A HIGHER POWER

Cannabis Church wants to be taken seriously while staying true to cause

On a Wednesday evening in a neighborhood some know as Dogpatch, the Grand Poobah prepares to deliver his gospel. Bill Levin, 68, strides down the aisle of the First Church of Cannabis at 3400 S. Rural St. A shock of white hair bobs side to side as Levin weaves between pews, telling each of the dozen or so congregants, “I love you,” before wrapping them in a bear hug. It’s nearly nine years since Levin — “Grand Poobah” is his preferred clerical title — gave his first sermon. The church received 501(c)(3) status in May 2015 and held its first service July 1, the day Indiana’s Religious Freedom Restoration Act became law.

Since before its creation, the church has faced obstacles. In 2018, a state appellate court dismissed its final appeal for members to partake of the “holy sacrament.”

So, Levin and his fellow “Cannatarians” fill their services in other ways. Levin gives a roughly five-minute sermon, then members take turns sharing concerns. Finally, everyone recites the “deity dozen,” 12 tenets that begin with “don’t be an a--hole” and end with an affirmation of marijuana as the “healing plant.”

The church could exist with fewer hurdles in another state, but Levin has no desire to leave.

“This is my home,” he said. “If my home doesn’t agree with me, I will change my home’s view.”

Levin believes he will live to see the day marijuana becomes legal in Indiana. For now, his church focuses on combating homelessness, although that can prove difficult. Levin said some food banks refuse to return his calls.

Still, he is determined to try. Despite what outsiders may think, Levin believes his goal is one most people can get behind.

“Try to make the world a better place, that’s all,” he said. “I’m retired. What the f— else am I gonna do?”

PHOTOS BY JOE TIMMERMAN/INDYSTAR Bill Levin, the Grand Poobah, dances before starting service March 13 at the First Church of Cannabis in Indianapolis. “We are the only religion in recorded history to have humor in our written doctrine,” Levin said at the beginning of his sermon. “All the other religions forgot that.”

Congregants watch as Bill Levin, the w Grand Poobah, delivers his sermon and makes announcements March 13 at the First Church of Cannabis in Indianapolis. “Hi, I love you, short sermon time,” Levin said. “We know the reason it’s short is because the best sleeps you ever take is during a long, boring sermon.”

Bill Levin, the Grand Poobah, smokes before the beginning of service March 13 at the First Church of Cannabis in Indianapolis. Despite the hurdles his church faces in the state, Levin has no desire to leave. “This is my home,” he said. “If my home doesn’t agree with me, I will change my home’s view.”