For an episode that wears piety and Christian charity on its sleeve, The Right Hand of God (TRHoG) is remarkably self-serving. Perhaps it's true that when people, like the characters here, are so convinced that their desires are part of God's plan, the more skeptical you have to be.
As stakeholders in a Sacramento pro boxer's career (!), Sister Angela and her convent hope to use his winnings to finance a new chapel and services (of both kinds) for the homeless. Although many viewers have no interest in the evangelism that goes with that, few will fault the nuns for wanting to do more social work. Nor can we fault Sam (who takes the boxer's place) for hoping to win the prize money on their behalf.
But does that make it okay for the hero Sam to cheat his way to victory? This he does, when he has a friend interfere on his behalf during the fight, and gets special help from a second. The nuns could use the money, but what about the opponent who loses out? At no time does anyone consider his rights, or needs. What if he plans to spend the money on his own charities? What if he depends on that money to keep his family from living in a seedy one-room apartment? Nor is basic sportsmanship considered, needless to say.
This ironic lack of ethics is extra troublesome given the mantle of righteousness TRHoG assumes. Angela's religiosity gains precedence in the plot, reinforced by her manipulative tragic backstory that ends with her born again. She also thinks Sam was sent to her by God to win the prize money. TRHoG would like to think Sam's scheme on behalf of such a person is not just heroic, but holy. In fact, his role in ultimately reaffirming her faith is presented as his purpose in Sacramento no less than his prize-winning is.
The religious elements are rather confused, too. On one level, TRHoG is just indulging in comedy by turning nuns and a priest into boxing fans who train a boxer, attend matches, and cheer on their trainee. The priest even knocks down Sam while sparring. This begs the question of how likely it is that these clerics would show such interest and support for a violent sport that's all about men beating each other until they're bloody, bruised and unconscious.
And its portrayal of Angela as a pious, deeply spiritual woman of faith achieves the opposite. When she fears Sam has lied to her about his plans to win the match for her, it's enough to make her lose faith in God again. A faith that entirely depends on whether one man is telling the truth is a fragile one. Whatever her religious beliefs turn out to be, Angela should probably re-evaluate a few things.
But TRHoG's worst "sin" might be the sexism of Sam pressuring and guilt-tripping his stripper girlfriend to go naked in front of thousands in an arena, as part of his scheme to win his match. Since she's a stripper, he rationalizes, surely this is totally do-able. Compared to this, the clichéd training montages are almost fun.
As stakeholders in a Sacramento pro boxer's career (!), Sister Angela and her convent hope to use his winnings to finance a new chapel and services (of both kinds) for the homeless. Although many viewers have no interest in the evangelism that goes with that, few will fault the nuns for wanting to do more social work. Nor can we fault Sam (who takes the boxer's place) for hoping to win the prize money on their behalf.
But does that make it okay for the hero Sam to cheat his way to victory? This he does, when he has a friend interfere on his behalf during the fight, and gets special help from a second. The nuns could use the money, but what about the opponent who loses out? At no time does anyone consider his rights, or needs. What if he plans to spend the money on his own charities? What if he depends on that money to keep his family from living in a seedy one-room apartment? Nor is basic sportsmanship considered, needless to say.
This ironic lack of ethics is extra troublesome given the mantle of righteousness TRHoG assumes. Angela's religiosity gains precedence in the plot, reinforced by her manipulative tragic backstory that ends with her born again. She also thinks Sam was sent to her by God to win the prize money. TRHoG would like to think Sam's scheme on behalf of such a person is not just heroic, but holy. In fact, his role in ultimately reaffirming her faith is presented as his purpose in Sacramento no less than his prize-winning is.
The religious elements are rather confused, too. On one level, TRHoG is just indulging in comedy by turning nuns and a priest into boxing fans who train a boxer, attend matches, and cheer on their trainee. The priest even knocks down Sam while sparring. This begs the question of how likely it is that these clerics would show such interest and support for a violent sport that's all about men beating each other until they're bloody, bruised and unconscious.
And its portrayal of Angela as a pious, deeply spiritual woman of faith achieves the opposite. When she fears Sam has lied to her about his plans to win the match for her, it's enough to make her lose faith in God again. A faith that entirely depends on whether one man is telling the truth is a fragile one. Whatever her religious beliefs turn out to be, Angela should probably re-evaluate a few things.
But TRHoG's worst "sin" might be the sexism of Sam pressuring and guilt-tripping his stripper girlfriend to go naked in front of thousands in an arena, as part of his scheme to win his match. Since she's a stripper, he rationalizes, surely this is totally do-able. Compared to this, the clichéd training montages are almost fun.