As a writer, there have been an embarrassing number of times when I’ve picked up a newly published book, read the book’s premise, and experienced an unspiritual moment of professional jealousy because the idea behind the book was so brilliant. I felt that way about A. J. Jacobs’ The Year of Living Biblically. I also felt that way when I first heard about Salvation on the Small Screen? 24 Hours of Christian Television by Nadia Bolz-Weber, which comes with a front-cover endorsement by Jacobs himself.
The premise behind Bolz-Weber’s book is classic. Take a progressive, cynical Lutheran minister with a background in stand-up comedy. Force her to watch 24 hours of Trinity Broadcasting Network, home to Benny Hinn, Rod Parsley, and Jan Crouch’s pink hair. Let her invite friends over for each hour of programming. Then write about it.
The result is a hilarious, disturbing, and thought-provoking exploration of one of the weirdest—and most visible—subcultures in western Christianity. And contrary to my literary envy, Bolz-Weber was ideal for the job. She grew up in a fundamentalist, sectarian Church of Christ in Colorado Springs, where, she says, “women were not allowed to pray in front of men.” She left the church at 16 and fell into a serious dependence on drug and alcohol before sobering up at 22. Getting clean, she says, was a life-changing instance of “God’s grace interrupting my life.” Bolz-Weber eventually fell in love with Lutheran theology, attended seminary, and was recently ordained by the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). Along the way, she gained a blog following at www.sarcasticlutheran.com and helped found House for All Sinners and Saints, an urban/liturgical/emerging church in Denver.
On the day of Denver’s first snowfall, I talked to Bolz-Weber about her TBN-watching experience and the surprising impact it had on her faith.
JASON BOYETT: How did the idea for the book come about?
NADIA BOLZ-WEBER: One of the editors at Church Publishing [the parent company of Seabury Press] had the idea to get someone who was Christian-identified to experience 24 hours of a different kind of Christianity—in the form of TBN—and write about it. They asked Becky Garrison, the religious satirist, and Becky gave them my name. My reaction to the idea was, “Doesn’t the Geneva Convention address that somewhere? Like right after waterboarding? Are you actually allowed by international law to make someone watch 24 consecutive hours of TBN?”
My next question was “Can I invite my friends?” That part was my idea, signing people up for an hour each to come watch with me.
BOYETT: That was one of the best parts of the book. You had a wide spectrum of people, from gay and lesbian friends to your very conservative parents. What did the community experience bring to the project?
BOLZ-WEBER: I’m only so interesting on my own. But I thought a conversation between what’s going on in my head, what’s happening on the screen, and what’s going on in the room with different people each hour might be interesting. That was the biggest joy of the book for me—introducing the world to my really smart, funny friends.
BOYETT: How much experience with Christian television did you have before starting the project?
BOLZ-WEBER: Close to zero. A couple times in my life I’d been in a hotel room and channel-surfed a bit and stopped on TBN and thought, “What in the world is that?” But I don’t think I’d watched an hour total in my entire life.
BOYETT: Was it enough prior exposure to start with a bias against it?
BOLZ-WEBER: Of course. I mention in the book that what little I knew about Christian TV I felt superior to. I definitely felt like they were all charlatans, or this was theological heresy at worst or manipulative at best. I can’t say I went in completely open-minded. That would be a lie.
BOYETT: What surprised you most about the experience? Anything unexpected?
BOLZ-WEBER: The thing that surprised me the most was the fact that I ended up—myself and my tradition—being the subject of the book almost as much as TBN. I didn’t anticipate that happening.
BOYETT: Let’s talk about that. You wrote about the passion you saw among the crowds at one of televangelist Benny Hinn’s crusades, especially their theology of the Holy Spirit, and you said it exposed some of the holes in your Lutheran tradition. Did the project deepen your faith?
BOLZ-WEBER: Completely. What the church should be doing is admitting that there are other traditions that do things better than we do. Rather than looking at people and saying “Here’s what they’re doing wrong and here’s what we’re doing right,” maybe it should be the opposite. Maybe that would bring us to a fuller, deeper expression of what it means to be the Body of Christ. Instead what we tend to do—and I include myself in this—is be prideful and superior.
BOYETT: The emotionalism of TBN isn’t very Lutheran.
BOLZ-WEBER: Lutherans tend to think salvation comes through theological and liturgical precision. We’re suspicious of emotionalism and don’t really access the heart. It made me realize this is maybe one of our shortcomings. By seeing such a full expression of emotions, even though I disagree with these people theologically, I couldn’t be cynical about it. They seemed to be really moved by being in the Benny Hinn crusade. I could be cynical about Benny Hinn, but not the faith of the people who were coming.
BOYETT: You kept asking yourself, “What if we’re both right? What if God can work in both traditions?”
BOLZ-WEBER: That is not the conclusion I wanted to come to, but it was the one I was left with. Namely the fact that God’s work in the world can be done through theology and means I think are horrible [laughter]. I don’t like that conclusion, but if I have even a modicum of humility that’s the conclusion I have to come to because it allows [for] the fact that God’s work can even be done through me as a deeply flawed partner.
BOYETT: You also had a lot to say about the pervasiveness of prosperity teaching on TBN. The viewers were constantly asked to “sow a seed of faith” so they could reap a financial blessing. Why does that theology appear so frequently?
BOLZ-WEBER: It would be difficult for me to say with any certainty, but my guess is that people are disempowered. They feel they are without hope. And here are these people on the TV screen who look like they’ve achieved such success, such physical and spiritual perfection, and they’re saying, “Just take a few simple steps, follow my instructions. I’ve achieved some sort of perfection, so trust that. Sow a seed into my ministry and you’ll achieve some sort of perfection as well.” People can really cling to false hope. We all do. That’s what the advertising industry is founded on.
I don’t understand it. And one of those things I had to concede was that, frankly, I’ve never felt disempowered in my life. If these preachers are preaching to people who are disempowered and disaffected, who am I to criticize it? Maybe their audience is getting something out of it I’ll never understand because I’ve never been in their position.
BOYETT: At one point you were observing Benny Hinn’s staginess and emotional manipulation, you asked whether Hinn really thought he was doing God’s work or if he was an outright fraud. You don’t really reach an answer, but neither option is very encouraging.
BOLZ-WEBER: I know. It’s disturbing. But, you know, I think I’m doing God’s work. Is there more of a likelihood that I’m wrong than Benny Hinn’s wrong?
BOYETT: But your platform is a lot smaller. If you’re wrong, fewer people are hurt by it.
BOLZ-WEBER: [Laughter] People have not given quite as much money to me as they have to Benny Hinn.
BOYETT: You were watching with your friend Holly, a Presbyterian pastor and professor, and you were impressed that she saw the good in what was happening on screen but still maintained a critical stance. And you wished you could set aside your cynicism to do that. Has the project resulted in any personal changes along those lines?
BOLZ-WEBER: I don’t know that I’ve tried to pull myself up by my spiritual bootstraps to be a better person. As a Lutheran, I kind of reject that idea. But I honestly feel that God has softened my heart in some ways. I’m a social progressive, but I really don’t like being called a liberal, mainly because there is as much arrogance and finger pointing in the liberal church as there is on the other side. I think God is calling me to explore what it means to really transcend that dynamic of standing in your own righteousness and pointing at the Other—whether that person is conservative or liberal.
BOYETT: What was the craziest thing you saw?
BOLZ-WEBER: One was Marilyn Hickey, who wrote a book called Dealing with Daddy’s Demons, which sounded more like a porn film. But anyway, if you bought the book, she would include these stickers. It was the international “ban” sign—a red circle with a slash—on top of the devil with a pitchfork and horns. This was a sticker that you were to place on the bottom of your shoe to help stamp out demonic forces. I thought, “How much for just the sticker?” They would be amazing stocking-stuffers for my friends.
The second thing was TBN getting ready for their big fundraising event, the “Praise-a-Thon.” They had all these women coming down from the audience, singing a hymn and dipping their fingers into “Holy Land Anointing Oil,” so they could anoint the computers and phone banks for the Praise-a-Thon. I thought, you know, as a religious humorist? My job is done. I can’t actually add anything to that to make it crazier.
BOYETT: What bothered you the most about the entire experience?
BOLZ-WEBER: At the end of their shows, the hosts—all of them—would always look right into the camera in their studio and say [to the viewer] “Have I told you recently how much I love you and what great things God has in store for you?” The part that disturbed me was, first, that it was so obviously manipulative. But secondly I wondered, “How is the actual Church at fault letting this substitute for an actual Christian community? What are we not doing that allows this to take place?”
BOYETT: Does that realization inform your pastoral work?
BOLZ-WEBER: I take the fact that people are isolated very seriously, so I try to express my care for them directly and sincerely. [I] don’t assume that they know I care about them, but actually show it in my actions and words. There are a lot of people out there who really don’t have community. I’m more and more convinced that the socially awkward are “the least of these” [of whom Jesus speaks in Matthew 25:40].
BOYETT: Are televangelists and Christian television shows meeting a need? At least for the disempowered or the socially challenged?
BOLZ-WEBER: They’re obviously meeting a need, but I think the Church has to stand convicted in some way of being complicit in creating that need.
BOYETT: Have you watched TBN since finishing the book?
BOLZ-WEBER: Maybe 10 minutes, but that’s all. We had to get cable so I could do the project. Then we got rid of it.
Nadia Bolz-Weber blogs at www.sarcasticlutheran.com. You can learn more about her church, House for All Sinners and Saints, at www.houseforall.org. Jason Boyett is a writer and speaker in Texas and the author of several books. He maintains a typically self-involved blog at www.jasonboyett.com.