Timely Re-post: Mark Sanford and the failure of pop culture evangelicalism

[NOTE: This article was originally posted on June 30, 2009. In light of recent events, I think it is appropriate to re-post it at this time.]

Pop culture mythology portrays "evangelical Christians," lumped together under the umbrella of the "Religious Right," as a potent--even dangerous--force in American politics. In reality, however, the "evangelicalism" so often maligned by the pop culture is largely a product of that culture itself. From the outmoded escapist fantasies of "rapture ready" dispensationalism to the trendy fads of the "Emergent Church," the similarities between pop culture evangelicalism and genuine Christianity are few and far between.

A stinging indictment against one of the major shortcomings of pop culture evangelicalism is the sorry episode involving South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford. As Lloyd Fonvielle sees it, Sanford's "culture" failed him.

Sanford's case feels more complex, and interesting. He's clearly still in love with his Argentinian bombshell, if by love we mean the pussy-fever associated with a new and transgressive sexual relationship. Some failing in the right-wing Christian culture he inhabits seems to have left him unprepared to deal with the power of that fever -- you get a sense he was blindsided by it, and is still reeling from the blow.

Perhaps there is something about the rhetoric of his culture that minimizes the exaltation of sexual love, relating it too exclusively to law and duty, downplaying its delirious joy, leaving the members of that culture defenseless when the real thing emerges or re-emerges in their lives.

When it comes to adultery, I'm agin' it -- I don't see it as a "pecadillo" but as a profound, existentially crippling moral failing . . . yet at the same time less about the sex involved than about a violation of trust that can almost literally rip the heart out of a partner. No amount of personal pleasure or fulfillment can justify it, but you need to have a healthy appreciation of just how much personal pleasure and fulfillment it can deliver to know what you're up against when it presents itself.

I don't think Mark Sanford had a clue. In his e-mails to his mistress he sounds like a lovesick and somewhat bewildered teenager. How did he get to the age of 49 in that condition of emotional immaturity?

The particular "failing in the right wing Christian culture" here is a view of sin as merely the violation of a moral law ("God's law," to use one of Sanford's favorite terms) with little or no emphasis on the larger problem of depravity being the natural state of the fallen human condition. This is an essentially Pelagian view which reduces repentance to little more than saying, "I'm sorry and I'll try to do better next time." There is no need for divine grace, just a more earnest human effort to try harder to stay out of trouble. But trouble will always find you if you rely on your own strength, rather than on the grace of God alone, which awakens true repentance and a radical change of heart and mind.

Pop culture evangelicalism is hardly the monolithic monster so foolishly feared by the cultural left. Its minimalist expression of the faith will never transform even one individual, much less an entire culture.

Weigel: We have been found

George Weigel challenges the popular "spiritual seeker" meme by delving deeper into the biblical narrative.

On the Solemnity of the Epiphany, I heard a sermon—a rather well-delivered one at that—about the Magi as religious “seekers.” The same note, I’ll wager, was struck from pulpits and ambos across the country, perhaps across the world.

But isn’t there something a bit askew here?

Isn’t the point of Matthew’s tale of the “wise men from the East” (Matthew 2:1) that they were finders, not just seekers? Moreover, isn’t the further point that what was found was “he who has been born king of the Jews,” to whom they, gentiles from afar, wished to offer gifts? Don’t we lose the evangelical thrust of this charming story of seers, stars and caravans, “gold and frankincense and myrrh” (Matthew 2:11), when we focus on the seeking, not the finding, which was the first moment of messianic encounter with the gentile world (meaning most-of-us)?

I don’t want to overstate the indictment. All believers are “seekers,” in that we obey the prophet’s injunction to “seek the Lord while he may be found” (Isaiah 55:6). Still, the point is not about the seeking, but about the finding. More than two millennia after they trekked across the Levant following a star, the Magi are of interest—indeed, compelling interest—because of who awaited them at the end of their search: a Jewish child who would become the redeemer, not only of his own people, but of all people. If the Magi had wandered about Central Asia and the Middle East for decade after decade, they would be of little interest, save perhaps as chroniclers of ancient cultures. No, the point is that the Magi were religious finders, not just religious seekers. And what they found was the fulfillment of their search.

There’s another problem with our contemporary emphasis on religious “seeking”: It tends to miss the fundamental dynamic of biblical religion and to confuse faith in the God of the Bible with “spirituality.” Go through the “spirituality” section of an online bookstore or browse the “spirituality” stacks of an old-fashioned bookshop, and you’ll find a lot about the human quest for God. That is not what biblical religion is about, however. Biblical religion is about God’s coming into history in search of us, and our learning to take the same path into the future that God is taking.

Abraham, whom the Roman Canon calls “our father in faith,” was not some generic spiritual seeker. Abraham, or Abram (as he then was), was a unique individual to whom God spoke disturbing and challenging words: Abram was to go on a journey to another land, led by God, who was now entering history in a new and saving way. In that promised land, God would make of Abram, who would be re-named Abraham, a “great nation and … a blessing” (Genesis 12:2). Abram-become-Abraham was to follow God’s path through history. God has the salvific initiative; God comes in search of us. We are not seekers without a compass. Nor are we just finders; we are those who have been found.

The same dynamic pervades the Gospels. There, Jesus does not appear as a homely sage who attracts disciples because he does better cures than the local medical people and tells interesting moral stories. No, Jesus says, bluntly, “Follow me” (Matthew 4:19; Mark 1:17). In John’s account, two disciples of the Baptist ask Jesus, “Where are you staying?” To which Jesus replies, “Come and see” (John 1:38-39). The initiative in salvation history is always a divine initiative. God leads; we follow. God comes into history in search of us; we learn, often slowly and with difficulty, to follow the divine lead.

In the terms in which it presents itself today, the notion of the Christian life as a matter of spiritual “seeking” usually has more to do with our culture of self-absorption than with biblical religion. In the Bible, God’s revelation is discerned in history, not outside of it, inside our heads. Seeking, in the sense of deepening our friendship with Jesus, is good; but let’s first understand that we have been found.

One of the most eloquent contemporary expressions of this great biblical truth comes from a most unlikely source. Contemporary Christian Music (CCM) is not always known for its theological precision, but this Christmas song from Barlow Girl (which is also most appropriate for the Epiphany season) might well be an anthem for the "religious finder" who rejoices in having been found.

Hallelujah!
We’ve been found
A Child is born
To save us now, Jesus!
Hallelujah! Light has come
A Savior who will set us free
A Promise for those who believe

You can't make this stuff up: "All we are saying is give sex a chance!"

Cheesy gimmicks by flamboyant preachers are an unfortunate by-product of "contextualization," the watchword of the "Emergent" crowd and other pop culture evangelicals. In the case of Ed Young, however, the gimmickry is rapidly degenerating from Belgioso to Velveeta.

Evangelical pastor Ed Young believes Christians should practice what they preach, which is why he and his wife Lisa plan to spend 24 hours this Friday in bed on the roof of his church, streaming the marathon bed-in live on the Internet.

No, the Youngs won't be having sex, though that's an important part of the message they're spreading to members of their megachurch in Grapevine, Texas. Instead, the couple will be hosting an open discussion about marriage, relationships, sex and other topics covered in their new book, "Sexperiment: 7 Days to Lasting Intimacy with Your Spouse," which explores ways for married Christian couples to develop and maintain healthy sex lives. 

"Tragically, culture has kicked the bed out of church and God out of the bed," Rev. Ed Young told the Christian Post. "It's time to bring God back in the bed and put the bed back in the church. That's what this bed-in is all about."

Starting at 6 a.m. on Friday, Jan. 13, the Youngs plan to begin streaming their daylong discussion of sex and intimacy on their book's official website, the Christian Post reports.

They're also encouraging audience members to submit questions or discussion topics via Facebook and Twitter as they present their views on marriage, some of which continue to raise eyebrows.

One belief in particular, the "seven-day sex challenge" for which "Sexperiment" is named, gained national attention when the Youngs introduced it to parishioners in 2008.

The couple challenged Christian couples to have sex every day for a week in the belief that open and active sex lives, strengthens the bond between married couples and reduces temptation for pornography and other addictions.

The challenge has certainly proven successful for the Youngs, who have been "happily married" for nearly 30 years, working together to run the church Ed founded. Preaching to a congregation estimated at around 30,000, Young's influence continues to grow as he hosts a weekly television program and promotes the numerous books he's written prior to "Sexperiment."

According to WFAA-TV News Dallas, which conducted an investigation on Young in 2010, the pastor earns a salary worth about $1 million per year and generates untold profits from various intellectual property holdings including books, sermons, television programs, and mailing lists obtained from church marketing websites.

Such an outrageous publicity stunt is as hip as last century's headlines. Pastor and Mrs. Young seem to be taking their cue not from Jesus, but from two gurus in drag.

Douthat's case for Hell

Ross Douthat argues for the doctrine of hell, and manages to slip in a few pop culture sign posts along the way.

Atheists have license to scoff at damnation, but to believe in God and not in hell is ultimately to disbelieve in the reality of human choices. If there’s no possibility of saying no to paradise then none of our no’s have any real meaning either. They’re like home runs or strikeouts in a children’s game where nobody’s keeping score.

In this sense, a doctrine of universal salvation turns out to be as deterministic as the more strident forms of scientific materialism. Instead of making us prisoners of our glands and genes, it makes us prisoners of God himself. We can check out any time we want, but we can never really leave.

The doctrine of hell, by contrast, assumes that our choices are real, and, indeed, that we are the choices that we make. The miser can become his greed, the murderer can lose himself inside his violence, and their freedom to turn and be forgiven is inseparable from their freedom not to do so.

As Anthony Esolen writes, in the introduction to his translation of Dante’s “Inferno,” the idea of hell is crucial to Western humanism. It’s a way of asserting that “things have meaning” — that earthly life is more than just a series of unimportant events, and that “the use of one man’s free will, at one moment, can mean life or death ... salvation or damnation.”

If there’s a modern-day analogue to the “Inferno,” a work of art that illustrates the humanist case for hell, it’s David Chase’s “The Sopranos.” The HBO hit is a portrait of damnation freely chosen: Chase made audiences love Tony Soprano, and then made us watch as the mob boss traveled so deep into iniquity — refusing every opportunity to turn back — that it was hard to imagine him ever coming out. “The Sopranos” never suggested that Tony was beyond forgiveness. But, by the end, it suggested that he was beyond ever genuinely asking for it.

Is Gandhi in hell? It’s a question that should puncture religious chauvinism and unsettle fundamentalists of every stripe. But there’s a question that should be asked in turn: Is Tony Soprano really in heaven?

For the benefit of those unfamiliar with Douthat's sly use of Mephistophelean allegory, the following is presented for your enlightenment.

Pepsi and Doritos sink to new low

H/T to Francis Beckwith.



What makes this particularly rancid is the fact that there are probably a few "Emergent" churches that think would be a "cool" idea!

Russell Moore on misguided Christian outrage

"For everything, there is a season," says the wise preacher, "and a time for every purpose under heaven . . . a time to keep silence, and a time to speak" (Ecclesiastes 3.1, 7b). In this day and age of frequent (and often ill-advised) Christian engagement with the culture, one might say, a time to express legitimate outrage, and a time to avoid showing one's ignorance, especially ignorance of of the biblical narrative which ought to frame Christian engagement with the culture. Such ignorance, all too often, is put on display when well-meaning, but ill-informed, Christians express misguided outrage, as Russell D. Moore observes:

I've been asked several times in the last couple of days about whether I'm upset about the new remix of "We Are the World."



The Christians contacting me about this are disturbed by what they see as a startling omission from the '80s-era song in its 21st century update, performed by artists in support of Haiti relief. Willie Nelson's line "As God has shown us by turning stone to bread..." is gone. These Christians are outraged, and they wonder if I am too.

Well, yes, I am outraged. Willie Nelson should have been invited to participate. He's still every bit as talented as he was in 1985, and if Nick Jonas can be invited, then certainly Willie should've been too.


Oh wait.



That's not what these folks are outraged about. They're afraid this is indicative of the secularization of American pop culture, and that there should be a Christian backlash.



But wait, again.



God didn't turn stones into bread. 

It was Satan, not God, who suggested our Lord Jesus turn rocks into bread (Matt. 4:3-4). God sends bread down from heaven (Exod. 16), a Manna he ultimately gives to us in the body of Jesus (Jn. 6), signified in the communion meal (1 Cor. 11).


I have always thought the original version of "We Are the World" was a textbook illustration of biblical illiteracy. Perhaps someone involved in the remake had the good sense to check the lyrics in question against the actual biblical account. As far as I'm concerned, misquoting Scripture is more offensive than not quoting Scripture at all. But, lest we forget, secular artists have, from time to time, put the actual words of Scripture to music with considerable success.

FYI: This is not a controversial statement

Where, exactly, is the controversy in Brit Hume's advice to Tiger Woods?

It is a matter of fact, not opinion, that Buddhism does not offer the kind of forgiveness and redemption which Christianity offers. Forgiveness and redemption are not the aim of Buddhism because Buddhism has no concept of sin. To make this statement controversial is to be willfully ignorant of the distinctions between Christianity and Buddhism.

Some will argue, of course, that the controversy is not in the comparison of the two religions, but in Hume's suggestion that Woods leave one faith for another. But history bears witness, time and time again, of genuine transformation in the lives of countless persons--celebrities or otherwise--who have turned from the false promises of false religions and embraced the Truth embodied in the Person and work of Jesus Christ.

Tim Fountain suggests some possible reasons for the predictable outcry of the secularists.

Perhaps because a sudden outbreak of spiritual healing and moral decency among high profile people would wipe out the lucrative reality TV industry.

Perhaps because the decline of narcissism would would destroy the melodrama that medicates meaningless lives.

Mark Sanford and the Failure of Pop Culture Evangelicalism

Pop culture mythology portrays "evangelical Christians," lumped together under the umbrella of the "Religious Right," as a potent--even dangerous--force in American politics. In reality, however, the "evangelicalism" so often maligned by the pop culture is largely a product of that culture itself. From the outmoded escapist fantasies of "rapture ready" dispensationalism to the trendy fads of the "Emergent Church," the similarities between pop culture evangelicalism and genuine Christianity are few and far between.

A stinging indictment against one of the major shortcomings of pop culture evangelicalism is the sorry episode involving South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford. As Lloyd Fonvielle sees it, Sanford's "culture" failed him.

Sanford's case feels more complex, and interesting. He's clearly still in love with his Argentinian bombshell, if by love we mean the pussy-fever associated with a new and transgressive sexual relationship. Some failing in the right-wing Christian culture he inhabits seems to have left him unprepared to deal with the power of that fever -- you get a sense he was blindsided by it, and is still reeling from the blow.

Perhaps there is something about the rhetoric of his culture that minimizes the exaltation of sexual love, relating it too exclusively to law and duty, downplaying its delirious joy, leaving the members of that culture defenseless when the real thing emerges or re-emerges in their lives.

When it comes to adultery, I'm agin' it -- I don't see it as a "pecadillo" but as a profound, existentially crippling moral failing . . . yet at the same time less about the sex involved than about a violation of trust that can almost literally rip the heart out of a partner. No amount of personal pleasure or fulfillment can justify it, but you need to have a healthy appreciation of just how much personal pleasure and fulfillment it can deliver to know what you're up against when it presents itself.

I don't think Mark Sanford had a clue. In his e-mails to his mistress he sounds like a lovesick and somewhat bewildered teenager. How did he get to the age of 49 in that condition of emotional immaturity?

The particular "failing in the right wing Christian culture" here is a view of sin as merely the violation of a moral law ("God's law," to use one of Sanford's favorite terms) with little or no emphasis on the larger problem of depravity being the natural state of the fallen human condition. This is an essentially Pelagian view which reduces repentance to little more than saying, "I'm sorry and I'll try to do better next time." There is no need for divine grace, just a more earnest human effort to try harder to stay out of trouble. But trouble will always find you if you rely on your own strength, rather than on the grace of God alone, which awakens true repentance and a radical change of heart and mind.

Pop culture evangelicalism is hardly the monolithic monster so foolishly feared by the cultural left. Its minimalist expression of the faith will never transform even one individual, much less an entire culture.

Quote of the Week: Robert Munday Sums Up the Michael Jackson Media Overkill

This pretty much says it all.

I got on a plane on Thursday just as the news of Farah Fawcett's death was blaring over the airport television screens and got off that same plane greeted by the news that Michael Jackson had died. "How sad!" I thought. "A brave and compassionate woman's heroic fight against cancer (from which we all could learn something) has ended. But that news is going to be quickly eclipsed by the death of a self-destructive freak and child molester."

Anchoress: Jackson Was and Idol, Not an Icon

If you can pull yourself away from your television and the endless Michael Jackson coverage long enough, please read this pearl of wisdom from The Anchoress.

If we remember our Moses and our Golden Calf, we know that human beings have always created idols. Once upon a time, though, we at least understood that these godlings were wholly created from our own need to adore something and endow it with qualities of transcendence, and we were smart enough to be a little embarrassed about fainting for Sinatra, or screaming for John, Paul, George and Ringo. We understood that such cultural moments were mostly silliness, and considered that idol-making was a rare and harmless pastime.

It’s not so rare, anymore, or harmless. As our post-modern society becomes increasingly post-faith, we watch our instincts to raise up idols more frequently indulged. Is there a nation that does not have one (or more) “Idol-creating” type television show at the top of the ratings pile? We narcissists live vicarious dreams as we construct these godlings, carry them about on chairs of never-ending affirmation (when was the last time you expect Michael Jackson (or President Obama) heard the word “no”?) then we watch them crumble under the weight of material excess and broken illusions.

And we resurrect them when they die, and place them in our tin-ceilinged firmaments. And we forget that they were ever idols. We call them Icons.

Let me supply a quick primer – for the press and the general public – about the difference between an idol and an Icon.

An Icon looks out from an Intrinsic light and points to its Source; there are no shadows in which to hide.

An idol looks out from man-created light, and points to no one but himself; then walks into the shadows.

An Icon looks you straight in the eyes and dares you to pursue truth.

An idol wears shades and has his spokesperson tell you what you want to hear.

An Icon teaches you how to focus, how to quiet down, focus, collect oneself and hear the small, still voice.

An idol throws noise, images and issues at you, non-stop, scatters your thinking and deafens you to any voice but his.

An Icon whispers wisdom.

An idol shouts sound-bites and mindless trendspeak.

An Icon inspires you to chant to the Most High.

An idol inspires you to chant to him.

David Goldman on Michael Jackson, the "Anti-Priest"

With three "icons" of the entertainment industry--Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson--all dying in the same week, I find it interesting that only the demise of the latter is deemed worthy of wall to wall, 24/7 coverage on all the cable channels (and even a few network stations). But, then again, there were no spontaneous outpourings of public mourning in the streets for McMahon and Fawcett, thus nothing for the news cameras to plaster across our screens. Still, the disproportionate amount of coverage for Jackson is an illustration of the depravity of our culture. David Goldman boldly swims against the tide to make this point without mincing any words.

Full disclosure: I never watched a Michael Jackson video all the way through until today, after reading in The New York Times that “in the Philippines, a dance tribute was planned for a prison in Cebu, where Byron Garcia, a security consultant, had 1,500 inmates join in a synchronized dance to the ‘Thriller” video.” Jackson always seemed to me unspeakably silly when he wasn’t genuinely creepy, but the mass outpouring of grief at his death made me curiously enough to view the cited item on YouTube.

All music in some way is sacramental and all public performance has some religious character, but Jackson cultivated his image as a lay practitioner of pop spirituality more than any performer in his market segment, through the soppy universalism of “We are the World” as well as through his identification with the Jehovah’s Witnesses and, according to recent rumor, with Islam. The feel-good guru Deepak Chopra claims that Jackson was writing a song about the environment and wanted Chopra’s help with lyrics.

Just what sort of priest was Jackson, and what was his congregation? In the Judeo-Christian world, music enhances individuality within the congregation. That is clearest in the singing of four-part hymns, something that Protestant congregations learned as a matter of routine (the standard teachers’ manual used in Saxony in Bach’s childhood had sections on reading, arithmetic, and four-part singing). The harmonious combination of different voices recreates the unity-in-individuality of a Judeo-Christian congregation.

There is very little harmony in Jackson’s songs; they depend on a few simple, phrases and a great deal of rhythmic repetition. Rather than find himself in the congregation, the individual loses himself in the crowd. The audience of a rock concert is an anti-congregation, in that the intent of the exercise is to destroy individuality, and its lead singer is an anti-priest. If the music that accompanied the Christian liturgy from the dawn of Western counterpoint emulates creation—out of the fundamental tone comes a multiplicity of tones that act harmoniously in time—the repetitive, static and sterile drone of Jackson’s music is a species of anti-creation.

If creation is life, anti-creation is anti-life. It does not surprise me that the personal lives of our anti-priests consist of flight from life, into drugs (which seem to have killed Jackson), or psychosis (e.g., pedophilia and dysmorphia). The anti-priest of an anti-congregation has encountered anti-life.

Goldberg: Perspective on the Media Sanctification of Michael Jackson

Jonah Goldberg writes what I've been thinking all day long.

Generally speaking, I’m a believer in the rule that we should not speak ill of the dead. Or at least we should wait a decent interval before doing so (if we never spoke ill of the dead, history would be meaningless). But, I must say I find the media’s instinctive rush to sanctify Michael Jackson disgusting.

Look, I understand that Michael Jackson was an “icon.” I understand that some people loved his work and that many people who never met him believed they loved the man too.

But I didn't, and I’m hardly alone. If Michael Jackson were just another famous person, I’d probably stay silent and let the pro forma celebration of his memory roll by without comment. (For instance, I have no problem whatsoever with the media taking a moment to pay respects to Farah Fawcett).

Sure, I liked the Jackson Five. I liked “Thriller,” too, when I was a teenager. Michael Jackson was an “icon” for me too.

But let’s pause for a moment on that word “icon.” It seemed the consensus adjective for the news networks. NBC ran a special on two “American Icons” — Fawcett and Jackson. Every cable network (including Fox, for the record) used the word “icon” to describe him as if this was some sort of safe harbor, a word everyone could agree on. “Love him or hate him,” the implied logic went, “he was an ‘icon.’”

Yes, well, maybe so. But that doesn’t let you off the hook. Even though the term sounds neutral, it isn’t. An icon, technically speaking, is a religious symbol deserving of reverence and adoration. The networks may not have intended to use the word that way, but they certainly showed an unseemly amount of reverence and adoration for the man.

I think part of it is the narcissism of our celebrity culture. Here was a guy so many of “us” read about in People magazine for so long. His passing, therefore, isn’t a loss in the sorrowful sense of the word, but in the selfish one. It’s a loss of an interesting subject, a creature to gossip about and to fill a few minutes on E! or Entertainment Tonight.

Everyone likes to invoke Lord Acton’s axiom that “power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” But nearly everyone forgets that he coined this phrase not to indict powerful men, but to instruct the historians who write about them. Historians tend to forgive the powerful their transgressions. Likewise, journalists (for want of a better word) tend to forgive the famous.

Calling Michael Jackson an icon doesn’t let him off the hook for anything. But to listen to the news anchors you’d think it absolves him of everything.

I say: Who cares who his famous friends were? Who cares what a “fascinating” person he was? If you want to talk about his death as an end of an era, have at it. But that’s not what the Barbara Walters set is doing.

I know that Michael Jackson wasn’t convicted of the despicable crimes he was accused of. And that’s why he never went to jail. Three cheers for the majesty of the American legal system. But in my own personal view, he wasn’t exonerated either. Nor was he absolved of his crimes because he could sing, moonwalk, or sell 10 million records. (Though many of us suspect the money and fame he made from those things is precisely what kept him out of jail).

And, while I merely think he was a pedophile, I know he was not someone responsible parents should applaud, healthy children emulate, nor society celebrate.

And while we’re at it, his relatively early death wasn’t “tragic.” He was one of the richest people in the world. He spent his money on perpetual childhood and he was perpetually with children not his own.

Meanwhile, in the last ten days, we’ve seen or heard of remarkable people who’ve given their lives for freedom in Iran. We’ve heard of innocents killed because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the last decade, America has lost thousands of heroes in noble causes and thousands of innocent bystanders who were denied the simple joys of life through no fault of their own. Those deaths are tragic, and we're hard pressed to think of more than a handful of names to put with the long line of the dead.

If anything, Michael Jackson’s life, not his death, was tragic.

Every year at the Oscars they show a montage of people who died over the previous year. Invariably, the audience only applauds for the really famous people. This has always offended me. Not necessarily because the famous people don’t deserve praise but because it’s so clear that the audience is clapping for the fame. Michael Jackson had many accomplishments. But the press is sanctifying him because he was famous, deservedly so to be sure, but not because he was good. So much of the coverage seems to miss this fundamental point, as if being famous made him good.

I feel sympathy for Jackson’s family and friends who understandably mourn him. But I can't bring myself to mourn him any more than I mourn the random dead I read about in the paper everyday. Indeed, I confess to mourning him less.

Every channel says this is a sad day for America. I agree. But not for the same reasons.