Two or three decades ago, most U.S. Protestant churches held worship services on Sunday night as well as on Sunday morning, and many held midweek evening services as well. This pattern probably was always more pronounced in the southern and midwestern "Bible Belt" and was strongest among the more evangelical denominations, where it still survives. But it was never confined to any geographic area or to evangelical churches. In fact, the first radio station to broadcast a worship service picked it up from an Episcopal church in Pittsburgh on a Sunday night.

    Today, few evening services survive in mainline denomination churches, and their frequency and attendance figures are declining among even the more fervent evangelical sects. Television is singled out as the principal culprit in the demise of the tradition, and although it would be impossible to prove this, there is no question that television has changed American life-styles profoundly. It also has radically changed religious broadcasting.

    Those who are old enough to remember when there was no television will remember that the content of pre-TV radio was a line-up of soap operas, mysteries, and comedies similar to that which fills TV today. Despite this similarity of programming, there are important differences between radio and TV.

    Perhaps most obviously, people did not look at radios. They listened while reading, sewing, working, or looking at each other

    Just as radio thus required less of its listeners, it imposed no great demands on performers either. Radio was theater of the mind, and listeners created marvelous mental scenes as performers stood around a microphone reading their lines. Similarly, radio religionists were not challenged by the medium to do more than speak into a microphone. The formats of different programs were similar, and the preacher with the best delivery and the most appealing message came out on top in the ratings.

    Then came television. No more could the sound-effects artist create a setting in the listeners' minds. No more could the actors merely stand in one place while reading scripts. All the techniques of the movies had to be employed in broadcasting. People could see what they had previously only imagined, and TV producers learned instantly that the "talking head" was the most boring form of television. The screen had to be filled with scenery, actors, motion, and other visually entertaining elements.

    Those who wanted to do religious television programs had to come to grips with the nature of the medium. The logic of television is simply that if you want people to watch a program, you must entertain them -- visually, aurally, totally. This logic was not lost on television religionists, not even the early ones. David L. Altheide and R. P. Snow tell in their book Media Logic of a St. Paul, Minnesota, church called Soul's Harbor that began telecasting its services in the early 1950s: "The minister wore a captain's uniform and preached from a pulpit decorated with nautical artifacts. While the respectable middle class paid little attention, Soul's Harbor became a success. Soon the established denominations were televising their services, but the difference was great. Soul's Harbor adapted to the format of television, whereas the established churches did not. In the established

    Today the evangelicals realize full well that they are in hot competition, not only with a lot of secular and a few mainline religious programs (for the formats of all three are strikingly similar), but with each other as well. And they realize that the sophistication and slickness of their productions -- in effect, their Hollywood quotient -- can determine their success or failure.

    Every format of secular television entertainment is being used in the electronic church today, with the possible exception of comedy. Offerings include musical variety shows, news, drama, soap opera, talk shows, and even game shows. Religious programs for children include cartoons, puppet shows, and Christian versions of "Captain Kangaroo."

    Chicago viewers, for example, may watch a game show called "Bible Baffle," which features flashing lights, an ebullient host, and excited contestants, just like "The Price Is Right." But on "Bible Baffle" the questions are about the Bible, and the prizes include religious books and vacation weekends at religiously oriented spas. The electronic church has learned that TV writes the rules for its use, and it is following those rules with alacrity.

    A few turns of the dial, or a few hours spent watching a religious channel, can bring the viewer religious versions of just about everything in the traditional television gamut. Some are little more than "wallpaper" shows -- one taped singing performance after another, interrupted only by a deejay -- like host's comments and introductions. Others are full-scale live-audience programs that use all the complexities of video technique to emulate Johnny Carson's format.

    As their shows vary, so do the preachers themselves. Their styles of preaching -- and entertaining -- include everything from the sotto voce reassurances of a funeral director to the soft rock of bewigged and bejeweled gospel-singing groups to the hellfire and brimstone of the save-yourself-or-be-damned tearful tirades. Viewers are told how to survive the Second Coming, how to

    In the next several pages we present some of the stars (and some who may become stars) of the video vicarage -- who they are, where they came from, what their style is like. Their differences are many. Robert Schuller was the son of prosperous midwestern farmers, and Pat Robertson's father was a U.S. senator from Virginia. But many others have strikingly similar backgrounds. Most grew up in the South. Many came from impoverished families of fundamentalist persuasion. Others had parents who were failures and alcoholics. Most, surprisingly, had little or no formal religious education. But at some point in their lives, all felt a call to take their message to the millions.