Evangelism
and Entertainment
Recently,
erstwhile evangelist Marjoe Gortner made the news again. He had for a
moment reassumed his prophetic mantle. Only this time he posed not as a
Pentecostal healer, but as the "Mad Prophet of the Airwaves,"
recapitulating the "Howard Beal" role in Network on the
short-lived NBC show Speak Up America. He railed against the
sinners, he whipped up the crowd. Alas, the show became less interesting
and the ratings killed it when Marjoe began to settle back into the
conventional style of a TV host. But for a while we were reminded of his
“Damascus-Road-in-reverse,” his cinematic repudiation of evangelism some
years before in the film Marjoe. It's probably safe to surmise
that most people write him off as a curiosity. Born Again Christians
tend to dismiss him as an embarrassing black sheep to be prayed for, or
a pernicious false prophet (though in a striking show of charity, Bob
Larson conceded he probably wasn't demon-possessed!). 1 But
to write Marjoe off is to miss the valuable lesson he has to teach us.
In the era of the "Electric Church” and the Born-Again media blitz, his
prophecy comes through loud and clear: Evangelical ministry is such that
whether the preacher really believes in it or not doesn't matter! In the
movie Marjoe, the ex-evangelist explains that revivalism is just
entertainment. The people wanted a splashy, fun extravaganza, and for
money he gave it to them. This became especially clear on a recent
television interview, where Marjoe recounted his career-switch. First he
was in evangelism, then he was in movies, now he's in TV. As simple as
that--no crisis of faith leaving fundamentalism, as many of us have
undergone. Just a new line of work. It probably puzzles Marjoe that
people even use the categories "true or false prophet," "sincere or
insincere," regarding him. Was he genuine or phony? Marjoe would ask
for clarification: "Genuine or phony as what?" The real issue is
how "genuine" a performance you give, because evangelism is
entertainment. Whether the evangelist himself literally believes his
gospel is about as important as whether an actor playing Lenin is really
a communist. Marjoe seems to have put his finger on perhaps the central
question in the current controversy over media Evangelicalism. In what
follows we will look briefly at three aspects of popular Charismatic
religion to see whether Marjoe’s perspective makes the current revival
more understandable.
These categories
may be dubbed "Hype,” "Bilk," and "Trip." First "Hype": Marjoe made it
clear that the success of a revivalist depends on his skill in playing
on peoples' emotions and sensibilities so as to produce money, fainting,
glossolalia, conversions, etc. The right tone of voice and technique are
all- important. . The difference between a "seeker" who "got healed" and
one who didn't might simply be how hard the healer grabbed the wounded
limb, how violently he yelled. In fact Marjoe regularly demonstrates
this on his college lecture tour as he harangues outright skeptics from
the audience into being "slain in the Spirit" right on stage. (His
topic, significantly, is "Persuasion and Rhetoric.")
Before one says how
reprehensible all this is, one might take another look at media blitzes like "Here's Life,
America," the "I Found It" campaign, where ad techniques from Coca-Cola
are used to hustle and lure the unsaved into the Kingdom. Campus
Crusader Bruce Cook's rationale: "God performed a miracle
there, on the day of Pentecost. They didn't have the benefit of buttons
and media, so God had to do a
little supernatural work there. But today, with our technology, we have
available to us the opportunity to create the same kind of interest in a
secular society." 2 What is he saying but that
converting someone to Christ is little different from getting him to buy
Coke instead of Pepsi?
Similarly,
multimedia sound and light musicals (Cry 3; Dreamweaver)
are carefully geared to soften up the viewer, set him or her up for the
kill, and whammo! The angels rejoice in heaven over the Nielsen ratings
of salvation. “That's entertainment!" Also redemption. Marjoe Gortner
didn't believe in the gospel he preached, Bill Bright does, but what's
the difference? The result is the same, and so is the method—emotional
manipulation.
"Bilk" is our
second category. We are all familiar with real estate and medical scams
perpetrated on the elderly, and it makes us especially angry to think of
such things being done in the name of religion. Of course, this kind of
concern is the origin of much of the public outrage concerning the
"cults." The popular media evangelists cannot seem to escape suspicion
on this score either. What are we to make of it when Pat Robertson's
“Kingdom Principles” include the advice to give even one’s rent or food
budget to the 700 Club? Rest assured, God will miraculously repay
you. Is this a bilk? Is Pat cynically conning the little old ladies, a
la Jim Jones, into handing over their Social Security checks to line his
own pocket? Or does he really believe God will replenish (a promise
Jesus didn't make to the widow in Luke 21:1-4, as far as we know)? I
suggest again that it
doesn’t make a bit of
difference. The
result is exactly the same either way.
What it amounts to is that
viewers are buying meaning for their mundane lives. They believe they
are sharing in the task of spreading the Word. Better than "buying”
would be the metaphor of “gambling.” The poorer the PTL or 700
Club fan is, the more her contribution is a high-stakes bet. But at least some return is
guaranteed. Even if she has to go without heat this week (God just may
be testing her), she has the satisfaction of believing that her dollars
have forwarded the Great Commission. And if she has simply been taken
for a ride, it doesn't much matter whether it was the TV preacher's
cynical greed or his naive faith that was responsible.
Third, what about
the “Trip,” the religious thrill provided by Charismatic religion, on
TV or otherwise? It is notoriously difficult to distinguish spiritual
uplift from sheer emotional excitement in such a context. This came home
to me one evening as I sat enthralled with a TV special. There were the
crowds in ecstatic joy, swaying, hands aloft, singing along from the
audience as the musicians jammed away on stage. Was it Pat Robertson
preaching? Ernest Angeley praying? Try Donna Summer, bumping and
grinding across the stage. The excitement was electric, contagious!
But... uh... secular. 3 And suppose the media revivalist has
no more spiritual concern than Donna doe s as she belts out "Hot Stuff"?
I submit it doesn't matter in the least. All that matters is how well
the prompter does his job. Can somebody say amen?
One might react to this
summary by concluding that it is surely a superficial religion that
"works" in this way regardless of the sincerity of its leaders. (In
other words, the "real thing" is no better than a cheap scam would be!)
And that's true, but not the whole story. Adherents of the
Electric Church seem quite
happy with the results. They claim to be uplifted, comforted, inspired. Even saved, healed, filled
with the Holy Ghost. (Similarly, a boy, blind from birth, allegedy
regained his sight at Marjoe's hands, though the evangelist had no
illusions as to his own “powers.”)
Let me wheel out
an old theological rubric that might make some sense of this. To resolve
the Donatist Controversy, St. Augustine formulated the doctrine of ex
opere operato, i.e., the Eucharist does its salvific work regardless
of the sanctification (or lack thereof) of the celebrant.
So, it didn't ultimately
matter (at least on this score) whether one's priest were a saint or a
sinner. And so with
pop-Evangelicalism. It doesn't matter spiritually that it doesn't matter
effectively whether the whole thing is a scam. People seem to derive
edification regardless.
But, it will still be
objected, can such superficial sensationalism count as authentic
Christianity? If its conversions are merely glorified consumer
manipulations; if its sacrificial giving might as well be mere gambling;
if its spiritual exaltation is nothing more than mob-hysteria, can this be real New Testament
religion? And the triumphalistic jingoism, the arrogant materialism, the
individualistic easy-believe-ism--what has this, pray tell, to do with
the way of the cross? We often hear such critiques from mainline
churches who deplore the lack of real pastoral counseling and
interpersonal community in the media religion. Similarly, radical
Christians like the Sojourners Community bemoan the self-congratulatory
affluence of big-bucks Evangelicalism. These criticisms have to be taken
seriously. But then so do the replies of Pat Robertson and company with
their truckloads of mail from viewers whose lives have been redeemed by
remote control.
I propose that we have here
one of those situations where "everything is true, and so is its
contrary." I borrow this phrase from Paul Watzlawick, in his book How
Real is Real? He refers to Dostoevski's parable of the Grand
Inquisitor. The cardinal condemns Jesus for shackling humanity with an unbearable burden
of freedom. Men and women want the stifling security of miracle,
mystery, and authority. They want to "escape from freedom." But Jesus
invites them to take on his yoke of faith freely given, free thought,
and responsibility. The cardinal takes pride in the progress of the Church in finally
undoing this mischief of Jesus' making, and instead giving the people
the servitude they desire. Who is right in this scene? On which side of
the prison bars does the truth about religion lie? Paradoxically, on
both! Jesus' call for freedom is heroic. But not everyone can rise
to such a challenge. Is no provision to be made for those who can't?
Isn't it better to give them a crutch than leave them to limp? This, I
fear, is exactly the case with the Electric Church.
I believe that the
sophisticated clerics and the radical Sojourners are exactly correct in
their criticisms. I am as sure as I can be that mass-market faith is a
trivialization of Christ, even an opiate of the people. But,
realistically speaking, most folks are not as heroic as the Sojourners
and never will be. One just cannot expect them to understand or heed a
call to radical discipleship. To demand that they do will be futile.
And such a demand is thus essentially elitist. (So is, I realize, my
very description of the problem, but I'm afraid that's the way it is.)
Schleiermacher
defined piety as “a sense and taste for the Infinite.” Well, I think we
must admit that, just as people have different levels of appreciation
and taste, so it is with religious sensibilities. Some people dine in
elegant restaurants; others are happy with pizza (my favorite is
pepperoni and anchovy!). Some bask in operatic culture; others see
Star Wars (I must have seen the original at least twenty-five times
in the theatre). Some praise the Lord for Ernest Angeley, while others
leave all and follow Daniel Berrigan (I hope there are other
alternatives). So we are left with a paradox. The mass-culture media
religion is so superficial that it scarcely matters whether its
adherents are cynically being "taken." They seem to like it, and it does
them good, no matter how it may trivialize the radical gospel of the New
Testament. And those of us who would criticize the
Electric
Church for that
failing will be elitists if we do, and just as elitist if we refrain!
Which is worse: to berate the "weaker brethren," or to grudgingly
tolerate them as a “mob that knoweth not the law”? My suspicion is that
we can go no farther than to assess the issues for ourselves in order to
decide which form of faith we will personally accept. You have to call 'em
like you see 'em, after all.
But then what to say about
the other option, the one we reject? And what about those people who do
accept it? It won't hurt to recall Paul's advice in Romans 14:4, "Who
are you to judge someone else's servant? To his own master he stands or
falls. And he will stand, for the Lord is able to make him stand."
But not so fast--our
dilemma can be swept only so far under the rug provided by this text.
Remember, the two positions we are considering do not concern mere
doctrinal trivia, and they seem to be mutually exclusive--if either is a
true description of the gospel, the other can't be! They differ squarely
on the same issues. Perhaps the answer to our existential quandary is
not, strictly speaking, an answer to the
theological problem at all. H. Richard Niebuhr wisely observed that we
are often right in what we affirm but wrong in what we deny. He proposed
what has been called a “confessional" stance. We should, indeed we must,
confess the faith delivered unto us, but we need not trouble
ourselves one way or the other about the confessions of others. "We can
speak of revelation only in
connection with our own history without affirming or denying its reality
in the history of other communities into whose inner life we cannot
penetrate without abandoning ourselves and our community!” 4
This implies no relativism,
where somehow everything is true, but rather a kind of believing
agnosticism, where there is no claim to know what else is true or false
besides one's own belief. So if you are a radical Christian, following
Jesus in the way of voluntary poverty, what are you to think of the
"biblical boob-tube" fan? Like someone else who once asked "Lord, what
about him?" you may receive the answer “What is that to you? You must
follow me" (John 21:21-22).
1 Bob Larson, The Guru
(Denver: Bob Larson Ministries, 1974), p. 52.
2 CBS Reports: “Born
Again'" with Bill Moyers, July 14, 1977.
3 Now it turns out that
Donna is a Born Again Christian, too!
4 H. Richard Niebuhr,
The Meaning of Revelation (New. York: Macmillan, 1974), p. 60.
By
Robert M. Price