Sunday, August 9, 1998

Vending-machine theology borders on paganism

By Michael O'Connor / Abilene Reporter-News

While channel surfing the other day, I ran across what appeared to be an infomercial. A narrator was describing the trials of a middle-aged couple struggling to make ends meet. He had recently retired from the military, and they had enough debts to whittle their monthly income down considerably.

They lived for awhile with grown children, then moved into an apartment that was too small to contain their cherished belongings, and longed for the time when they could move into a house.

I expected this to be one of those shows where some joker explains how he can show us the secret to making a fortune by buying and selling real estate with no money down, or how the couple overcame their difficulties using some secret the huckster had developed that he would share with all us viewers for just a small chunk of our life's savings.

Then the woman shared the secret: She had made a $1,000 vow to God in accordance with the principles revealed in the book of a famous, or infamous, Texas televangelist -- to whom, no doubt, the money was sent. Lo and behold, the very next day everything in the couple's lives changed. She obtained a good job, a mortgage was approved for their dream house -- a monstrous-looking two-story in Somewhere, U.S.A., and life for them was just grand.

Without listening another moment, I surfed on. I had hoped this sort of theology had died out, but I should have known better.

I can certainly understand the popularity of vending-machine spirituality. Who wouldn't want to plunk down a grand and have all their dreams fulfilled? Especially when a careful reader can find all sorts of Bible passages that seem to affirm the theology's validity.

But one of the lectures I remember best from seminary was about the way paganism differed from the Judeo-Christian understanding of the world. My prof said that paganism viewed the world as a closed system, with the gods and humans all inside the system. What affected one affected the other, much like a hydraulic jack -- push down on the handle, and the platform on the other side has to rise. Perform a sacrifice, fulfill a vow, and the gods are bound to act appropriately.

But in Judaism and Christianity, the system was open. God and humans interact in relationship, but our religious acts don't make God do anything.

Of course this is all a simplistic way of looking at religious beliefs, but the theology espoused by the televangelist comes dangerously close to paganism.

I can hear someone sputtering that I'm missing the point entirely. After all, God is the one who made the promises, we're just taking advantage of them.

But I do get the point. And when the same people start laying hold of the scriptural promises of suffering for God's people with the same fervor they have in claiming promises of prosperity, then maybe I'll think about watching that infomercial all the way through.

Michael O'Connor is news editor for the Abilene Reporter-News and is an ordained United Methodist minister. Reach him at P.O. Box 30, Abilene, TX, 79601 or by e-mail at oconnorm@abinews.com.