You confess, we watch
Lori Borgman | Monday, May 11, 2009
We are addicted to confession. We don’t care who
they are or what they did, we just enjoy a little dirt.
Last week, commercials showed a tearful Elizabeth
Edwards on a talk show confessing details of the most intimate and
painful relationship in her life.
Did we really need to see that?
I felt like a peeping Tom invading her privacy
just looking at the 30-second teasers.
Bristol Palin is talking about pre-marital sex
again! Will they replay it?
Paula Abdul confesses to Ladies Home Journal that
she had a 12-year addiction to painkillers! Will she be on Larry
King?
We could have a television show featuring confessions
from people who steal bath mats from hotel rooms and it would draw
an audience.
We have come to regard the televised confession
as one-part entertainment and two-parts therapy. It is like Step
Five in the Six Steps to Emotional Recovery.
The Bible says confess your sins one to another
-- but did it mean to do it on “Oprah”?
I don’t totally blame Oprah. Or Dr. Phil. Or any
of them.
The blame is largely ours. We have created market
and demand by parking ourselves in front of the tube waiting for
the next videotape of a woman screaming at her children or a man
belittling his wife.
We rationalize these humiliating public confessions
by telling ourselves they are educational, that maybe this will
prevent just parent from being a jerk, one spouse from cheating,
one kid from snorting Vodka, downing a cocktail of prescription
drugs, having sex with a teacher, or posting nude photos on MySpace.
The things we do for the love of education.
Parts of the church are riding this wave of confession
as well. In recent years, Christians have erected confessional booths
at street fairs and college festivals, not to invite strangers in
to confess their sins, but to confess to strangers the sins of the
church, to apologize and ask forgiveness on behalf of the church.
How do you confess a sin you didn’t commit and
ask forgiveness from a person you don’t know?
The cultural phenomena of the televised confession
may be a reflection of our friendlessness. Confessing our wrongs
is something we do to the one we wronged – something we reveal to
a close confidant, a trusted friend, or a spiritual advisor. Lacking
deep friendships and day-to-day relationships where we can bounce
ideas, ask for feedback and listen to correction, we take it to
the masses, the talk show host and the studio audience.
Several years ago, our family had a man from Haiti
staying with us. He turned on the television one afternoon and announced
he wanted to watch Jerry Springer. I explained that the show was
tasteless, vulgar and a crude exploitation of rather unintelligent
people.
He turned to me and said, “But it’s America. I
need to see America.”
I was hoping he was wrong; but he may have been
right.
