Small town religion: how megachurches create micro-intimacy.

On Super Bowl Sunday, shortly after eight in the morning, a couple thousand people found their way to a Richmond auditorium and sat down in front of a large stage with two huge fiat-screen TVs built into the walls at either side. A live band was warming up on risers at the back of the stage. In a few minutes it got down to business as a blonde in fetching attire appeared. She started belting out an upbeat tune, and in no time the assembled were on their feet--clapping, swaying, singing along. There was a palpable sense that something--something exciting, something fun--was about to happen.

Not long after that, the crowd did The Wave--not once, but twice. Two ...