is well upon us, and Smith is a master of the domain. The bloodshed in Dogma is a parallel to a Biblical scourge.

There's never been a line uttered by Silent Bob (the few he gets) or Jay (in his many observations) that didn't matter. Metatron says in the film that what most Americans know about Christianity comes from Charleton Heston movies.

For me, that rings true--that's how I learned what the Ten Commandments ("Oh, so those are different from the Bill of Rights?") and bulrushes were. So, I guess I trust Silent Bob to give me a crash course in Sunday School, even if it's in the form a not-so fractured fairy tale.

When I think Four Horsemen, I think of the legendary Notre Dame backfield. The Apocalypse reminds me of the smell of napalm in the morning. I couldn't tell Sodom and Gomorrah apart from Cleveland and Pittsburgh--but then again, a lot of people have that problem.

I doubt I will ever read the Bible at my leisure in my lifetime -- I'm more likely to pick up Grisham before something placed by the Gideons. My interest wouldn't be for a religious experience--I just need to be ready to impress people on New Testament Daily Doubles.

Secularly speaking, Smith's musings are entertaining, often humorous and thought-provoking--that's all I look for in my average conversation or blind date. It doesn't mean I want to take that Job and shove it, but it's all about Bob for me.