Why did I spend three and a half days of my life watching all 87 episodes of a soapy spy serial? For Jesus, of course. Also because it's a provocative and relevant series.
“I’ve been telling everyone who’ll listen how great Downton Abbey is,” I said in a sermon that was technically about evangelism. I was illustrating St. Augustine’s point that when people love, say, a great actor they tell others about him—and so how much more should we tell others about the gospel. A week later I learned how (un)successful that point had been. “I’ve watched every episode,” a parishioner said. “Now what was it you were trying to say about that show?”
Friday Night Lights, which ends tonight, portrays a small town and the relationships within it. The show is steadfastly conventional, commercially unsuccessful and the best thing on television.
Forensics television is more than gory titillation and casual senationalism. These programs scratch at religious itches: they try to see beyond death and long for ultimate justice.