Tammy Faye and Jim's kid is all right

Hark, a fine TV program with a religious theme. Starting tonight, on the Sundance Channel: a six-part, worth-watching documentary about a punk-rock minister who preaches in a bar. (An auto-body shop houses his church office.)

You might recall his parents: Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, the TV evangelists from the 1980s who built, then forfeited, the "Praise the Lord" empire. Jim Bakker was forced to resign the ministry in 1987, disgraced by a sex scandal. (Another name from the past: Jessica Hahn.) Fraud, tax evasion and racketeering then shamed him even more, sending him to jail and propelling the Bakkers into infamy. Their public image wasn't helped by the fact that Tammy Faye's eyes, glooped in so much makeup, looked like hairy spiders whenever she appeared on TV.

So we'd understand, given his parents' hypocrisy and the public lampooning it triggered, if son Jay grew up to have some serious issues.

But that's not the case.

No, instead, while evangelicals continue to make headlines for their (bad) behavior — Pastors' wives: Don't let yourselves go! — Jay Bakker restores our faith in "alternative" ministers. And if not entirely making us forget the sins of his father, the son at least restores some honor to the family name.

Tattooed and pierced, fond of dark clothing and cigarettes, the younger Bakker, 30, delivers sermons in an Atlanta nightclub called the Masquerade. When "One Punk Under God" begins tonight, Bakker counsels: "I do want to remind you, buy something up at the bar. Tip your waiters and waitresses. I've always wanted to say that in a church."

He's a likable guy, quietly charismatic and thoughtful, particularly when it comes to wife Amanda, a mental-health worker. "One Punk" is as much a look at one man's ministry as it is about how a young couple nurtures a marriage. Jay and Amanda have been married seven years, and one of the challenges they'll face in future episodes is what happens when their careers pull them in different directions.

Each episode of "One Punk" opens with guitar strumming and Jay summing up his life: "I grew up in one of the biggest churches in the country. When I found out my dad had an affair everything fell apart. I saw the hypocrisy of the church. I thought God hated me."

The opening graphics give us one interesting detail: Growing up, Jay did drugs and dropped out of high school. (Flash to picture of younger-looking Jay). But the documentary doesn't explore that chapter. Nor does it tell us how he came to terms with his faith. When exactly did he receive his calling? (Perhaps a more complete story can be found in his 2001 biography, "Son of a Preacher Man.") But it would have been nice to learn some of it here.

Rather, the "One Punk" filmmakers reckon meeting Jay is enough to hook viewers. And it does, because like it or not, some of us still harbor our own stereotypes of Christians, and Jay just doesn't fit into a box. Amongst the plethora of "reality TV" stars — the ones who want to be top model/chef/singer/adventurer/weight loser, etc. — there's something appealingly ordinary about Jay, who doesn't want to be the top anything. If anything, he eschews hierarchy as well as organizations who divide the world into "us" and "them."

To publicize his Revolution Church, Jay slaps stickers onto parking meters that read: "As Christians we're sorry for being self-righteous judgmental bastards."

Jay tries hard not to judge. But when he changes his mind about homosexuality, he decides to make Revolution a gay-affirming church, risking member as well as financial support.

Jay is proud of being a Bakker, he tells us, as he visits his mother, now Tammy Faye Messner (his parents divorced in 1992 and both remarried). Tammy Faye, who is battling fourth-stage cancer, looks gaunt, even more so underneath all the eye makeup she still wears. Her illness, Jay explains, prompts him to live a life without regrets.

So after a two-year estrangement, Jay reaches out to his father (back hosting a religious TV show on cable). You may care little about Jim Bakker's feelings, but now, because you've come to respect his son, you root that a reunion works out.

Florangela Davila: 206-464-2916 or fdavila@seattletimes.com