Years ago, a deacon in my Texas
congregation took Pat and me to hear Rush Limbaugh. The best known of the conservative radio
personalities had only recently gone national and the deacon was a fan. I’d heard Rush’s broadcasts and thought about
half of what he said was meant to be taken with a shovel of salt, thinking he
was chiefly an entertainer. After
reading one of his books, I reduced that estimate to about twenty percent. This guy was serious.
Anyway, I don’t listen to talk
radio much anymore. (I don’t listen to “Christian” radio much anymore either,
but for different reasons—too many fine preachers/teachers have gone
political. But that’s another
story.) Instead, I listen to recorded
books when I’m in the car, seldom listening to radio any other time. But, once in a while, I finish a book and
don’t immediately get a new one. Then,
sometimes, I turn on the talk shows.
Using “talent on loan from God,” Rush
is still the alpha dog; but there are newer players eager to take his place. I’m sure they share some fans but I’m equally
sure the new shows have fans who find Rush too moderate. I find some of Rush’s barking annoying but
the new dogs’ barking I find scary.
Why scary? There are key differences between Rush and
the new radio hosts. A quarter-century
has hardly endowed Rush with humility; his demeanor still says, “My opponents
disagree with me because they’re stupid!”
The newer hosts say, in essence, “My opponents disagree with me because
they’re evil!”
Injecting moral categories into
political debate is hardly new. In early
nineteenth century America, both opponents and proponents of slavery believed
their positions were biblically sanctioned, therefore placing them on the moral
high ground. What made the debates particularly intense was the fact both sides
found evidence to support their case.
But the newer hosts imbue every disagreement with moral
significance. There is, for example,
something sinister behind gun-control legislation: it is the first step toward
totalitarian government. (It’s hardly surprising, then, that one show is
sponsored by the manufacturer of gun-safes.)
I support the traditional understanding of the Second Amendment, but I
certainly understand how good people might disagree. In 1992, I attended a statewide conference
for Ohio Baptists. One speaker, an
African-American pastor of a large urban church, spoke in favor of gun control. Now, remember, I was newly arrived from Texas
where receiving a gun on your thirteenth birthday is a rite of passage, so his
message was something I would have never heard there. As I listened, I realized
this pastor had probably buried too many victims of gun violence for him to
support the status quo. I suspect some of the new hosts would label this
compassionate pastor’s plea as radical.
Just as significant as expressing
their moral outrage, the new hosts use fear and an appeal to gnostic
camaraderie to build their fan base. These elements are not entirely absent from
Limbaugh’s program but I think Rush is more likely to appeal to the latter than
the former—in fact, he accuses liberals of fomenting fear. And the gnosis
or special knowledge Rush may attribute to his fans comes either from their
basic common sense or their own experiences with liberals. But the new hosts imply the gnosis they provide is available only on
their radio programs or, especially, on their subscriber-only Internet
offerings. The gnostic appeal reflects the mantra that the mainstream media is
hopelessly biased and determined to keep the truth from the average
American. (Now, don’t misunderstand: I
think the media is often biased but I don’t need a radio guru to point that
out.)
Glenn Beck first came to Columbus
radio a day or two after the 9/11 attacks.
I first thought his sarcasm funny, though sometimes cruel. Back then he regularly suggested truth tends
to be found somewhere between the extremes. Now, years later, he has no place
for moderation or room for differences of opinion.
Recently Beck welcomed a third party
candidate to his program. In response to
one of Beck’s questions, the candidate listed the past presidents he admired, including
Theodore Roosevelt in the list. Moments
later, once the interview was over, Beck said he thought the candidate had good
ideas but had used two words he could not stand. The two words? “Theodore Roosevelt.” Beck sees Roosevelt as an example of
progressivism in American politics. A
candidate whose credentials might satisfy most conservatives displeased Beck
because he admired Roosevelt.
On Beck’s show there’s an
occasional hint of a peculiar political correctness, something most conservatives
despise. Only days ago, one of the
co-hosts referred to a politician as “a liberal;” immediately, using a tone one
might use to apologize for uttering a racial slur, the co-host said, “I mean a
progressive.” He certainly wasn’t
apologizing to me and I doubt ninety-nine percent of the show’s listeners
noticed the term he used. I can only
surmise the co-host knew Beck would care.
And care a lot. The presence of “progressivism”
in American politics is Beck’s gnosis, the
secret knowledge he and his listeners share.
Far more than often than Limbaugh,
Beck brings on experts to bolster his claims.
Among these is David Barton, the go-to historian for those wishing to
show America began as a “Christian nation.”
Stephens and Giberson, in their book The
Anointed: Evangelical Truth in a Secular Age, point out that Barton turns
Ben Franklin into “a Bible-believing Christian.” For many American Christians it is easier to
believe all our founders had credentials as bona-fide believers than to believe
they were secularists at heart; easier to believe, for instance, that Jefferson
was a Christian rather than a rationalist who admired Jesus, but not the Jesus
of Christian orthodoxy and certainly not the Jesus whose admirable life had
been distorted by gospel writers who cluttered up his story with miracles. Good evangelical historians cannot endorse
most of Barton’s claims about the nation’s origins. Yet, helped by Beck’s
endorsement, Barton’s books have been best sellers.
Beck is a Mormon, a fact he gladly
acknowledges. His gratitude to the group
that rescued him from a self-destructive lifestyle is understandable and
commendable in a day when many show contempt for faith. And even though I’ve known some who stopped
listening when they learned of Beck’s religion, his being a Mormon in no way invalidates
his opinions on the American political landscape. Of course, his being a Mormon
in no way validates his opinions either.
His opinions must be judged on their own merits. Yet, his being a Mormon means I will be
especially resistant to allowing him to shape my theology. I mention this because in recent years Beck
has attempted to address theological issues—especially those related to the
last days. It’s important because what
Christians believe about the last days will shape their lifestyle and vision
for their role in the world. An
unbalanced, unbiblical view of the last days will produce more despair than
hope. In the end, just as just as I
don’t want my radio pastors to play at being political pundits, I don’t want my
political pundits to play at being radio pastors.
It’s been well over a half-century
(wow, really) since I last sang, “Be careful little ears what you hear. There’s
a Father up above and He’s looking down in love, so be careful little ears what
you hear.” In thinking about that Sunday
school song, I realize we can’t always control what we hear. But we can control what we listen to. You know, the voices we allow to shape our
opinions and form our world-picture. At
its best, talk radio informs us and then helps us synthesize that
information. But the temptation is to
let the hosts do the thinking for us.
This is true whether we are listening to what my son likes to call
“right wing radio” or NPR. We cannot
jettison our responsibility to fact-check and to evaluate the ideas coming to
us out of the radio or over the Internet.
Finally, as Christians we should
evaluate what we invite into our “little ears.” Does what you listen to leave
you feeling hopeless, wondering if even God has lost control? Does what you listen to erode your confidence
in the gospel to make a difference in the world? Does what you listen to fill you with anger,
especially toward those who think differently?
Does what you listen to make you less likely to share Christ’s love with
those who hold the views or practice the lifestyles condemned on the
radio? Does what you listen to make you
resistant to sharing a hymnal with the liberal/conservative sharing the pew
with you? Does what you listen to make
you feel prayer is useless? How you
answer those questions can help determine if you should turn the dial on the
radio.
As for me, I’ve just visited the
library and checked-out a recorded book.
