Blurred Lines: The Basement and Evangelical History (Part II)

Charity R Carney

In Birmingham, Alabama, the current trend is not Auburn or Alabama jerseys. Instead, young people are donning“#FreePitt” shirts and plastering their vehicles with Basement stickers in a show of support for the celebrity youth pastor, Matt Pitt. Yesterday morning, Pitt, the founder and lead minister of the Basement (a 5,000-member youth group) had his probation revoked and was sentenced to a year in jail for impersonating a police officer. Last month I introduced the current controversy surrounding the Basement and since then several developments have plagued the Basement organization, which has rallied its members to defend their spiritual leader. Regardless of the support he is receiving, the scenario has certainly tested Matt Pitt’s personal slogan: “We are not perfect, just forgiven.” 

 

Since my last post, a local reporter released an interview taken with Pitt right before he jumped off a 45-foot cliff in an attempt to avoid arrest. The interview has caused quite a stir, but it also reveals Pitt’s own understanding of his place within American religious (and even civil rights) history, with a complicated racial component. Note, especially, the remarks on Creflo Dollar and Martin Luther King, Jr.:

I remarked on the odd connection with the Civil Rights Movement in my previous post: “The SCLC and Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., the Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth, and other Civil Rights leaders were persecuted and victimized by the white police force in [Birmingham]—a history that is well-known and well-documented.” I also indicated, of course, that Pitt’s situation bears very little resemblance to the trials and struggles of civil rights leaders. By connecting himself with Martin Luther King, Jr., and then tying in Creflo Dollar, Pitt has positioned his religious leadership with well-known (and radically different) African-American ministers. I find this association fascinating as it demonstrates both a strange historical consciousness and complete lack of historical awareness, all fostering a sense of self-importance. Megachurch culture (of which I argue the Basement is a part) certainly glorifies the personality at the center of the organization. Pitt’s remarks combined with his following illustrate the power of that personality—however misguided it may be.  They also indicate the positioning of southern ministry against police power in the region, a continued theme in Pitt's defense of his actions.

The other interesting component of the interview and the “#FreePitt” crusade, as well as the overall aesthetic of the Basement meetings and merch, is the role of television and reality TV in defining evangelical culture. Pitt’s openness with the reporter makes sense (probably not to his lawyer, but certainly to his fellow megachurch-goers). His own organization (Whosoever Ministries) has a “Reality TV” station and does skits like “Americas Next Top Christian” and “Basement Cribs” fashioned after popular television shows. Pitt is used to being on camera, and the interview seems to stem from his familiarity with cameras. The evangelist has appeared on Trinity Broadcasting Network and there are hundreds of video interviews, sermons, and skits of Pitt littering the internet. 

 

This emphasis on reality TV culture also coincides with actual reality programs about megachurch pastors. Oxygen is releasing a new “Preachers of L.A.” series this Fall that follows megachurch prosperity preachers in Los Angeles and Bravo’s “Thicker Than Water” reality show focuses on the Tankard family, prosperity gospel advocates and multimillionaires. Jewel Tankard has a ministry aimed at increasing women’s wealth and her husband, Ben, is a successful gospel jazz musician.

Appearances matter in the prosperity and megachurch culture, especially in a ministry focused on youth. Matt Pitt’s own appearance and the merchandise in the Basement store provide a glimpse at MTV culture repurposed for Christian youth. The Basement t-shirts mimic the fashion on the reality show Jersey Shore and are sold at all events and online so that members and fans can don the Basement logo and advertise for their "THE HOTTEST CLUB IN TOWN." Right now they are even selling the “#FreePitt” shirts to raise funds for the fallen leader and bring attention to his case.

When Willow Creek introduced the seeker-sensitive model in the 1970s, the Basement could not have been what it had in mind. The Basement is the ultimate example of seeker-driven services targeted at a very particular audience with an emphasis on the commercialization and commodification of religious practices. As a youth ministry run by a younger preacher, the Basement may signal the next step in the megachurch, seeker-sensitive movement. Combined with new reality TV programs and internet ministries (see Kate Bowler’s post), popular religion is adopting more secular tools to reach larger audiences—and it’s working. Perhaps a better signifier would be plastic religion (rather than seeker-sensitive) for what's going on at the Basement. In Chidester's Authentic Fakes, he describes plastic religion as a commodified and flexible, a way to think about popular culture that is "biodegradable" and "shape shifting." The Basement is unabashedly plastic while also claiming authenticity, which is a cunning way to reconcile the conflict inherent in its MTV/tent revival meetings. Drawing on the televangelist trends described by Bowler in Blessed, with emotional pleas that "ebb and flow" throughout the meeting, Pitt's ministry takes the appeal one step further and amps up the revival atmosphere with smoke, lights, loud music, hip videos, and a liturgical call and answer that sounds more like a club chant.

And it's not the end of the authentic, plastic revival at the Basement. Despite the recent scandal, the Basement is not closing its doors, but insists that it is “stronger than ever.” According to its official statement: “The Basement continues to stand firm on the Gospel message of the Bible. The Ministry is centered on a message; that is why it only grows stronger with allegations and persecution. This message has been passed down for over 2,000 years and not persecution, allegations, imprisonment, threats, or intimidation to be quiet could ever stop it. No one involved in The Basement is concerned about it ending or slowing down.” It appears that the large youth ministry is determined to stay alive.

Although I’ve tried to provide some (albeit limited) context for the current happenings in middle Alabama, it really is a unique situation in many ways. It centers on a youth group, the pastor is an admitted former drug-user, there are so many twists and turns that it is undeniably different than past evangelical experiences. However, the fact that Pitt himself draws on the history of other evangelicals—in a wide sampling—indicates that he views himself and his movement at part of the arc of American religious history. The Basement ultimately offers us a glimpse at how evangelicalism combines past with present and the potential for volatile results. Plastic, seeker, reality, authentic... whatever it is, it's a new direction in American religion and megachurch culture and deserves our attention.