When I tell my friends in show business that I am now at Princeton Theological Seminary, getting a master’s degree in divinity and on my way, I hope, to ordination in the Episcopal Church, their response is usually to nod thoughtfully and say something along the lines of “Can’t wait to read the sitcom script you write about it.”
“But I’m not doing this to get a pilot script out of it,” I always say. And they usually smile indulgently as if to say, “Come on, now, we all know this is a good career move.” And then I try again to explain that it’s not really a career move. It’s a matter of genuine faith and curiosity. I say I am trying to make a significant change in my life — yes, at my age — and I impress on my show business friends that my motives are entirely spiritual.
Well, OK, I admit I was intrigued to learn that ordained clergy can apply for a placard to place on their dashboard, which, in New York City anyway, allows for a certain leniency in parking law enforcement. But that’s not why I’m doing this. Still, it’s impossible to convince certain people that I’m here because I genuinely want to learn, to think, to serve.
“Faith-based content is really big right now,” a friend of mine said when I told him where I was and what I’m doing for the next three years. “But you probably already have a pitch ready to go, right?”
“Um, no,” I said.
“Seriously? You’re telling me that you’re not writing a screenplay about this? I don’t believe you.”
As hard as I tried to explain, there was no way I could convince him. It was the same with a studio executive I know. “Wow, fantastic,” she said when I told her my news. “And just so you know, we’re getting into that area a lot more,” she added. “But my question is: Are you working mostly in the comedy arena or the drama side?”
“I’m not on a side,” I said. “I’m getting a master’s in divinity because I’m genuinely called to it.”
“Of course, of course,” she said. “But I just want to know if whatever you write about it is, like, going to be funny? Because there’s a lot of room for the comedy take on the whole religion thing right now. Basically, our research suggests that shows like The Chosen and House of David are kind of running the table with the serious angle. Might be interesting to look at the lighter version?”
I shouldn’t be surprised. The entertainment industry is deeply confused right now. Some traditionally sure things — Disney movies, shoot-em-ups, the usual — aren’t doing so well at the box office. And the streaming services are cutting budgets and programming after learning the hard way that most households don’t want to spend upwards of $150 per month on TV shows they don’t even have time to watch.
Hollywood is in a process of introspection and retrenchment — a few bad quarters have that effect — so when I tell my friends and colleagues in the entertainment business what I’m doing, it’s not surprising that their first thought is, “Hey, is there an angle in this? Is this a new thing we can turn into product?”
Which is an odd question because, of course, it’s not a new thing at all. In fact, it’s one of the oldest things in the world. And during the foundational years of Hollywood, religion and the Bible were constant sources of inspiration. They didn’t use the term then, but the Bible, both parts, was a great place for the old movie studios to find “content.”
It makes sense: Jesus, Moses, David, Abraham — these are terrific franchise characters with great potential for brand advancement. Add into that various clan wars, cataclysms, healings, and revelations, and you have enough solid material for a rich and probably profitable Bible cinematic universe.
Again, not that this in any way is why I am here, at seminary, studying for a master’s and, I hope, a collar. But, you know, my friends have a point. As career moves go, it’s hard to beat.
Rob Long is a television writer and producer, including as a screenwriter and executive producer on Cheers, and the co-founder of Ricochet.com.
