TV needs ‘Black Jesus’ more than ever

I didn’t really understand what it meant to need Jesus until I saw the HBO television series “Game of Thrones.” The show is a medieval-themed orgy of violence and degradation, with a plot held together by sadism and gratuitous nudity. Rape, torture and murder get repeated from episode to episode like the tune on a depraved music box. The “Game of Thrones” world turns on the desires of whoever is strongest in any given situation. Characters fall into one of two groups: ruthless or victimized. Virtues such as empathy, generosity and forgiveness are invariably weaknesses to be exploited. By the time I reached the third incest plot, even this born-and-raised atheist was praying for a savior.

“Game of Thrones” is not alone. Though it offers one of the more egregious examples, many of America’s most acclaimed television dramas feature amoral protagonists struggling for power by any means. From “The Sopranos” to “Breaking Bad” to “Sons of Anarchy” to “Scandal,” episodes tend to center on acts of calculated violence. In these shows, family is the only thing worth caring about besides power, but loved ones spend most of their time being potential hostages or getting brutalized to incite revenge. In “Scandal,” for example, the president’s teenage son is mentioned on the show much more often now that he’s been murdered. “True Detective” offered a whole philosophy of nihilism, with mangled bodies to match. And let’s not get started on “American Horror Story” or “The Walking Dead.”

Adam Kotsko examines this phenomenon in his book “Why We Love Sociopaths,” in which he suggests that our fixation on such megalomaniacal protagonists is “an attempt to escape from the inescapably social nature of human experience.” In a world where a small class of people actually can do whatever they want, it’s thrilling to imagine sublime power at one’s fingertips, such as command over dragons or a spy network, even though the real-life analogues (out-of-control cops, shady politicians, banksters) aren’t very popular. Kotsko uses the example of cutting in line: We don’t like people who cut, but it’s nice to imagine being the kind of person who can’t be bothered and never has to back down. To spend an evening bingeing on one of these shows is to step away from moral constraints such as the sanctity of life and plunge into the war of all against all.

Into this godforsaken mediascape enters “Black Jesus,” a half-hour series on Adult Swim that just finished its first season. Created by Mike Clattenburg and Aaron McGruder (creator of the comic strip and animated series “The Boondocks”), “Black Jesus” stars Gerald “Slink” Johnson as the Son of God resurrected as a black guy in present-day Compton. He lives in a van and roams the streets of South Central Los Angeles with a motley group of underemployed apostles, running into one adventure after another, as TV characters are wont to do. The show could have been a one-line joke taken way too far, except the characters’ motivations, by being humane, feel fresh and different. Instead of fighting for an advantage, Jesus solves conflicts with forgiveness and generosity of spirit.

The first season centers on their attempts to build a community garden. Working with Jesus doesn’t make things easy. When a local gang extorts protection money from them or they get jacked trying to buy weed, Jesus hands over all their cash rather than risk violence. To follow Jesus isn’t to sign up for a righteous army destined for victory, as the warm-hearted parolee Fish (Andra Fuller) learns. Rather, they have little and give more. With God’s blessing, the apostles’ hard work and a cameo from rapper Coolio, the garden thrives — including some magic tomatoes that get you high — until the police and dastardly property manager Vic (Charlie Murphy of “Chappelle’s Show” fame) conspire to ruin the work and get Jesus committed. As always, Jesus de-escalates and convinces his followers to give up the garden he talked them into building. The season ends with everyone alive, in high spirits, taking Jesus’ bodega order from the psych ward.

Unlike so many our TV protagonists, Black Jesus doesn’t offer power or strength in this world. For him, causing harm is the worst defeat. McGruder has been highly critical of the Christian entertainment-industrial complex in the past, but his Jesus embodies the holy figure’s chillest qualities. He’s a leader without an army, a friend who always gets you to do the right thing — even if he smokes your weed and never has any money. When “Black Jesus” portrays pride as the easiest thing to sacrifice, it upends the television world we’ve grown used to.

I don’t know whether we need a moral revival in popular entertainment; such efforts tend to produce corny pap. However, it can’t be good for our collective psyche to subject ourselves so constantly to such empty, graphic brutality. Entertainment shouldn’t shy away from what’s gruesome in this world, but it also shouldn’t blind us to the radical possibility of kindness. In a homogenized media environment where cruelty always sells, we have a friend in “Black Jesus.”