My local progressive friends fairly spit when I say God bless Sunday morning TV. Most give evangelical broadcasting about as much credence as prime-time Fox News. I’m sympathetic, given we live in the first notch (but not quite buckle) of the Bible Belt, but spitting over a television program seems excessive. I press on.
Yes, I say, the theology and politics behind most of the programming are atrocious, even harmful. Yes, I say, the praise bands drone on and on with insipid hook lines Meatloaf could’ve penned. Yes, I say, there’s those end-of-show “open your jeans and pull out them greens” in the name of the Lord.
But, I say, I have two otherwise sane neighbors — and probably so do you — for whom those programs are a weekly ritual not to be missed. My words not theirs, but it’s all about sustenance and community. And prayer.
I say, these are the same neighbors who joke with me, tell me the occasional guilty secret, and generally look out for me on a not always safe block. They’re more than whatever once-removed story we’ve assigned them, I say. More than “lower-caste Appalachians” we call when the sewer main gets backed up.
My neighbors’ Sunday morning television preferences pose no direct threat to my well being, nor those of my liberal crowd. It’s true viewers of such programs trend Republican by nearly 3 to 1, but that would also apply to damn near every officeholder in southeast Ohio. So, what is it about those shows that evokes such strong responses in progressive ranks?
First, the history of Christian televangelists in America is fraught with saints and sinners — the latter making for much better press than the former. The figures who’ve strayed from the path by way of financial crimes, sexual harassment and infidelity, false claims or general smarminess have sullied their entire profession.
Second, televangelism (Catholic as well as Protestant) has been primarily allied with conservatism since it’s inception circa 1952. Televangelists have been enlisted in the service of wars, racism, homophobia, political agendas and elections. Clearly the office has been co-opted by too many conservatives for too long. Within and without.
Third, progressive elitism often eclipses the human element. In our circles, televangelism is widely viewed as preying upon the vulnerable and ignorant; but here in this broadband desert with an aging, under-resourced population, opportunities for community are limited and fleeting. Real faces and real voices count for something, even if they’re not in the room.
Last, televangelism is undergoing a robust generational shift, and it’s for the better. Boomer preachers spewing vitriol and veiled nationalism are increasingly fewer, opening the door for the more casual, topical, relational worship of Millennials and Gen. Zs. Sound theology and biblical scholarship still go wanting, but any move away from a fickle-parent belief system is a good thing.
Given these dynamics, it’s understandable why televangelism barely registers on the radar of most progressives, save for the occasional soundbite issued by some hater with a pulpit. That’s unfortunate — not because we’re likely to find sustenance and community there — but because we’re secure enough in our values and beliefs to learn some more about those who do.
Don Rollins is a retired Unitarian Universalist minister in Jackson, Ohio. Email donaldlrollins@gmail.com.
From The Progressive Populist, June 15, 2023
Blog | Current Issue | Back Issues | Essays | Links
About the Progressive Populist | How to Subscribe | How to Contact Us