I never heard of a biblical comedy-drama until seeing the trailer for the Jeymes Samuel film "The Book of Clarence." Samuel’s 2019 Netflix cowboy flick "The Harder They Fall" was extremely impressive, so I knew I would be somewhere, at some movie house checking his new work.

While sitting in a jet-black theater well after 10 p.m. on a weeknight, enjoying "The Book of Clarence" –– laughing embarrassingly at the age-old biblical references like "the amount of money sandals cost and how Jesus probably gets them for free because he's the Messiah” – I constantly found myself distracted.

The distraction had nothing to do with the writing, acting or the plot, as the film is full of humor and easy to follow – but my grandma Thelma “Fam-ma” Gill. Fam-ma was my biggest distraction. Fam-ma is not alive; we lost her in 1997, and no, I didn’t get a visit from her ghost. I was distracted because I kept wondering what she would say, if she saw me enjoying this movie, which may have been considered blasphemous back in the '90s.

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The film follows Clarence, (LaKeith Stanfield) and his best friend Elijah, (RJ Cyler), two poor Hebrew men in A.D. 33. The duo lose a chariot race due to various unforeseen circumstances. This puts Clarence in debt to a loan shark named Jedediah, who could potentially kill him if he doesn't settle up. In an act of desperation, also after experimenting with opium, Clarence comes up with a plan to fix all of his problems by imitating the most popular guy in Jerusalem who happens to be the savior, Jesus Christ.

“Wake up.” Fam-ma would say on early Sunday mornings, around 7 a.m. “Let’s go.”

My grandma was as smooth as steam-pressed silk. She did not have to yell or force us grandkids to come to church, because if we were not ready, then she was leaving on her own, and that rarely happened. We loved Fam-ma so much that we just wanted to be around her, so even though most of my cousins who stayed with her frequently thought church was boring, we would still go on occasion. And we felt like royalty when we entered the building because my grandma was a very respected woman in the house of the Lord.

She was one of the lead singers on the choir, a founding member, and made fried crabs that were so good, it wasn't strange to see the greedy reverend at our small dinner table on weekends. This may not sound like a big deal now, but having the reverend at your crib back in the '90s is equivalent to hosting the Obamas or Beyoncé today. Or maybe how a white person would feel about hosting Taylor Swift. Preachers, with their cash-stuffed pockets, processed hair, custom........

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