Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, October 19, 1994 TAG: 9411150053
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-10 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MARSHALL FISHWICK
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
It has. The fastest-growing region of the country, with unique achievements and projects, the area H.L. Mencken called the Bible Belt, overrun with rebels and rednecks, is setting the pace for America in the l990s. Atlanta outbid both Athens and Beijing to land the 1996 World Olympics. The Southern Tilt is bringing talent, industry and capital from the North that once held Dixie in bondage. Praise the Lord!
Which is what the South has been doing ever since the Great Frontier Revival swept over its land in the 18th century. An American-style religion emerged, and became the functioning democracy for the disenfranchised and dispossessed. Every person stood equal with every other person before God. Those who repented would be saved. The concept of "minister" gave way to "soul saver." Two time-honored traditions were born - hell-raising and heart-breaking: fears and tears. Thousands "got the jerks." It was a watershed in American religious history
Popular tunes were turned into evangelical hymns. Emotion, free expression and music merged. So did new folk sayings. "A white mule never dies," people liked to say. "When he gets real old he turns into a Baptist preacher."
Throughout the South, religious revivals have never gone out of style, even though America has become increasingly secular. Especially in the Deep South, in the period when cotton has been picked and tobacco laid by, the Spirit flares up. Souls are saved by prayer, repentance and fried chicken. It's amazing grace.
In the Roanoke of my childhood, a big tent meant one of three things: a circus, a medicine show or a religious revival. A favorite revival spot was a vacant lot on Jamison Avenue. I still can recall the incredible emotional fervor.
Once television entered the scene, the Southern accent dominated the religious channels. Oral Roberts' 1970 Thanksgiving Special reached 27 million people. He had learned how to combine simple theology, complex technology and old-time religion. Virginians learned a lot about televangelism, since two of its superstars were Jerry Falwell (in Lynchburg) and Pat Robertson (in Virginia Beach.) Finding a natural ally and friend in Ronald Reagan, Falwell's Moral Majority made national news, and influenced political platforms and elections. He got international attention when he debated at England's Oxford University in 1984, and visited South Africa in 1985. By denouncing Bishop Desmond Tutu, Nobel Peace Prize-winner, as a "phony," he lost much support. But he continues to preach fundamentalism, and to insist that his Liberty College will become "the Harvard of academics and the Notre Dame of sports."
Once, when I visited Jerry Falwell's church, ushers passed the money plate three times in one service. It reminded me of Bob Hope's story about flying in a plane hit by lightning. "Do something religious!" a woman screamed. "So I did," Hope recalled. "I took up a collection."
Pat Robertson's Christian Broadcast Network, centered in Virginia Beach, fared better. A Yale graduate, son of a U.S. senator, Robertson used his tax-exempt ministry to launch a complex web of organizations. He founded Regent University at Virginia Beach, which now has an endowment of more than a $100 million. By 1994, "The 700 Club," a daily religious TV series, had 7 million weekly viewers, and Northstar Entertainment was distributing TV, video and family films. He had a radio news network and The Family Channel - 10th largest cable channel, with 57 million subscribers. His International Family Entertainment Inc. grew into a $150 million-a-year conglomerate. When IFE shares came on the market in 1992, the Robertson initial investment of $183,00 soared to $90 million - a gain of 4,900 percent.
But his most spectacular gains were political. His Christian Coalition, a political activist organization with 450,000 members, held a "Road to Victory" meeting in 1994, attended by virtually every potential Republican presidential candidate. While many fundamentalists stayed out of politics, Pat jumped in with both feet. He found common cause with the Republicans; picked winners and helped make winners. He even decided to be one himself.
In 1988, Pat announced he'd run for the presidency - if 3 million people signed his petition. He got the signatures and $27 million by April 1988, when he suspended his campaign. Even so, he got 40 percent of the vote in three state caucuses and 18 percent in five state primaries. He tried again in 1992, distributed 40 million copies of a voter's guide, and had considerable influence on the Republican National Platform.
Robertson and his many allies have worked diligently at the grass-roots level, with considerable success. They were crucial to Ollie North's being the 1994 Republican nominee for senator from Virginia. Funds have poured in from all over the nation, including that Republican bastion of Orange County, Calif. With visions of a possible Republican landslide in November, there is talk of Robertson's trying for the White House again in 1996. His motto, featured in the Oct. 3 issue of Newsweek: "With God there is no cap."
Many people have criticized televangelism with its buzzwords, simple solutions and quick fixes (spiritual, physical and mental). The true enemy may not be religious television but television itself. We are addicted to televised sports, soaps and pseudo events. America, the land of the free, the 30-second sound bite and Simpsonmania. Religion has got into the act.
We must beware of concluding or condemning too soon. Is popular religion mass religion, controlled by mass media, or religion "of the people," controlled by the people themselves? When we measure growth and impact by ratings, receipts and polls, are we dealing with substance or surface scratchings?
Surely the greatest preacher of our time was not a televangelist but Martin Luther King Jr. His style, rhetoric, roots were all Southern. Standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial, he preached the message heard round the world. Now he belongs to the world.
Popular religion and popular culture have become electronic Siamese twins, with evangelism the heartbeat. Perhaps Jerry Falwell is right when he says fundamentalism has hijacked the plane of evangelism; and so might be Professor Robert Petty, noting that "the trigger has been pulled, and fundamentalism has been propelled into the 'social unrest' phase." How much unrest, where, and how soon? Will the wall that Jefferson helped build between church and state crumble? Answers to these questions will help shape America in the fast-approaching 21st century.
Marshall Fishwick is a professor of humanities and communications studies at Virginia Tech.
by CNB