A few months back, my son and I sat down to connect with mainstream culture by watching some episodes of “Duck Dynasty”—about five of them, back to back. That sets me apart from the pundits—the liberal ones, anyway—who, while expressing their dismay at the bigoted comments made by the dynasty’s patriarch, Phil Robertson, in GQ, note that they themselves have never watched the program, and imply that neither would anyone in his right mind.

Admittedly, a reality show about a hunting clan of self-proclaimed rednecks in West Monroe, Louisiana, sounded problematic to me, too—like having to spend time at home with a southern branch of the Palins. But what is remarkable about the show, at least what I’ve seen of it, is its gentle nature. There is no mention of politics or, really, of anything outside the family’s daily routine. And that doesn’t entail much: Uncle Si causes a ruckus, the guys make fun of Willie, and the women pull everyone back into line. “Cupcake Wars” is nastier, and nowhere near as funny. Each “Duck” episode ends with the family at the dinner table, saying grace and passing the biscuits, while the camera pulls outside to show the house secure in the darkness, just as episodes of “The Waltons” used to end.

Some people take offense at the fact that the family fortune is built on hunting. (Morrissey once pulled out of an appearance on the Jimmy Kimmel show rather than share the stage with the Robertson men, whom he called “animal serial killers.”) On the episodes we watched, the family eats what it hunts—or, more often, fishes—although in one, Jase kills a beaver and leaves it in Willie’s kitchen sink, for purposes that remain unclear. And I assume that, if you use a duck call, you’re not killing birds that are released directly into your line of fire, Dick Cheney–style.

The Robertsons first won unexpected attention a few weeks back, when Phil and Willie endorsed the more moderate (relatively speaking) of two Republican contenders for Louisiana’s Fifth Congressional District. Although both the state Tea Party and the Republican establishment favored the other candidate, the Robertsons’ man won. Even Rachel Maddow took note, which raised thoughts in some quarters that the Robertsons could be a force for moderation (relatively speaking). That idea is now on hold.

Sadly, Phil was my favorite character. He looks as if he could be a friend of Willie Nelson. He speaks with the deliberate diction of a Charles Portis character. (West Monroe is closer to the Ozarks than it is to New Orleans.) His whole demeanor has a nineteenth-century solemnity. And he has come through hard times. After playing as a quarterback for Louisiana Tech, he saw periods of heavy drinking and other troubles. In one episode, Phil and his wife, Miss Kay, who eloped nearly fifty years ago, renew their vows in a wedding in the woods. She says that she has loved him since she was fourteen, during times when they were poor as well as some when he “was not so nice.” She adds that now he is “really nice—and kind.”

Not quite to everyone, though. The fact that Robertson spoke to GQ is interesting in itself, but what he said revealed him to be a little too nineteenth century, most notably in his views on sexual orientation: homosexuals are ipso facto sinners. These views stem from Robertson’s religious beliefs, which are conservative, and which he and his family practice at the White’s Ferry Road Church of Christ. They have got him suspended from the show, and this caused controversy in that some of his opinions are shared by many of his fans, and, indeed, by many Americans, not to mention many elected public officials, none of whom have been asked to step down from their jobs in the name of common decency. Sarah Palin, by the way, has weighed in. With a customary backward reading of the situation, she tweeted, “Free speech is an endangered species; those ‘intolerants’ hatin’ & taking on Duck Dynasty patriarch for voicing personal opinion take on us all.”

All the Robertsons are now thinking of leaving “Duck Dynasty.” But perhaps there is another way. Phil preaches at his church. Maybe he could talk with another man of God, the Reverend Frank Schaefer. He was a minister at a United Methodist Church in Pennsylvania, until he was defrocked for having officiated at his son’s same-sex marriage. This week on NPR, it was noted that Schaefer grew up a member of “a small, conservative Baptist congregation in Germany.” He, too, believed that homosexuality was a sin, but over time his views changed. Schaeffer said, “There are people that feel strongly on the other side of the issue, but I’m hoping and praying that they also will go through this evolution and come to the same place that I have come to.” Amen.

Credit: Courtesy A&E.