Seemingly inspired by the eponymous song originally released by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band in 1994 and further popularized thanks to country group Rascal Flatts in 2005, the faith-based narrative is the latest cash cow from the team that unleashed the vitriolic, Islamophobic and generally disturbing “God’s Not Dead” franchise. That's what the gospel does.Best described as an unbalanced sample platter of vapid conservative beliefs, Harold Cronk’s “God Bless the Broken Road” is not concerned with disputing any of the preconceived notions coastal dwellers may have about Middle America, but rather leans into them shamelessly for a Christian drama squarely aimed at women and veterans. Perhaps more than that, it's an arena where the most serious moral questions are fought out in the sight of God and in the context of faith.īroken? Yes, but mended, in the end.
This is, as a refrain last night indicated, a 'wonderful priest' – and with wonderful priests and pastors, there's still hope for the Church.Īnd in spite of all its faults, the Church itself is a place of healing. He's deeply flawed: his own complicity in a terrible tragedy has to be dragged from him and nearly sabotages a crucial pastoral relationship. He knows life's complicated, and he walks with people anyway. His sermon last night about the deadly lure of slot machines is one most ministers would be proud to have preached. He's passionate about people and passionate about justice. He's a man of prayer, and his instinct is always to seek God and say the words that bring God near, even over the body of his own mother. He lives in a cheerless house, he has no one to come home to, but that's OK. He has a family and friends, but he's given his life to serving God. It shows a priest who's totally dedicated to his people. It's not flawless, but it's great drama – and it's the kind of thing Christians should rejoice in. Kerrigan was abused as a boy, and all his sins assail him as he's celebrating mass. A major plotline is the shooting of a mentally ill boy by police, with the associated crises of conscience and closing of ranks by all involved. No spoilers, in case you're going to see it on iPlayer. She comes to Father Michael and tells him she's going to commit suicide. There's another who's stolen from her employer to feed her gambling habit. There's a woman whose mother dies and who keeps her body to claim her pension. People are poor, oppressed by the system and by their own failings (it was written by Jimmy McGovern, whose territory this is). If you've missed the story, it's about a troubled priest, Father Michael Kerrigan (Sean Bean), in a tough Northern city. Sean Bean as Father Michael Kerrigan in 'Broken'. After tears, heartbreak and tension, last night's concluding episode provided a triumphant resolution that amounted, in a believer's eyes, to a powerful gospel presentation. So thank God for Broken, the best portrayal of religion on screen for years. Poldark offers a stupid caricature of faith. Because that's what Christians are like, isn't it? Everything's black and white, and they just don't like ordinary people. Take Poldark, the reboot of the 1970s smash hit, currently running in the appropriate Sunday night slot: the Methodists are religious nutters, with their leader Sam Carne – in the books, a virile, thoroughly decent chap at home with saints and sinners – shaking hands with his congregation with a greasy cringe, while being horribly disapproving about innocent pastimes like singing.
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