The disgraced televangelist built his career on an undeniable talent. His downfall contributed to a major shift in how Americans viewed religious leaders.

THE DEATH THIS WEEK OF JIMMY SWAGGART at the age of 90 brings to an end one of the most controversial and remarkable careers in recent American religious life. For younger Americans, Swaggart’s name might not mean anything; others might recall blurry footage of a weeping preacher confessing, “I have sinned.” And sin he did, but in a time when Americans have become accustomed to seeing headlines about sex scandals involving religious leaders, it’s hard to convey just how consequential his indiscretions seemed when they were first reported.

The story broke in 1988 and caused an immediate media earthquake. The ground shook because Swaggart had fallen from a great height: He was, for a time, one of the most powerful religious voices in America, commanding a global television ministry, shaping conservative politics, and presenting himself as a moral compass to millions.

One of the challenges when it comes to properly evaluating Swaggart as a public figure is that nowadays we are not inclined to imagine a televangelist as a figure inherently worthy of any real respect. But the man’s own scandals are one of the reasons for that. When Swaggart’s resonant voice first started being heard in living rooms across the country, TV preachers occupied a very different place in the American imagination than they do today.

Swaggart emerged from the rural Pentecostal world of midcentury Louisiana, where fervent faith and musical flair often went hand in hand. His family background offered intimations of his later path: His cousins, rock-and-roll legend Jerry Lee Lewis and country singer Mickey Gilley, both had the signature family blend of raw talent and unruly impulse. But while they chased fame across beer-soaked honky-tonk stages, Swaggart was drawn to a different kind of spectacle: revivals.

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