Occasioning the most recent cultural clash between people of
faith and the entertainment industry, NBC last week aired the pilot
for a controversial new television drama. The Book of
Daniel focuses on the family of an Episcopal priest who
regularly pops vicodin. His wife is a little too fond of martinis,
his daughter is dealing drugs, one son is gay — and the other is
sleeping with the daughter of the church’s warden. The priest has a
newly widowed sister-in-law engaged in a lesbian affair, one of his
confidantes is a Catholic priest with Mob ties, and his mother is
afflicted with Alzheimer’s (brace yourself for the inevitable
“right to die” episode).
Despite all his problems — perhaps because of them — the
priest/protagonist of The Book of Daniel is depicted very
sympathetically. He’s accepting of his son’s homosexuality, and is
even willing to share his own marital experiences with a couple in
premarital counseling who consult him about some sexual issues of
their own. And Jesus Himself appears to this priest and speaks with
him — albeit a hippified Jesus, with quite a flippant wit (when
the priest asks him, “Aren’t you supposed to comfort me?” this
“Jesus” indulges in a little repartee: “Where’d you read that? Some
Episcopalian [sic] self-help book?”).
So why should people of faith have a “problem” with The Book
of Daniel? After all, the priest is clearly a “good guy”; so
is Jesus. How could the traditionally religious possibly object to
a program about a priest when its writers are so obviously fond of
the main character — and Jesus, too?
Well — as with so much of life — sometimes, affection simply
isn’t enough. There’s plenty that’s objectionable about The
Book of Daniel, starting with its premise. The entire plot
seems designed to undermine respect for the clergy — the priest’s
circumstances practically force viewers to wonder: If clergymen’s
lives can be that messed up, what gives them the moral authority to
tell me what I should do?
Nor is The Book of Daniel’s obvious empathy for its
beleaguered hero enough to redeem it. In fact, the main character
is portrayed as sympathetic precisely because he holds
Hollywood-approved attitudes on sensitive issues like homosexuality
and premarital sex. Whatever credibility the program vouchsafes the
clergy is, in the end, used only to validate behavior that many
religious traditionalists still believe to be wrong.
Most offensively, Jesus Himself is used in the same way. The
character’s “laid-back” demeanor (one expects a stray “dude!” to
issue from His mouth at any minute) sends a message in itself,
insofar as the attitude is one commonly associated with a liberal
social mind-set. “Jesus” reacts to the priest’s daughter’s drug
peddling by declaring, “She’ll be fine; she’s a good girl.” About
the son engaging in premarital sex with the warden’s daughter, He’s
dismissive: “[The son] is a kid; let him be a kid.” The message?
Jesus has no problem with drug dealing and premarital sex — so why
should you?
Even in this “take no prisoners” age, there are certain figures
that should be exempt from conscription into the modern-day culture
wars — and Jesus is one of them. Certainly, it would be wrong for
theological conservatives to create a “Jesus” character and give
him lines to parrot in order to advance their positions on the most
controversial issues of the day. But it’s just as wrong for
theological liberals and secularists to do so. After all, Jesus has
some pretty good “lines” in the Bible that can certainly stand on
their own.
Given its somewhat clunky dialogue and undisputed downer of a
plot, it’s far from clear that The Book of Daniel will
last long. But if Hollywood carries away one message from the
traditionally religious T.V. watchers of America, perhaps it should
be this: Keep your agendas off our faith.
