A survey released in late 2000—and supported by more recent polls—reported that 86 percent of respondents believed the Bible is relevant in today’s world. A slightly smaller majority, 80 percent, said that the Bible could address most of today’s problems, although the same percentage felt that the language of the Bible could be confusing. All of these findings are mirrored in The Simpsons. Like Ned Flanders, who owns multiple translations, over half the adults surveyed by Zondervan Publishing said they trusted the Bible to get facts correct more than a history book or the local newspaper.1 Among committed evangelical Protestants like Flanders, this belief is even stronger. An August 2006 study conducted by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life found that “fully sixty-two percent of white evangelicals say the Bible is the actual word of God, to be taken literally.” The same survey found that 60 percent of the same group believes that the Bible should have more influence on U.S. laws than the will of the American people.
As a child on a Boy Scout trip, Simpsons’ creator Matt Groening stole a Gideon Bible from a motel and underlined the “dirty” parts, he told an interviewer for My Generation magazine in 2001. “Plus, there’s lots of stuff that’s just weird. For instance, there’s a parable about Jesus driving demons into a herd of pigs, and the pigs jump off a cliff. I wanted to know what the pigs did to deserve that.”
Characters in Groening’s series bring their own widely divergent views of faith and religion to their readings of the Bible, and do not hesitate to use it for their own purposes. The “Rainbow Man,” a zealot in a rainbow-colored wig who popped up at various televised sporting events during the 1990s carrying a sign reading “John 3:16,” appears in various crowd scenes on the show. Trying to look innocent after doing mischief, Bart pretends to read the Bible—upside down. Homer is saved from serious injury in a car wreck by a Bible in his crotch, and in another episode the Scripture is used to smuggle alcohol to him in a rehab program. “No wonder they call it the Good Book,” Homer says. The show’s writers freely mix accurately quoted passages with those they make up, including plausible-sounding gibberish. “And so when Eliphaz came down from Mount Hebron bearing figs, he offered them to Mohem, who you will remember is the father of Sheckhom,” Reverend Lovejoy reads, “and to Hazare on the occasion of their matrimony.” In The Simpsons Guide to Springfield, the minister quotes from “somewhere in the Bible,” possibly “First Thessaleezians,” that “blessed is a man who perseveres until trial.”2
At Sunday services, Lovejoy has a predilection for misinterpretation and choosing inappropriate selections, especially blood-thirsty passages that he claims are from the Old Testament (“With flaming swords the Aramites did pierce the eyes of their fellow men, and did feast on what flowed forth”) and meaningless recitations of genealogy. He advises Seymour Skinner, the elementary school principal who has come to him for advice, to read the Bible, but when the preacher is asked what part to consult for guidance, he answers, “It’s all pretty good.”
However, the advice Lovejoy gives Ned—who is concerned that he has offended his neighbor Homer—from Proverbs 15:1 proves appropriate and effective: “A gentle answer turns away wrath.” On a deeper level, though, the minister has an exceptionally dark view of the Bible’s essence, favoring dire, Old Testament judgment to the love, charity, and forgiveness of the New Testament. “Have you read this thing lately?” he asks Marge, holding the Bible. “Everything’s a sin. Technically, you can’t go to the bathroom.”
Lovejoy often relies on biblical citation to support his arguments. When Homer decides to stop going to church, he quotes Matthew 7:26 about the foolish man who built his house on sand. However, the minister can be a little shifty if someone quotes a verse that undermines his own views. After condemning Bart (pre-maturely and unjustly, as it turns out) for stealing from the collection plate, the minister is brought up short when Lisa repeats one of her favorites, Matthew 7:1: “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” The verse might be in the Bible, Lovejoy acknowledges, but if so it is “somewhere towards the back,” implying that is has less divine authority. On another occasion, Lisa challenges Springfield’s annual “Whacking Day,” when residents beat snakes to death. Lovejoy tells her the festival has biblical roots, pretending to read: “And the Lord said, Whack ye all the serpents which crawl on their bellies and thy town will be a beacon unto others,” he says. “So you see, Lisa, even God himself endorses whacking.” When the girl asks to see where in the Bible it says that, the preacher refuses to show her.
Homer is extremely hazy on many of the particulars of the Bible: He thinks Goliath defeated David and that the story of Hercules and the lion is from scripture. His inattention, leading to misunderstanding, is monumental: He believes God “teased” Moses in the desert, until Marge explains that God actually “tested” the leader. Pressed for a Bible verse to avert a spider’s curse, Homer draws a blank, getting no further than “Thou shalt not.. . .” Like Lovejoy, he spouts garbled scripture. As an involuntary missionary in the South Pacific, he introduces Judeo-Christian faith to the natives by reading this selection from the book of Psalms: “God will shatter the heads of His enemies. The hairy crown of those who walk in their guilty ways that you may bathe your feet in their blood.” The incomprehensible passage, he says solemnly to the bewildered congregation as he closes the Bible, is “as true today as it was when it was written.” Also like Lovejoy, Homer uses the Bible when and how it suits him, justifying gambling on sports to Lisa by telling her that it is permitted in the Bible—“somewhere in the back.” When Otto, the stoned school bus driver, becomes homeless, he is invited by Bart to move into the garage, to his father’s chagrin. “I know we didn’t ask for this, Homer,” says Marge, “but doesn’t the Bible say, ‘Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do unto me’?” Yes, Homer replies, “but doesn’t the Bible also say, ‘Thou shalt not take moochers into thy hut?’” Marge’s verse is from Matthew 25:40; Homer’s is from his imagination.
To Bart, Homer cites equally spurious biblical authority for afflicting former president George H. W. Bush, who has moved to Springfield, with a plague of locusts. “It’s all in the Bible, son. It’s the Prankster’s Bible.” Introducing a segment of a Halloween fantasy episode, he claims to be swearing on a Bible—until Marge points out that it is actually a book of carpet samples. Homer tells Lisa, who wants to play ice hockey on a boys’ team, that she is going against the Word: “If the Bible has taught us nothing else— and it hasn’t—it’s that girls should stick to girls’ sports, such as hot oil wrestling, foxy boxing. . . .” With Bart, he uses the Good Book as a prop in an attempt to convince Flanders that his wife ordered a gold-embossed Bible before her death, a disgraceful but venerable American con. But Homer recognizes the importance of scripture when it counts. The last thing he does when he thinks he is going to die from eating a poisoned blowfish is to turn to the Bible—in this case a recorded version read by Larry King.
The most detailed representation of the Bible in The Simpsons came in the spring of 1999 in an episode titled “Simpson Bible Stories.” It is a sweltering Easter Sunday morning, and the Simpsons have gathered at the First Church of Springfield. In the pulpit, Reverend Lovejoy makes no reference to Jesus, crucifixion, or resurrection. (The school chalkboard segment at the start of this episode has Bart writing, “I cannot absolve sins,” one of the few clear references to Christianity’s most important holiday.) Instead, the minister announces that on this day his congregation is in need of “a hefty dose of the Good Book.”
When Ned Flanders calls out from the pew that the noise of the fans is making it difficult to hear, the minister’s solution is to switch them off, plunging the congregation into dreamy somnolence. Lovejoy begins his sermon with the book of Genesis, and as he does, the Simpsons nod off and begin to dream, each in turn. In their biblical dreams, family members and their friends assume roles in much the same way as characters do in the movie version of The Wizard of Oz. Theologically, the Simpsons’ visions are to scripture what “Fractured Fairy Tales” on the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show were to the Brothers Grimm. Creator Matt Groening was especially proud of the episode, calling it “our Prince of Egypt,” although it is anything but DreamWorks’ elegant, reverent retelling of Moses and the exodus. Periods and characters from different books of the Bible appear out of chronological order, and events are turned upside down for comic effect. Groening joked before “Simpson Bible Stories” aired that the reason it was written was that executive producer Mike Scully told him the show hadn’t been getting enough angry letters.
Genesis. Marge dreams first, of the Garden of Eden. She is Eve, Homer is Adam, and, naturally, Ned Flanders provides God’s deep, booming voice, speaking from a cloud. Everything is idyllic: There is no pain or want, the lion lies down with the lamb, and a vivid rainbow hangs in the sky. Even pork, ripped from a willing pig, is kosher. It is “almost like paradise,” Marge tells Homer. In addition to his voice, God makes his presence known with a strong right arm, wearing Flanders’s signature sweater, and a hand with four fingers. Homer and Marge, wearing fig leaves, fall to their knees whenever they hear the voice from heaven. “You’re too kind and wise and righteous,” Homer says. Warned that all things are permitted to eat, except for the sparkling tree of knowledge, Homer naturally tries to work the angle to his advantage. He says that such temptation would be easier to resist if he could have a few extra wives.
The couple is then importuned by the serpent, tempting them to sample “God’s private stash.” In this version, however, it is Homer’s Adam—not Marge’s Eve—who is the first to succumb to temptation. “They said it was forbidden,” Marge says. “Please stop eating that. God’s going to be furious.” Homer, his eyes newly opened by knowledge, replies that she is “pretty uptight for a naked chick.” She reflects that “it is a sin to waste food” and joins him.
Thunder follows, as Marge predicted, and God wants to know if anyone has tasted the forbidden fruit. Homer implicates Marge, who admits that she has. She is expelled from the garden, pleading in vain for Homer to say something in her defense. The world outside Eden is a terrible place, she soon learns, now wearing a dress. Asked by Homer, who is still in the garden, what she is doing, she says, “Toiling—what does it look like?”
Guilt-stricken by his betrayal, Homer decides to sneak Marge back in, believing that “God can’t be everywhere at once, right?” He enlists a unicorn to dig a tunnel and, just as Marge rejoins him, they are discovered. God appears again, and again the couple fall to their knees. Wrong again. “This is how you repay me?” the Lord asks, even more angry this time, seeing the last unicorn expire. Homer asks that God not do anything rash and makes a feeble attempt at proto-Christian theology in their defense. He asks, “God is love, right?” but he is in the wrong testament. The couple is expelled, this time for good, to a world of pain and want and misery. But it is also a world of hope and optimism. “I’m sure God will let us return soon,” says Marge, with no grasp of the concept of original sin and its durability. “How long can he hold a grudge?”
Exodus. Lisa dreams of the Egyptian captivity, where she is the woman behind Moses, who appears in the person of Bart’s friend Milhouse. The Israelite slaves are all children who, when not building the pyramids, jump rope while reciting the genealogy of the patriarchs. Bart, naturally, is a troublemaking slave who infuriates Pharaoh with irreverent graffiti. When Pharaoh, played by Principal Skinner, threatens to slay all the firstborn—again—until he finds out who is responsible, Bart is denounced by the burning bush. Making a rare appearance without her signature pearls, Lisa urges Milhouse to tell Pharaoh to let their people go. Pharaoh refuses and is afflicted with a series of plagues. But the frogs the children dump on the Egyptian leader are purchased at the market and do not come from God. Pharaoh finds the amphibians tasty, taking the plague as a message from the sun-god above: “Ra has rewarded my cruelty to the slaves.” Lisa tries to explain the subtleties of the divine plan to dim-witted Pharaoh: “It’s a plague, you moron!”
Milhouse finally rouses the slaves, telling them their time has come, and urges them to follow him to freedom. At last they are permitted to leave but are then pursued by Egyptian chariots to the shore of the Red Sea. Here, Moses wavers in his faith. “Screw this,” he proclaims, falling to his knees and bowing to the sun. “I’m converting. Save us, O mighty Ra!” Lisa bucks him up and he parts the sea, enabling the Israelites to cross to safety. “It’s a miracle!” he says, clearly astonished, and drawing the wrong conclusion. “I’m a genius!” he cries. On the other side, Moses asks Lisa what’s ahead—a land of milk and honey? After consulting a Torah scroll, she tells him it’s forty years of wandering in the desert.
Kings. Lovejoy announces that the next reading will be from the book of Kings, about King Solomon, whose wisdom was “like a drill, boring into the rock of injustice.” On the word “boring,” Homer dreams that he is King Solomon, judging disputes among the people in a People’s Court setting. His coworkers from the nuclear power plant, Lenny and Carl, appear as ancient Israelites who dispute the ownership of a pie. The incident is a variation of 1 Kings 3, in which two women claim they are the mother of the same baby. King Solomon orders the infant cut in two and divided between the two claimants. The true mother is revealed when she pleads not to slay the child, and instead to turn it over to the other woman. This time, Homer orders the pie in dispute to be divided and the two disputing claimants slain. Then he eats both halves of the pie.
Samuel. Bart imagines himself as King David, living in Jerusalem in 970 BC (although the walled city’s appearance seems more like the first century AD). It is an action movie sequel to 1 Samuel 17, when as a young man the future king kills Goliath, the Philistines’ gigantic champion, with a sling. Years later, King Bart has become an arrogant, sybaritic monarch. He is challenged by Goliath’s son, who is played by the bully Nelson Muntz. At first, Bart confuses the giant with Samson, cutting his hair to no effect. “I hope this doesn’t get into the Bible,” he says. This time around the giant bests Israel’s greatest king, knocking him into the next country and seizing the crown. A shepherd recognizes the deposed warrior king and tells him, “I love you ’cause you kill people.”
“Goliath II is gonna pay,” Bart vows, “and this time, it’s biblical.” Improbably, the insurgent monarch learns that Goliath II is responsible for the deaths of Jonah and Methuselah, enraging him. Bart climbs the tower of Babel, where Nelson is hiding, and brings the giant down, only to learn that during his exile the Philistine had become a wise king beloved by his Israelite subjects, was known as “Goliath the Consensus Builder,” and had constructed roads, hospitals, and libraries. Bart is jailed.
Revelation. The family awakes in church after the service, only to find themselves alone in the pews. It’s not the end of the world, Homer says, as they walk out the door. But it is. They appear to have walked into the end of the world. The heavens are raining brimstone and the world is ablaze. The four horsemen of the Apocalypse ride across the fiery sky. Marge realizes what is happening as pure Christian spirits, such as those of their neighbors the Flanderses, kneeling together in prayer, are ascending to the sky. The Simpsons remain firmly earthbound and Marge wonders why they aren’t rising to heaven. “Oh right, the sins,” she says. Lisa recognizes that the rapture is taking place, and regrets that she has never known true, earthly love. She begins to rise, only to be yanked back by Homer. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” he asks. This family started together and it will finish together.
The ground near them opens with a ramp to a fiery pit, and the Simpsons descend. At first, Homer is unabashed, saying that he smells barbecue. Then he learns the horrible truth about hell: “They’re out of hot dogs, the cole slaw has pineapple, and it’s German potato salad!” The closing credits role as the heavy metal rock group AC/DC sings “Highway to Hell.”
In one Christmas episode sequence, the nativity story is retold by Simpsons characters in a similar fantasy sequence, but in this case the script sticks close to scripture. Following the success of Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, The Simpsons offered another cinematic take on the Good Book. Ned is watching television with his children when a commercial comes on for an erectile dysfunction treatment for old men. Like many parents in a similar situation, he is upset, declaring there is nothing but filth on TV. But unlike most, Ned decides to take direct action, creating a religious alternative. Using his video camera and a backyard set, he films The Passion of Cain and Abel, starring Rod and Todd, with himself in the supporting role of Adam. The film is screened in the church basement to a packed house. In one scene, Ned tells the boys that God “is vacuuming heaven for when dead people show up.” As the gory, drawn-out sequence of fratricide appears on the screen, it is intercut with nightmarish newspaper headlines such as “Massachusetts Okays Gay Marriage” and “Stem Cells Cure Alzheimer’s.” Most of the crowd loves the movie, but Marge is uncomfortable, because of the violence and the negativity. Mr. Burns, the owner of the nuclear power plant, notes the reaction of the viewers and tells his aide, Smithers, that there is money to be made in Bible-based movies—as well as an opportunity to launder money.
Burns finances a big-screen sequel, based on the exodus and shot with a large cast and sets, but still in the Flanders backyard. This movie, even more violent and distorted than the first, premieres in a Springfield theater. Again, most in the audience love it, except for Marge, who protests that “there’s more to the Bible than blood and gore.” Ned, the auteur, is stung. “I guess you’d rather see a film about a liberal European wizard school or the latest sexcapade of Miss Ashley Judd,” he says. Marge doesn’t back down, telling him she doesn’t like his movie and that she intends to urge a boycott. With that, Burns abandons his backing.
Because of his own success teaching professional athletes how to showboat, Homer has been asked to produce the halftime show at the Super Bowl. Bereft of an idea the night before, he wanders into church at 3 a.m., where he finds Ned, praying alone about his movie. “I’m just like Michael Moore,” he tells Homer, “except I’m skinny, my jeans are washed, and God loves me. I wish I could find a way to spread my message.” To Homer, this appears to be a miraculous opportunity. “You’ve got a message—and I’ve got a medium,” he tells his neighbor. “Maybe God brought us together for a reason.” Or maybe not. The coproduction, in which the football stadium is flooded to recreate the story of Noah, is a failure, producing a chorus of boos and bad news reports. Local TV anchorman Kent Brockman intones that fans were “outraged by the Super Bowl halftime show’s blatant display of religion and decency,” citing a local family of secular humanists interviewed on the street.
Much of the reporting I have done about the Bible has involved the issue of inerrancy—the literal, word-for-word truth of scripture. In a classic example of what political scientists call a “wedge issue,” conservative Southern Baptists were able to use this theological debate more than two decades ago to help leverage control of the nation’s largest Protestant denomination. My sense is that this debate over the biblical truth of the Good Book is largely beside the point to most believing Christians and Jews, who tend to agree that it is divinely inspired and, at the least, a source of practical wisdom and moral instruction. They are more concerned with what is in the book than the manner in which it was transmitted to the world. Like the characters on The Simpsons, they return to the Bible for support and sustenance, justification and inspiration. For, as Homer says, it is “as true today as when it was written.”