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God of Prime-Time Television, The

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This article appeared originally on www.beliefnet.com, the leading multifaith website for religion, spirituality, inspiration & more. Used with permission. All rights reserved.

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Television has portrayed flying nuns, angels, bishops and rabbis and now God himself. What do they say about the divine?

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What would you know about God if your only source of information were television?

It's a question worth asking this year, with no fewer than four new shows with theological implications. This week CBS takes its second shot at portraying God in three years with its heavily promoted "Joan of Arcadia," and next month Fox will introduce "Tru Calling" and "Wonderfalls." "Carnivale," on HBO, is the Almighty's cable debut.

From their founding to the late 1970s, America's TV networks channeled God almost exclusively through gray-haired, honey-toned men like Bishop Fulton J. Sheen, whose "Life Is Worth Living" beat Milton Berle's ratings in the 1950s, Norman Vincent Peale and his protege Robert Schuller. God was an optimist, a booster who'd fit in on the motivational speaking circuit. From the appearance of "Highway to Heaven" in 1984 until last season, when "Touched By An Angel" ended its seven-year run, God was an unseen helper acting through angels who took the form of Michael Landon and Della Reese.

Nowadays, God is on more shows than ever, speaking, not so much through, but to young women. The portrait they draw says as much about Hollywood as they do about the divine. But they make their points with a verve that the earlier treatments didn't, forcing the question of divine revelation, and asserting a theology unique to television.

Some of the theological themes found on "Joan" and other current television shows that touch on religion:

God is "one of us." The best of new God shows, "Joan of Arcadia," is nothing if not bold. While cool special effects have given us tasteful glimpses of the invisible realm, "Joan" faces us with a human likeness of God, exploring what theologians call the immanence of God--the divine expressed in the world, specifically in humans. God is a fellow teenager, a cafeteria hash slinger; Joan ends up peering expectantly at any stranger who looks at her funny.

But the supernatural is only one way God manifests himself. Joan also finds God's love in her father, who comforts her when she is frightened by her visions, and her physics-whiz brother, who helps her grasp the possibility of God from the rationalist side.

God is not who or what we expect. If God wants to appear as the lunch lady, that's God's prerogative. Shows that challenge rigid or fixed ideas about God perform the same service as Theology 101--questioning the limits we put on God, and allowing God to surprise us.

God is good. Religion is bad. Joan's mother asks a minister where God was when her son had the accident that left him paralyzed. The minister lamely suggests she make an appointment, and tells her, "I'll pray for you." This skepticism about institutional faith is common on the tube. On the WB's "Everwood," a rabbi responded to a girl's question about the existence of God with a string of convoluted metaphysical principles. Like Joan's mom, the girl did better learning about God on her own.

God as pursuer. God pops up on the bus, at school: the "hound of heaven" won't let Joan go. Often this principle is personified in a righteous person who stands by another, even in the face of rejection. A few seasons ago on "ER," a dying bishop pursued a close friendship with the angry lapsed Catholic, Dr. Luka Kovac. The relationship ended in spiritual healing for both men.

God expects us to use our talents. God wants Joan to "fulfill her nature." A nod to the human potential movement, yes, but also recognition that God has given us special gifts for a purpose. This being TV, the characters on Fox's upcoming "Tru Calling," and USA Channel's "The Dead Zone" both use their supernatural insight to help the police solve crimes.

God works through ordinary individuals. Movies, like the semi-Biblical epics like "Spartacus" or the more recent "Ghandi," stress the power of one to inspire the community and change the world. On the small screen, God is a strictly small-bore thinker. He mysteriously tells Joan to take a job in a bookstore, which inspires her disabled brother to stop feeling sorry for himself and get a job too. Perhaps one day TV writers will risk creating characters who reveal the prophetic and communal nature of God's will.

God is interfaith. "I come off a little friendlier in the New Testament and Qur'an [than in the Old Testament]," says God inclusively in the "Joan" premier. The show's creator, Barbara Hall, says the show won't side with any religion. This is only practical, since the show will succeed by appealing to all viewers. But it also reflects our culture's growing respect for all religions.

TV writers sometimes mistake mentioning religions for understanding them. What precisely does Joan's God mean to imply--that the Hebrew Bible misunderstood God's nature? Some Christians do see the New Testament as a "corrective" to the Hebrew Scriptures, but is this what Joan's God means to say?

God oversees a cosmic battle between good and evil. Shows with religious undertones often take a page from Manichaeism, a third-century Persian religion that emphasized the eternal fight between good and evil spirits. Salvation comes when the God's good spirits defeat the bad ones. Faced weekly with a pantheistic anarchy of demons, gods, goddesses, wood nymphs, faeries and "white-lighters," the witches of the WB's "Charmed" fight the good fight. Good usually reigns, although its hold on the world seems tenuous.

HBO's new show "Carnivale" promises more Manichaeism-lite: "In every generation is born a creature of light and a creature of darkness," its opening sequence intones. Several characters are candidates for both kinds of creatures: a preacher; a young man who has the power to heal and, in some cases resurrect (a dead kitten anyway); a carny who reads minds; and the comatose psychic who talks telepathically to her daughter. Which of these are agents of God? "Carnivale" doesn't answer. It wants us to decide. (Hint: It's a safe bet that the fist-shaking preacher isn't a creature of light.)

God intervenes. "Joan"'s Hall says her God will not directly intervene in the characters' lives, but it's hard not to point out that waltzing into the life of a girl in Anytown USA is already a rather obvious intervention. Most of us don't experience God with that sort of clarity. We muddle through: praying, considering feelings, carefully sifting through voices in the culture and community, and relying upon the tenets of our religious traditions.

God plays it safe. Theologian Paul Tillich contended that our "god" is that thing we care most about. Using that standard, the "god" of any network TV show is market share. If a God show does well, it's probably not seriously challenging the status quo.

Assuming God delivers eyeballs, however, we should be watching God on TV for a few seasons to come. The demands of good storytelling make it likely that writers and producers will eventually favor characters who sincerely and intelligently practice a specific religion. Some of the most successful episodes in recent seasons of "ER ," "The West Wing," "Everwood" and "Six Feet Under" have shown us characters with definite denominational attachments. Audiences seem to know instinctively what theologians in the interfaith movement discovered early on: generalizing about God is never as invigorating as sharing our deep and particular experiences.

Television can never be our preacher or guru--it has too many ulterior motives. It can, however, sensitively embrace the holy and invite us to examine and form our own theology. What greater compliment could be paid TV than to say, "That show made me think seriously about my faith"?

This article appeared originally on www.beliefnet.com, the leading multifaith website for religion, spirituality, inspiration & more. Used with permission. All rights reserved.

 
Author Bio: 

Teresa Blythe is a spiritual director and writer devoted to assisting individuals and groups in discovering where God is active in their daily lives and in the culture in which we live. Teresa serves as the media review editor for Presbyterians Today magazine and writes reviews of religion books for Publisher's Weekly and other publications. She has co-authored two books on religion and popular culture: Meeting God in Virtual Reality: Using Spiritual Practices with Media (Abingdon, 2004) and Watching What We Watch: Prime-time Television Through the Lens of Faith (Geneva, 2001).

PASTORING: What Gender is God?

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This article originally appeared in Issue# 48
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Exploring male images in media uncovers deeper questions about the nature of divinity and who can image God/the divine.

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Recently, my local newspaper ran a review of a comedian's live show that focused on his male bravado and his rather brutal putdown of women. The reviewer noted that the audience, mostly young and male, enjoyed the jokes about sex-without-commitment and the attitude that women were there to be used.

I recalled this review while reading Mark Miller's essay on TV fathers in this issue. There was a thread of painful familiarity in his account of the continuing dominance of male power even if the external trappings had changed. While recognition of male power is important in analyzing media images, it is also essential to explore how and why these images are created and reinforced in our consciousness.

Male domination and female subordination are images tightly woven into Western cultures, both religious (Jewish, Christian and Muslim) and secular (Greek, Roman and Enlightenment). The re-thinking of male and female must begin with these roots, with our religious and philosophical traditions that underlie "how the world works." For even as women have gained greater power in many religious organizations, the fundamental image of God/the divine as male has not changed.

Despite the acceptance of ordination for women (in some traditions), this change should not be mistaken for the real revolution that still must cake place at a deeper level; the fundamental acceptance of females as equal to males in the very nature of humankind a nature established and blessed by God/the divine.

Exploring male dominance challenges religious educators and leaders to ask tough questions. These questions become difficult and upsetting as they go to the very nature of divinity and how it is reflected in social and political relations. We may start out asking questions about male images in the media or in society at large but in the religious community we have some deeper work to do:

  • What does it mean to call God "father?" Why is it unsettling to call God "mother?"
  • What is the implicit message in praying for "mankind?"
  • What is the continued impact of hymns or prayers that focus on male images of leadership and divinity?
  • How does the image of God as male reinforce and perpetuate the dominance of males and the subordination of females in everyday personal relationships and the very structures of society?

 

Encouraging a congregation or study group to grapple with these issues is urgent if we are serious about eradicating sexism in our society today. A valuable exercise is to ask people the impact of calling God "white father" and praying for blessings upon "white men." These expressions may sound absurd, but they also help us understand in a more jarring fashion how the words, prayers and images we use in religious settings create a world where if God is male, then no wonder the male is god.

 

J.R. in Hell: Sin and Salvation on the Small Screen

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This article originally appeared in Issue# 40-41
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Academic television critics have been discussing the content of dramatic television recently as "text," not recognizing the religious connotations implied by the word. Western fiction has always had a didactic as well as an entertainment function. The question is: What are the values or basic ideology being transmitted through television? Another question is: Whose values are being transmitted?

An estimated 350 million people in 85 countries tuned into the opening episode of Dallas in the fall of 1980 to find out who had shot JR. and whether he had "died." Although candidates for the role of avenger of his many sins and misdemeanors were plentiful, his assailant turned out to be the sister-in-law with whom he had been having an adulterous affair.

Although JR was, in effect, punished for breaking the Seventh Commandment (which forbids adultery), the success of the cliffhanger in attracting viewers presented night-time soap producers with an Eleventh Commandment: "Thou shalt end the season with a cliffhanger.' An unrepentant JR. continued his nefarious lifestyle, and the end of a later season found him trapped in a burning Southfork Ranch — a modern metaphor for a sinner in the flames of hell.

Presumably the show's writers and producers weren't deliberately in search of Faustian symbolism — nor were the creators of The Search for Tomorrow thinking of Noah when they staged a flood to get rid of outmoded sets and some characters (although they certainly were hoping to establish a new fictional world).

Other biblical stories find their parallels in the multifaceted images evoked by Bobby's death and resurrection. By dying, he re-enacts the story of Cain and Abel, the ancient rivalry in which the good brother dies. His impossible return sparks reminders of Lazarus (although the dream explanation squelches any supernatural/religious element).

In fact, Dallas writers may not be religious, but they can't help being influenced by the stories and myths of human culture. All religions have sacred dramas, myths, rituals or morality plays that depict the war between good and evil for human souls.

Each culture and society has its own stories to tell that explain and justify the ways it functions, and to affirm the values and beliefs it wishes to prevail. In all countries, daytime and night-time drama and comedy variety shows, derived from their own culture and experience, consistently outdraw and have higher ratings than imported programs.

Dallas writers may not be religious, but they can't help being influenced by the stories and myths of human culture.

To be successful in their own countries, the producers and distributors of local and imported television entertainment must make decisions in conformity with the constraints and rules of their cultures; to do otherwise would be to risk alienating and antagonizing the audience, and worse, incurring censure. For example, Egypt refused to broadcast Dallas because its emphasis on wealth, promiscuity and drinking were offensive to Muslim morality.

The show also failed in Japan. It was imported by TV Asahi in 1981 and was pulled off the air in six months when its ratings plunged. Its failure was so unusual that cultural explanations had to be considered. For example, did it puzzle the audience that the oil-rich Ewings lived in the country (where peasants live) instead of in a city as wealthy Japanese do?

Lest we forget, J.R. may break all the other commandments, but he does honor his mother and father.

Further analysis indicated, however, that Dallas had alienated its Japanese viewers at a far deeper level. The popularity of a serial drama called Oshin provides a clue. Its average audience share is 57 percent and it tells the story of a woman who overcame extreme hardship in growing up and still triumphs over adversity through hard work and sacrifice. In contrast, the plots in Dallas are typically centered on greed, selfishness, lies, hatred and disloyalty. The Japanese culture holds up to ridicule and shame those who disrupt family harmony and do not honor obligations. The feud between Bobby and JR. might have provided escapist entertainment to viewers in other cultures, but to the Japanese, it was repugnant.

However, the fact that so many viewers worldwide, from such diverse cultural and religious backgrounds, tune in weekly to see what J.R. was up to suggests that the "text" involving him was more universal than Western and Judaeo-Christian. Also, in choosing a possible fiery death for him, the writers of Dallas had chosen a text involving punishment buried so deep in shared belief-systems that as a substratum, it could bypass religious, cultural and national boundaries.

The data about the long-term effects of television are still to be found, but assuming that it is as powerful as its critics contend, it should also be seen as a medium that affirms and reaffirms the core-culture of society, its basic concerns and values. Although it might stretch their similarity, Dallas and The Cosby Show are essentially family sagas that demonstrate the frailties and strengths of traditional family ties in an individualistic and fragmented society. Regardless of whether all the Ten Commandments still apply to life as it is lived in the late 20th century, prime-time television can still be relied on to present the worth of those family ties as a predominant value. Lest we forget, JR. may break all other commandments but he does honor his mother and father. Even the Japanese would approve.

 
Author Bio: 

Joel M. Cantor, a psychologist and anthropologist, studied communication issues. Muriel G. Cantor was professor of sociology at American University in Washington, D.C., and author of Prime Time Television and The Soap Opera. Both are now deceased.

As the World Watches: Media Events are Modern 'Holy Days'

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This article originally appeared in Issue# 25
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How television's coverage of extraordinary events creates meaning for our lives.

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That bright morning in 1961 should have been a normal commuting day. But police monitoring the early morning traffic in California became more and more puzzled by a break in the pattern. Instead of proceeding to work, an ever- growing number of commuters slowed down, pulled off the road and parked. They were listening to the radio.

Since the patrolling officers did not have AM radio, it took them a while to realize the cause of this phenomenon. The bemused drivers were merely joining the workers, housewives and students who were already gathered around television sets in homes, offices, and classrooms all over the country. The first American astronaut was going into space. Ordinary activities were irrelevant. The whole world was watching. The absorbed witnesses to the happenings of that day have been joined since then by the multitudes of mourners at Kennedy's funeral, the half-a-world-away celebrants who got up in the middle of the night to attend Charles and Diana's wedding, and the countrywide citizen-judges of the Watergate hearings.

Journalist Tom Wolfe, who described the astronaut launching in his book The Right Stuff, likened the astronauts to medieval knights who were doing single combat for their society. Since their role appealed to the nation's need for a way to fight the Cold War, their actions and fate assumed an overarching importance that transcended the events themselves.

In fact, this centrality of importance in which television provides a ritual outlet for the whole society is the crucial characteristic of what are often called "media events," or what communications researcher Elihu Katz calls "the high holidays of television." Katz, Director of the Communications Institute at the Hebrew University, Jerusalem, and Professor at the Annenberg School of Communications at the University of Southern California, is involved in a systematic study of this phenomenon. He proposes that "media events" are a specifically delimited kind of happening which may be easily distinguished from ordinary news and entertainment by the application of proper criteria. Their study sheds light on the events, ceremonies and values which depend on television to help make life meaningful in our society.

Being There

To begin with, true media events are broadcast live, taking full advantage of the excitement inherent in being present when something important occurs. Although they must be preplanned in some sense, they are not set up by the networks and they exist for a higher purpose than hype. That is, they are not publicity-created "pseudo-events."

In some ways 'media events" share a number of the characteristics of news. They are tied to specific events that have a beginning and an end. They depend on a combination of visual transmission and factual commentary. They usually take place in public and are acknowledged as possessing common interest for the society as a whole. And they are extremely dependent on television's often-noted capacity for making the grandiose and complex, intimate and personal.

 

"Watergate...in effect, served as a modern ritual of purification, with the whole nation finally serving as citizen-judges."

But unlike the news of the day, media events reach far beyond the day-to-day round of misfortune and circumstance to create compelling sense of occasion that transfixes viewers. Watching them often becomes a communal outlet transformed into a participatory requirement — a kind of sacred obligation (holy day of obligation?) for complete society membership.

As Katz points out, special television happenings are one of the few types of programming that transform TV watching into an occasion instead of a casual everyday experience. People get dressed up and visit each other' homes to celebrate the Superbowl; the whole world watched the moon landings.

But most important and typical about these "media high holidays" — and which goes a long way towards explaining their sacred character — is the sense of heroic participation, conflict and resolution they represent. Like classical tragedy, folk and fairy tales, a real media event nearly always features a heroic man, woman or group whose struggle to bring something of meaning to the society is witnessed directly on the TV screen by the breathless, watching multitudes who are being given the gift.

This reverence is often heightened by the news commentator who drops from the usual attitude of cheerful cynicism into the hushed dramatic tones of a high priest.

Frequently even the chatter of the commercials is absent, as viewers settle back to ponder the important questions: Will things work out as planned? Will something untoward occur to interrupt the resolution provided by the unfolding ceremony? Will our side win? And it's generally very clear from the commentary which side is "ours" as the battle between the forces of light and darkness unfolds before our very eyes. What could be more important? In a sense, every viewer shares in Galahad's quest for the Holy Grail and David's contest with Goliath.

In fact, media holidays celebrate modern quests — the contests (presidential debates, the Superbowl, the World Series), conquests (the Pope in Poland, Watergate, landing on the moon), coronations (the royal wedding, presidential inaugurations) and rites of passage (the Kennedy funeral) that move us as they did our ancestors.

Other examples could be: Nixon's trip to China (a hero defying national law); Sadat in Jerusalem (his decision to go was news; his arrival was a media event); the Olympics. The first, a heroic mission, provides the most classical example of mythical conflict. The second is a heroic state occasion and the third is a more familiar contest, but "one subject to shared and enforceable rules, and with a sense of what there is in common," writes Katz.

Coming Together

Watergate, a continuing national preoccupation for over three years, can serve as another good example, since it had aspects that fell into all of these categories and in effect served as a modern ritual of purification, with the whole nation finally serving as citizen-judges.

The original break-in was news. The Washington Post series featured heroic figures (Woodward and Bernstein) who revealed the hidden truth to a watching world.

The hearings provided an opportunity for leaders like Sam Ervin and other legislators to testify to patriotism and religious values, and Nixon's mea culpa and Ford's inauguration reaffirmed cultural agreement and identity.

Seldom recognized in evaluations of 'the long national nightmare" is its provision of a mediagenic opportunity for affirmation of societal values — an agreement that had been totally lacking in the turbulent decade of the 1960's.

Making Myths

Because media holidays have been viewed formerly as 'journalism writ large,' their effects as shaping rituals and potential societal myths have not been systematically evaluated before. But as Katz and other commentators have cautioned, society can't afford the indiscriminate formation of rituals. Has the spontaneous development of media holidays served us well? Does it reflect, enhance or distort our views and values?

The effect, possibly pernicious, of cameras and microphones on the events themselves has been dealt with by many critics, most notably by Daniel Boorstin in The Image. Writing in the early '60's, he warned against the dangers of "pseudo events."

As elaborations of spontaneous happenings, true media events fortunately resist public relations piggybacking. Worth considering, however, are the layers of additional meanings that are typically added by visuals and commentary. The home viewer gains comfort and an Olympian perspective, with analysis, color and camera angles chosen by others. Viewers have no means of knowing exactly what has been added or left out. On the other hand, the crowd on the spot sees only a small piece of the action, but has the freedom to draw its own conclusions.

As a corollary to this process, consider TV's other shaping role — as a co-planner of the events themselves. For example, in negotiations for the royal wedding, television executives were consulted along with officials of church and state and camera angles determined some parts of the ceremony.

 

"Unlike the news of the day, media events reach far beyond the day-to-day to create a compelling sense of occasion that transfixes viewers."

"A lot of people try to persuade television that their event is of historic importance," Katz says. "And television decides which events it thinks will capture the imagination of the people.

'In effect, the event as it actually happens is less important than the event as represented by television. The broadcast is what the mass audience reacts to — not what actually takes place. The actions of the actual participants in the event are also shaped by how that event is presented on television."

Making History

Do the events and heroes who star in media rituals make history? Or will they merely he floating pebbles as the flood of impersonal and complex forces carves out the bend in the channel?

With its preference for the individual and personal, journalism — especially broadcasting — may be the last refuge of the "great man" theory of history. turning societal forces into modern Thucididean dramas. Historians may object that history is not event but process, but the average viewer joins the journalist in an instinctive feeling that somebody should be visible and accountable.

In supporting the integrative vision behind media holidays, Katz points out that a sense of participation and reconciliation of conflicts are deep and continuing needs. And as he says, audience response itself can he used to test an event's authenticity.

"When Sadat arrived in Jerusalem, there were very few cynics left who doubted the genuineness of his peace initiative...Sadat and Israel confronted each other as much on television as on the streets. To summarize, media events induce participation and a sense of resolution, change attitudes and provide a feeling for process and the way things work.

Making Meaning

All these factors combine to make them a crucial and perhaps irreplaceable avenue of meaning and values transmission in modem society. 'events which testify that the deeds of human beings, especially great ones. still make a difference and arc worth hearing about."

A striking example of this need for meaning occurs when the closed society responds with the purity of denial to an unexpected view of what the rest of the world takes for granted. The Pope's first visit to Poland is a good example. Katz quotes an interviewer offering this assessment of his homilies as seen and heard on the air:

"...words began to fit the reality...of the people who heard them...as if their real semantic value was given back to them… People were realizing that after all they are not powerless, that what will happen… depends somewhat on them, that something of the future is in their hands."

This feeling of power and control, the sense that there is some meaning to human history beyond a ceaseless procession into the dark, is what the best kind of media holiday event is all about.

 
Author Bio: 

Rosalind Silver, who started as a volunteer writer for Media&Values magazine in 1983, was named editor in 1989 and continued on staff until the magazine ceased publication in 1993. She holds an MA in Journalism from the University of Southern California. She is a copy editor on the Press Telegram, Long Beach, California.

Why Don't People in Movies Ever Pray?

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This article originally appeared in Issue# 17
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Movies these days reflect almost every aspect of life and death but seldom do they deal with an experience common to millions in every age--religious faith.

Why is it that moviemakers, particularly in America, neglect the dimension of religion in the stories they film? When in a dramatic sequence on the screen did you last see a character really praying? It hardly ever happens.

And yet, people do pray. Most of the people in the United States and Canada believe in God and certainly these believers turn to God in prayer either regularly or occasionally.

Many will honestly and genuinely voice desperate prayers in situations of fear or extremity. But movies censor out this reflection of real life more often than not.

A prominent psychiatrist has said that if you really want to understand the character of people, listen to them pray... In prayer people reveal themselves and manifest the actual values they prize. But movie people don't seem to pray.

Many writers seem to have been seduced by secularism to the point of embarrassment at including bona fide religious moments.

Film figures seldom worship. Churches are still attended by millions each week but Hollywood hasn't discovered this phenomenon. Or, if a church service is somehow included in a dramatic story it is more likely than not to be a special occasion like a wedding or a funeral. Or it might be the excuse for a comic interlude. Serious worship doesn't often make it into movie scripts.

American movies more often than not will portray a minister or a priest in a negative way as a stereotype. The clergyman--hardly ever would there be a woman minister depicted--is probably shown as an inept, blundering, prissy, or vain fuddy-duddy. Would the pastor who honestly struggles with the human issues of life find a way into cinema drama today?

The problem starts with the writers. Many scripters seem to have been seduced by secularism to the point of embarrassment at including bona fide religious moments. There must be a lot of self-censorship at this point.

But maybe some writers try to depict spirituality but find that producers and directors cut this material out. I feel there is an insecurity on the part of producers and directors to deal with religion. Maybe they are intimidated by the kind of blasts that emanate from pulpit and pew against excesses of sex and violence.

There hasn't been a positive story on the screen about a Protestant minister since Frederick March starred in One Foot in Heaven in 1941. But several negative portrayals cone to mind like Elmer Gantry and Abner Hale in Hawaii. Gregory Peck played a sympathetic priest in The Keys of the Kingdom in 1944 as did Bing Crosby the following year in The Bells of St. Mary's, but most of the other priestly roles have been about questionable characters, except for Don Murray's The Hoodlum Priest in 1961. But where are the strong people of God on the screen today?

This is no special plea for equal tine as if one could measure the treatment of religion according to titles or feet of film devoted to the subject. Religion similarly suffers in newspapers, magazines and on radio and television, except for the paid commercials that some faith programs propagate. There must be as many persons in churches as on golf courses on Sunday morning, but the media pay more attention to golf than to God.

"...there's a challenge if there ever was one for the producer — to return the missing dimension of religion to movies."

Perhaps we should not be at all surprised. Real religion is uncomfortable to deal with. Much of it is unreasonable, illogical, inconceivable and mysteriously elusive to those who don't experience it by faith.

And faith is not by definition reasonable. For most writers it is also inexplicable. It takes a special communicative gift to convey the mystic reality of communion between human beings and their God.

But there's a challenge if there ever was one for the producer--to return the missing dimension of religion to movies. We pray they will succeed.

 
Author Bio: 

Robert E.A. Lee was executive director of the Office of Communication and Interpretation of the Lutheran Council in the USA from 1969-1988. This essay first appeared in Action, newsletter of the World Association for Christian Communication. Now retired, Lee continues as a writer and free-lance consultant with REAL World Communications, (www.realworldcomm.com) Baldwin, NY.