Memphis-based pastor and radio personality Thaddeus Matthews, known extensively as the 'Cussing Pastor' for his distinctive style of preaching, passed away at the age of 67 yesterday after a period of illness, as confirmed by social media posts from his wife, Melanie Matthews. "No more sickness and no more worries. You said you were tired and wanted to rest. Today at 2:25pm, you transitioned peacefully surrounded by family and friends!" she wrote, as reported by Action News 5.
Matthews amassed a significant online following for his irreverent and profanity-laced sermons, leading to his moniker 'The Cussing Pastor'; his social media influence was notable with 103,000 followers on Facebook, more than 7,000 on Instagram, and 78,000 subscribers on YouTube, according to FOX13 Memphis. His career was dotted with moments of virality and controversy, like when his "I don't give a s*** Saturday" clip found its way into a song by Freddie Gibbs and Madlib and also an episode of Tosh.0, an event delineated in a piece by The Commercial Appeal.
Beyond his provocative approach to ministry, Matthews's polarizing figure extended into legal and political arenas, grappling with charges ranging from posting child pornography, attributed to an ill-fated attempt to identify the victim, to harassment and violating Tennessee's "revenge porn" law, as noted by The Commercial Appeal. Despite these challenges, Matthews continued to use his platform to discuss regional politics, share gossip, and offer endorsements, as demonstrated during his radio exchange with former Shelby County District Attorney Amy Weirich.
His dialogue encompassed local political machinations, which peaked during the 2019 city council elections when he faced backlash from LGBTQ organizations over homophobic remarks aimed at an openly gay candidate, his voice often enmeshed with city’s political beat and the strokes of influence he wielded, sometimes contentious, sometimes conciliatory, even as regarding political endorsements, as per a report by The Commercial Appeal. Matthews' passing summons a pause in the Memphis community, leaving a legacy not solely defined by his cussing but by the complexity of a man who stood at the confluence of faith, free speech, and infamy.
