Expecting authentic insight into the lives of pastors from the new reality show “Preachers of L.A.” would be like turning to “The Real Housewives of Orange County” for parenting advice.
As with most shows in the genre, there is very little “real” in either “reality” show. But there is a certain entertainment value to both – if stereotypes, catfights and prefabricated drama are your cup of tea.
“Preachers of L.A.,” which debuts Wednesday on the Oxygen Network, promises a “candid and revealing look” at six “world-renowned mega-pastors” from Southern California: the Rev. Jay Haizlip of The Sanctuary Church in Huntington Beach, the Rev. Wayne Chaney Jr. of Antioch Church in Long Beach, Bishop Ron Gibson of Life Church of God in Christ in Riverside, Bishop Clarence McClendon of Full Harvest International Church in Gardena, Bishop Noel Jones of City of Refuge Church in Gardena, and the gospel music artist Deitrick Haddon, who pastored a large church in Detroit before relocating to Southern California.
I’d heard of a few of them before I watched a screener of the series’ first episode. But none would have come to mind as an ecclesiastical “rock star,” as more than one of the “Preachers of L.A.” refers to himself.
While I am friendly with a number of high-profile pastors, including Orange County’s own Rick Warren and Rob Bell – who are indisputably among the most influential in the nation – last time I checked, neither of them drives a Bentley or is in the habit of giving altar calls while swathed in Ed Hardy and leather pants, with a Louis Vuitton man-bag slung across his chest.
If the debut episode is any indication, “Preachers of L.A.” follows the formula for “reality” success. This seems to involve McMansions, bling, hair extensions, luxury cars, pontificating, preening and epic delusions of grandeur. The only variation in the reality recipe is a pulpit in place of a recording studio or Jersey Shore vacation house.
Most of the “Preachers of L.A.” are poster children for the theological scourge that is the “prosperity gospel,” where gross displays of wealth are believed to be an indication of spiritual health, and “anointed” (i.e. financially successful) preachers come equipped with outsized egos and entourages to match.
This may be a function of how series creators chose to portray the men – the “preachers” are all men, by the way – and not an accurate reflection of their true characters. Nevertheless, they come across largely as such caricatures of snake-oil salesmen for God that, after watching the first episode, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh, cry or throw up.
And yet, in the midst of the clerical circus, there were glimmers of nuance I found intriguing.
Perhaps the biggest personality of the six preachers profiled belongs to Haddon, a musician, preacher and actor who moved to California after his 15-year marriage – and ministry – fell apart in Michigan. Haddon subsequently fathered a child with the fetching Dominique, who is a significant member of the choir he leads, the League of Xtraordinary Worshippers. (Yes, really.) The couple married in July.
The talented Haddon is a showman who obviously enjoys the limelight. He is a little too quick to forgive (or dismiss) his missteps as he strives to reclaim his ministry and reputation. But for all of his posturing and bloviating, he also is the one who voices misgivings about some of the theology behind his colleagues’ ministries that focuses on health and wealth.
Haddon isn’t the only “Preacher of L.A.” acquainted with controversy. In the early 2000s, McClendon filed for divorce from his wife of 16 years, Tammera, pulled his 10,000-member church out of its Foursquare Gospel denomination, and married Priscilla Delgado a week after his divorce was finalized. It was a major scandal in the Pentecostal Christian world.
Both Delgado and Dominique Haddon are featured on “Preachers of L.A.,” as part of the “women-behind-the-men” supporting cast. Only one of the preachers, Jones, is single, and his would-be love life (apparently women throw themselves at single preachers) is a prominent story line.
The debut episode flirted with the issue of sexual ethics and how sexuality is addressed (or not) inside the Pentecostal subculture, but didn’t get very far. That would be an issue worth pursuing if the series creators are interested in more than salacious sound bites.
The role of women in the lives and ministries of these preachers also is interesting subtext. Are they arm candy or co-conspirators? Helpmates and equal partners in ministry?
How the women fare as the “reality” stories unfold is the only thing that might get me to watch a second episode.
Some of the “preachers” have spectacular conversion stories, such as Gibson, who was a self-described gang-banger/drug-dealer/addict before Jesus turned his life around; or Haizlip, a former professional skateboarder who fell into drug abuse before finding salvation and who now, with his wife, Christy, ministers to troubled youth in skate parks and addicts in the crack houses he used to frequent.
It is dangerous business to try to judge the condition of someone else’s soul or to speculate on the sincerity of their faith. And I wouldn’t dare do that here.
I’m sure each of the “Preachers of L.A.” is a true believer. My question is whether the show portrays what they really believe.
The philosopher and communication theorist Marshall McLuhan, who was a man of faith, famously said “the medium is the message” – that how a message is delivered actually affects what the message says.
Before they sign on for Season Two, the cast of “Preachers of L.A.” might reconsider what Gospel message their version of “reality” portrays.
Contact the writer: cfalsani@ocregister.com or on Twitter @Godgrrl
