I am obsessed with The Simpsons. I will, in all seriousness and with full conviction, argue that it is the greatest television show of all time, and that Homer Simpson, simultaneously the best and worst father there is, is one of the greatest characters of all time.
As a person of faith, as a campus minister, and as a theologian, I am attentive to the moments when religion, spirituality, and God make their way into The Simpsons, and I have frequently utilized the show in my ministry as an out-of-the-box, humorous way to engage with this stuff. And it is effective because The Simpsons is a thoroughly smart, well-crafted show, evident especially when its episodes touch on these topics.
When Homer joins Hullabalooza’s traveling freak show, Bart interviews him for a school project. Bart asks Homer what religion he is, and Homer responds, “You know, the one with all the well-meaning rules that never work out in real life? Uhhh... Christianity.” In a later episode (which I'll profile below), a Christian missionary preaches to Homer, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” to which Homer responds, “Yeah, that’ll work.”
The approach of The Simpsons to Christianity could safely be characterized as loving satire. The tone is definitely critical, but it never goes so far as to suggest that Christianity or religion should be abandoned altogether. The show has an understated appreciation for religion and its positive function in society, with a special tip of the cap to the The Big Guy Upstairs, who is the only character in the show depicted with five fingers.
“The Joy of Sect” (full synopsis | full episode)
Homer attends a free resort weekend hosted by The Movementarians, a religious group recruiting new members, and eventually, Homer commits his family to joining the religion, which eventually subsumes Bart, Lisa, and Maggie, too, leaving Marge as the lone holdout.
On the whole, this episode effectively lampoons many effective elements of religion. First, as many guests on the free resort weekend are weakening in their resistance, the ministers start a chant. Sensing that Homer may be hooked by the catchy chorus, they try some call-and-response because “everyone loves a droll, repetitive chant,” a nod to the chants, songs, and hymns of religious traditions that become so fundamental to worship.
Additionally, as Reverend Lovejoy criticizes the cult while preaching to his now very small congregation, he preaches that the cult’s allure “is nothing but a pack of weird rituals and chants designed to take away the money of fools.” He then initiates the passing of the collection plate and asks that they pray the Lord’s Prayer together forty times. Meanwhile, Homer tells his family -- which has left its congregation in the Western Branch of Reformed Presbylutheranism -- they are joining The Movementarians, to which Bart replies, “Cult, church; church, cult -- so we get bored someplace else every Sunday. Does this really change our day-to-day lives?,” a fine jab at the frequent tedium of regular worship. Those who practice religion know the humdrum of religious practice but hopefully also find that the structure and routine of it, especially Catholic Christianity, are there to facilitate intimacy with the divine and its mysteries and create a heartbeat rhythm for the spiritual life. This is an easy moment for me to laugh.
Interestingly, while the cult easily sways many of the citizens of Springfield -- a town not known for its intellect -- they struggle mightily to recruit Homer. As Homer considers attending their free resort weekend, Lisa cautions her father, “Watch yourself, dad, you’re the highly suggestible type,” to which Homer of course responds, “I am the highly suggestible type.” However, the tactics of the cult’s ministers don’t get through the Homer whose fickle interest, short attention span, and insatiable appetite thwart their tactics.
With frustration, they bemoan, “It’s no use; he’s obviously the most powerful mind we’ve ever dealt with.” The kernel of truth here is that “new religious movements” (the academic name for what are usually colloquially called “cults”) often succeed more with educated people rather than uneducated people. One theory is that the often outlandish, wild narratives they create can appeal effectively to educated people who process the story and find some sort of satisfactory and consistent internal logic to it while “dumber” people dismiss it more quickly, especially if it’s complicated.
Lisa comments that she sees the effects of mental conditioning in her father, which hints at the ultimate inefficacy of the cult, especially relative to authentic, ideal religion practice. True religion requires free consent, even if that entails some leap of personal faith. On the other hand, The Movementarians combine the gentle, no-pressure invitation of “You’re free to leave at any time” with heavy social pressures and major expectations on buying in. High expectations are predictive hallmarks of good religious communities: the communities that succeed are those that expect much of their members -- consistent presence, investment in the ministries, contributions to the budget, etc. -- while the communities that lower their standards often fall apart. Fittingly so, The Movementarians and their strict initiatory criteria, at least initially, thrive. However, the flimsy convictions of their members ultimately contribute to the easy and fast downfall of the movement.
The interesting metaphor in this episode is the manner in which joining and de-affiliating ensues. Real life Catholicism involves the Sacraments of Initiation and social commitment to a parish; The Movementarians take your life savings, the deed to your house, and a commitment of ten trillion years of labor, all up front. Whereas real life Catholicism involves cycles of doubt, hesitation, and laziness as we grapple with practicing our faith, leaving The Movementarians involves navigating a literal obstacle course (complete with barbed wire, animals, and other hazards) and weathering legal disputes by lawyers who view you as church property. The exaggeration helps show how religious belonging can be misconstrued and overdone, and how true belonging cannot be solely monetary or legalistic.
Ultimately, this episode shows the dangers of putting anything besides God in the top slot of any hierarchy. Any person, organization, community, etc. that attempts this will always be exposed for the idol/fraud that it is. It calls to mind Acts 5:38-39, when Gamaliel comments on the early Church: “For if this endeavor or this activity is of human origin, it will destroy itself. But if it comes from God, you will not be able to destroy them; you may even find yourselves fighting against God.” At the end of the twenty-two minutes, The Leader turns out to be just some Joe Schmoe on a bicycle-helicopter with a phony spaceship that, taking the metaphor to a literal level, falls apart. During his literal downfall, The Leader rues, “I should have stayed with The Promise Keepers,” a nod to the ephemeral nature of these cults. Moe, a classic rudderless ship who doesn’t know who he is or what he thinks, echoes the sentiment, “It fell apart like everything else I’ve ever believed in.” While poking fun at Christianity and established religions, this episode ends with a subtle tip of the cap to the religions that sustain their believers in legitimate, authentic community founded on our best human understanding of Truth.
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