“Daddy, What’s a Viagra?”

On May 9, 1961, Norman Minnow, then chairman of the Federal Communications Commission, addressed the National Association of Broadcasters (NAB) in what is hailed as one of the top 100 speeches of the 20^th century. “When television is good . . . nothing is better,” Minnow said. “But when it is bad, nothing is worse.” He urged his audience to spend a day in front of their television sets just watching what they, themselves, were producing. Then, he said this: “Keep your eyes glued to that set until the station signs off. I can assure you that what you will observe is a vast wasteland.”

When Mr. Minnow told the NAB that they needed to and could do better, there were three broadcast channels in America and 186 million people watching 56 million television sets. Now, the channels are like the children of Abraham – countless as the stars in the sky. And there are 300 million Americans watching 200 million TVs. It’s still a wasteland, only vaster.

Even if the programming was of the highest moral quality (please), the commercials alone are in such poor taste that I shudder to think what parents of young children must be up against. You and your kids are watching a ball game on ESPN. In between innings, you go to the frig to grab a coke. While you’re gone, a sultry femme fatale slinks across the screen casually discussing chemical solutions to romance problems. Five seconds later, your daughter walks into the kitchen and asks, “Daddy, what’s a Viagra?”

(Which reminds me of the old saw: One kid says to another, “I found a condom on the veranda.” The other kid asks, “What’s a veranda?”)

A family of cute cartoon bears celebrates the merits of a certain toilet paper by exclaiming, “You can’t pass inspection with pieces left behind.” PIECES LEFT BEHIND?! Seriously? We’re going there? I’ve never selected it, but there’s a channel on my cable guide that asks, “Do You Poop Enough?” A whole channel. And don’t even get me started on the walking, talking bladder commercials.

Look, I appreciate excremental wisecracks as much as the next guy. In selective contexts with certain company, scatological humor can be an effective means by which males (and, though I would not know, perhaps females, too) bond. A part of growing up for both boys and girls is learning what topics may be appropriately taken up in which contexts. And therein lies the problem with television – the context is not selective and the company is uncertain. If it’s okay to run a commercial about constipation during prime time, why is it not okay to bring it up at Sunday school?

Which is why the assignment to guard the hearts of children is tougher for parents today than it was when my wife and I had littles running around the house. The thing we worried most about was that our kids might see something that would scare them. Now, parents have to face the possibility that what their kids see can skew their values.

Marketers are and always have been in the business of selling. Hallmark executives will tell you that their commercial featuring a same-sex couple is their way of promoting tolerance, at least as the culture defines tolerance. There’s probably some truth in that. But it’s also, and primarily, their way of leveraging a cultural value for profit. They’ve done their homework – focus groups, qualitative and quantitative research, surveys – and they have concluded that promoting same-sex relationships, even if tentatively, is in their best financial interests.

So, does television influence the culture or merely indicate which direction we’re headed? Both. It’s pretty hard to deny that television – especially commercials – are intended to influence. The price of a Super Bowl ad this year was $ 166,667 . . . PER SECOND! (And the Falcons still lost.) You don’t spend that kind of money out of the goodness of your corporate heart. But TV ads are not just intended to affect our decisions; they reflect what the advertisers believe we value.

That’s where our work comes in. Nearly every commercial we see is asking a question – do you agree with the value that lies submerged just beneath the hilarious shenanigans or heartwarming gestures of this sixty second story? And make no mistake; the marketers are telling stories with their commercials. They’re called narratives. As Christians, we must be critical about the narratives we embrace. Paul’s counsel to the Philippians (4:8) seems particularly apt just here:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.