Religion and sexuality in pop culture
While I don’t watch much TV, Law and Order: SVU is one of my guilty pleasures. It has similar problems as CSI-style dramas, in that it eroticizes violence against women, but on a much lesser scale (for one thing, the camera doesn’t lovingly dote on every inch of the deceased’s flesh, and repeatedly re-enact their demise). As well, I’ve enjoyed Mariska Hargitay role as Olivia Benson, although her character has changed dramatically in the last season (this image is from before the makeover).
The formulaic writing may be old hat, but it’s worked for a decade, bringing in high ratings through their “Ripped from the Headlines” stories. Last night’s episode, “Sin”, ripped the Ted Haggard debacle, transforming it into the story of a pastor at “New Soul” church who is accused of murdering a male prostitute. A few things about the show bugged me, though I realize they are dealing in stereotypes and not characters with any depth. *Spoiler alert*
First, here’s a synopsis of the plot: Pastor Jeb Curtis is implicated in the death of a male prostitute because six alleles of his DNA match the DNA found at the crime scene (in a drop of sweat! C’mon…). Convinced that Curtis is guilty, Detective Stabler, a Catholic, takes the pastor to his own church, New Souls, and urges him to be honest before God. Curtis weeps and confesses. He balks during the trial, and pleads ”not guilty”, saying only that he is “responsible” and his sin is between he and God. During the start of the trial, Hannah Curtis shoots her husband out of anger that he lied to her and slept with a man. While the pastor is in the hospital and his wife is in jail, the detectives continue to wonder why Curtis, a man of God, wouldn’t be honest.
They realize perhaps one of his four sons could have been the one at the crime scene, since only six alleles match. It turns out that one of the sons is gay, had been sent to a “clinic” to be “cured”, but the cure didn’t take. He was involved with the man, and assumed that his father was the murderer out of anger. What unravels at the end is that one of the staff members, upset that Pastor Curtis was beginning to be tolerant of his son, the “sodomite”, committed the murder and was framing the reverend, in an attempt to take over the church and put it back on the right path.
(At right, Tim Daly, who plays Jeb Curtis.)
Minor Quibbles
Phew. Within the episode, we have failed ex-gay therapy, hypocritical Christian anger over sodomites, a reference to the “Replenish” anti-birth control movement and Curtis’ ten kids, a scene of a “Hell House” which re-enacts a partial-birth abortion to scare kids straight, some interior shots of New Souls church–with a large banner at the back of the sanctuary displaying Pastor Curtis, arms outstretched…
Some minor quibbles, first: two of the characters, Pastor Curtis and one of his daughters, say “Oh my God” when faced with some monumentous news. That might be the first reaction of a non-evangelical, but a likelier reply would have been “Oh my Word!” To me, it stuck out like a sore thumb (since I rarely say the phrase myself, as the evangelical culture I grew up in condemns it as violating the Second Commandment. )
Second, the imagery in the church sanctuary, of Curtis’ face plastered across a banner, is decidedly not what would appear inside of a large evangelical church. There are other ways to imply Curtis is a cult figure central to New Souls–in an evangelical church, a banner like this would be considered idolatrous.
Thematic and Theological Issues
There are larger issues, though, ones that I’ve glossed over by my use of the all-encompassing term “evangelical.” Here are the clusters of information we’re given, to identify the “brand” of church that Curtis belongs to (realizing that Haggard is in the viewer’s mind throughout):
- Curtis is politically vocal against homosexuality (like Ted Haggard).
- The “Replenish” movement is why Curtis has 10 kids (allusion to Quiverfull).
- Curtis’s wife, Hannah says things like “I knew this was a sign” and “I was praying about this” and writes a letter about her desire to send her husband to heaven before she shoots him (asking God’s forgiveness for the act).
- Curtis sends his son to a “clinic” to cure his homosexuality, but when he realizes he cannot change, begins to preach “tolerance.”
- The New Souls church is putting on a “Hell House” about abortion and homosexuality.
This constellation of beliefs comprise the stereotypes many viewers would have about “evangelical” or “fundamentalist” Christians. Ted Haggard’s (former) church in Colorado, New Life, is a charismatic, non-denominational congregation. Among their beliefs they list “healing of the sick” as well as “God’s will for provision” (implying believers can and should seek financial prosperity).
While there is nothing keeping these characteristics from appearing in one congregation, together, the fact that they are considered as natural parts of the Curtis’s beliefs is misleading. Charismatics like Haggard are part of the Quiverfull movement (Haggard has five children, a far cry from ten, but more than the average American), but so are Reformed leaders like RC Sproul, who has little in common with charismatic theology and ecclesiology.
Dramas like the Hell House would be found in evangelical churches–and Pentecostal/charismatic church in particular, but they are not ubiquitous, or without controversy in the Christian community. Keenan Roberts, who began the movement, is an Assemblies of God pastor, which is a charismatic denomination, emphasizing speaking in tongues and healings. These beliefs do not characterize all evangelicals, many of whom would consider them unorthodox.
Seeking to cure homosexuality is, to be sure, a more fashionable approach in Christianity today (among Protestants) than prior years. However much the emphasis is upon change, which is a topic for debate, there is also emphasis upon obedience and celibacy. For a pastor to change his mind simply because his son cannot change is implausible, especially when the pastor is earlier shown citing scripture and conservative arguments for the sinfulness of homosexuality. A theological shift would be needed, one that impacts other views.
Finally, the speech patterns of the characters (I noted the use of “Oh my God!” earlier) are interesting. Hannah’s use of “I knew this was a sign” reveals a common interpretation used by Christians, of the world around them. Like some of the other details, it leans towards interpreting the Curtises as charismatic. The murderer, a church staff member, uses the term “sodomite” a few times, whereas the others say “homosexual” or “gay” interchangeably. I’d be interested to go back and see how often the words are used, and by whom, because “gay” is a term rarely used, in my experience, by Christians who believe homosexuality is sinful. However, “sodomite” is a term also not frequently used–although folks like Fred Phelps make many believe it’s a common moniker for gay people.
Fact and Fiction
I find these kinds of shows fascinating because of how they combine several groupings of believers together into one lump. If I were more well-versed in Islam, I’m sure I’d find the same stereotyping of Sharia law, burquas, multiple wives, etc. Granted, it’s unrealistic to expect theological nuance in a primetime show like Law and Order. And I know that, like my earlier analysis of 300, I am going far beyond the intentions of the writers.
Yet both analyses raise similar issues: When we’re representing (however loosely) current events or history, in what ways do we have responsibility towards the details? What can be changed for the sake of compelling themes? Are types, rather than characters, inherently misleading, or do they simply play a different role? In Law and Order, the question is what “Ripped from the Headlines” means–surely they mean to have some reflection upon current events, if only just to capitalize on the media frenzy. In 300, the question is what the references to Sparta, Persia, and other historical figures do. Are they merely present to instill a sense of awe in the audience (wow, this is cool and it happened, too!), or is some kind of commentary on the past implicit?