By Steve Goddard

According to a recent edition of Christianity Today, a goofy cartoon character in The Simpsons TV cartoon series is more strongly associated with the word "Christian" than the Pope, Mother Teresa or Billy Graham. Our man in front of the small screen, Steve Goddard, investigates.

They are consummate risk-takers – God-fearing "Davids" who pitch themselves against godless "Goliaths". They rail against corrupt systems, overturn political structures and drag back the faithful, sometimes screaming and kicking, to the one true faith.

Nowadays, in a fragmented world in which harsh orthodoxy of any kind is derided as politically incorrect, it's kind of tough being a faith hero. No one listens. No one cares. If Moses was hassling Pharoah today, he would be labelled a whacko who talks to bushes that answer back. Paul's adventure on the way to Damascus – "see, there was this voice coming from nowhere... no one else heard it, mind..." – would probably land him some time inside a straitjacket.

Faith heroes these days have to be a tad more subtle. Most of all, they need to be good at something else as well – successful sportsmen, leading actors, talented musicians. Better still, they need to have been saved from a life of sin, debauchery and excess. Being a talentless, ordinary, dull believer in dull suburbia, like the rest of us, is just, well, too ordinary and dull.

According to Christianity Today magazine, the name most associated with the word "Christian" on American college and high school campuses is not the Pope or Mother Teresa or even Billy Graham. He sports a daring El Bandito moustache, fashionless green jumper, thick-rimmed specs and has a thin, hesitant voice. His characteristics are distinctive in their very indistinctiveness.

He is Ned Flanders – the Bible-believing, okily-dokily-uttering, next-door neighbour of TV cartoon family The Simpsons.

He's a nerd. And somehow, we can't help but love him for it.

Of course, we cringe at his doorbell that chimes the hymn "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" and at the name of his boat: "Thanks for the Boat, Lord II". We grimace at his children's favourite games: Good Samaritan and Clothe the Leper. We can't believe it when he opens a boutique and spends the day ignoring shoplifters and chasing down a customer he inadvertently short-changed.

Ned is so dull, so worthy, so good, that he is charismatic in his sheer lack of charisma. He is so self-deprecating that he describes himself as "just about as exciting as a baked potato", but then risks his life saving Homer from a house fire. When a falling comet threatens the town of Springfield, Ned allows Homer to force him out of his own overcrowded shelter. When Maude, his wife, dies in a freak accident, Ned blames himself and goes through a crisis of faith.

Ned is scorned and ridiculed, mainly by Homer, who refers to his neighbour by a variety of derisive terms like "Charlie Church," and "Churchy La Femme." Yet, through it all, Ned keeps on smiling, irrepressibly. And that's his genius.

Frederica Mathewes-Green, writing on Beliefnet.com, says: "Ned is endlessly cheerful because he is pure in heart. He treats everyone around him with generosity and kindness, and can't imagine they wouldn't treat him the same way. He is incapable of cynicism or contempt." While he may be a fool, she observes, he is the kind of fool who makes the world a better place.

Sociologist John Heeren became intrigued by the religion of the Simpsons. He analysed 71 episodes and presented his findings before the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion in the USA. He found that 69 per cent of the episodes contained at least one religious reference, and more than one in 10 plots centered on a religious issue.

Heeren points out how the show's writers consistently contrast two symbolic characters. On one side is Pastor Timothy Lovejoy, who is the face of institutionalised, "professional" religion. Cynical and world-weary, he uses the public library's Bible only if required. Lovejoy thinks all world's religions are "pretty much the same," and is more often seen playing with his train set than ministering to his flock.

On the other side is Flanders, a pew potato in Lovejoy's church with, ironically, greater faith than his own minister.

"Lovejoy, Homer, and many other characters make up their religious beliefs as they go along," suggests Heeren. "But Flanders is a true believer."

Not much else in the town of Springfield is that flawlessly good. An alternative philosophy is enunciated by nuclear plant owner Montgomery Burns: "Family, religion, friendship: these are the three demons you must slay if you wish to succeed in business. When opportunity knocks, you don't want to be singing in some phony-baloney church or synagogue." Ned Flanders is a beam of light in a depressing town.

What is fascinating, argues Heeren, is that the other characters often "see the light" and eventually try to act more like Flanders. As a result, the Simpsons almost always ends up affirming some element of a generic Judao-Christian creed – honesty, family, community, selflessness and love.

But we do know what it's like to be ridiculed and abused by the ignorant Homers of this world. We know what it's like to try to live simply, faithfully, boringly – and not necessarily see the reward for it.

So you can put Moses, Daniel and the apostles in stained glass if you want. But if you're re-ordering the church and want a new theme for the western aisle, my vote for the coloured glass would be St Flanders.

But there again, Ned himself would be too "humbly-dumbly, overwhelmed, neighbor," to accept such an honour.

© Ship of Fools 2001