methinks

NYC - The Crusade

I am not a follower of Billy Graham, neither physically nor spiritually. Before Sunday I'd never been to one of his Crusades, the term used for his multi-day (often multi-week) mission efforts, and didn't know what variety of salvation he preached.

I didn't go for the message, I went for the event. I went because Mr. Graham is one of the most respected leaders of our time, and has a reputation for equally respecting his contemporaries regardless of creed. I went because many predicted this Crusade will be his last. I went because his rise to "stardom" came in New York nearly 50 years ago when he extended his Crusade for sixteen weeks, six nights a week. I went for the history and experience of it all.

I dwell on why I went and why I didn't because I need to set my observations of the Crusade in a larger context. You see, I have almost nothing to say about Mr. Graham, a loss of words not shared by the media. All I can say is that he spoke with the skill of fifty years experience and the repose of a man comfortable with his impending death (he's very ill). He obviously had great charisma and was the reason the 90,000 people sat in the sun for three hours that balmy afternoon. But he was also just one man out of those 90,000 and spoke for twenty minutes of the three hour program. If there is a story to be told, it is not the story of him standing on stage, but of the pedestrians on the lawn.

The Crusade was in the park surrounding Shea Stadium, home of the Mets, and deep into Queens. Had this been twenty years ago, there would have been an ironic connection between the then sinful Times Square and the pious Crusade, as they are on opposite ends of the number 7 train. No such irony today.

I arrived via the 7 at about five minutes until the official start time of 3:00 p.m. I'd heard the metaphor "sea of people" before, but didn't understand how accurate it was until I saw, from the elevated train platform, the waves of people walking towards the park. Steps and obstacles would create gaps in the crowd, which would then fill in. The waves flowed forwards until they got beyond the confining walkways designed to coral people from the train to the stadium and park, then it dissipated as everyone went their own way to look for a chair or a shady piece of grass.

There were, from what I saw, four large sections of seating. The largest was the "real" one, where you could actually see the photos reflected from the real people on stage, instead of the massive teletron TVs; it was completely full and blocked off by fences and police by the time I arrived. One unlucky soul had to stand at the fork in the road that lead to the "real" area and tell people - over and over and over - that the section was full and that they needed to keep walking to the overflow area. "But, my family's in there. I'm just going to take a peek," or the smile and nod followed by total disregard for instructions...this is what this man with the mega-phone had to contend with for 3 hours straight. I was walking in circles around the park, so I saw him several times throughout the day. His demeanor went from polite to short to, frankly, bitchy. The last I heard he was throwing a temper tantrum into the megaphone saying, "Keep moving. Keep moving. This is not a standing area. You can't stand here. Go to the left. That's this way." The next time I saw him he was silent, megaphone by his side, and flanked by three police officers on motorcycles.

Wandering around the event - every where but the off-limits area - I was struck by how few white people there were. I'd estimate that less than 20% of the people in the overflow area were white, and the bulk of those were student church groups. There were probably an equal to slightly less number of black families, with the overwhelming majority being Asian and Hispanic. I've since learned that Flushing, the district in Queens where this took place, is home to the largest Chinese community in NYC and one of the largest Korean communities. Queens in general is also very diverse, and thus could've contributed to the demographics at the event. I'd accept location as the only explanation, except for two things. First, I was one of eight white people on a very full subway car that went all the way from Times Square to Shea's Stadium, and lost only a handful of people along the way. What I'm saying is that even starting in the heart of Manhattan, Mr. Graham's audience was not very white. Second, before the Crusade was over - but after Mr. Graham had concluded his sermon - people started to leave, started to speed walk towards the subway. Those people where mostly white. At the subway platform (yes, I was one of the most speedy), the entire platform was filled with white people. I'm not sure what to make of that. What does that say about the cultural differences among races in New York City? Are the whites busier? Less religious? Or did they just live farther away?

Before Billy Graham gave his sermon, there were many lesser figures on stage, though I didn't have the interest to really "watch" them all. I strolled and ate ice cream and took photos - as did many other people; it was a park after all - and then would glance up at a teletron from time to time to see what was playing. The first of those times I found the President of the Police Officers for Christ giving an insulting speech about 9/11. He certainly didn't intend it that way. The man lost many friends that day. He sought to honor them, but in so doing he cheapened them. Following his speech was a similar speech from the President of the Fire Fighters for Christ.

What I struggle to understand is how nearly four years after the fact, 9/11 is the only noteworthy act of heroism or patriotism. That string has been plucked so many times, by so many fingers, that its sound is dull and flat. The names of those lost are invoked for everything from anti-flag burning amendments to the entire war in Iraq. In fact, President Bush made that connection last night. If you want to play that game, ask this question. Do you think the victims of 9/11 would like their deaths to be used as a rhetorical device? I think the victims of 9/11 died a tragic death. All of them, civilians and civil servants should be remembered and honored, but their tragedy and heroism should not be a tool for furthering agendas nor should it eclipse the tragedy and heroism of today.

What I fail to understand is how the heroism of civil servants finds a home in a religious service at all. When you have an audience of 90,000 people from all walks of life, who've all come to hear a man speak of a Call to Christ, how does honoring a specific group of heroes fit with that theme? It can only be a tacit acknowledgement - perhaps even a subconscious acknowledgement - that we are fighting not a war against Terror, not a war against Iraq, but a Holy War against Muslims.

Not all the speakers were so serious. Most in fact were musical groups, playing rockish Christian songs. My particular favorite song was Dance With Jesus, not because of the song itself - though it was a catchy tune - but because a woman near where I was resting took the lyrics quiet literally.

She was forty-ish and plump wearing leather Keds, white socks folded over once, shorts and a t-shirt. She permmed her own hair. The up-tempo song said to dance, so she did, but not like one would expect. It was as if she were a young ballerina, who'd learned the most fundamental of foot moves, and decided to leave hand placement up to the wind. First she was a swan, flapping her wings in take off. Then she was a tree swaying in the breeze. I think once she was cloud floating through the sky, but it could've been an impression of earth's elliptical orbit around the sun. All this she did standing in place. Her feet moved, but only to point her toes, to move through first, second, third positions and then return. If she put her left foot directly in front of her right, her arms would do the sweeping swan and then she would spin around 180 degrees. At any other time, any other place, you would think she was nuts, or at the very least an awful dancer. But here, at this Crusade, she showed us all what it means to internalize Jesus' teachings and be "like a child", because that what she was. From the expression on her face to the uncoordinated limbs, she was a five-year-old dancing in her front yard, oblivious to the eyes of the world.

I was tired of wandering, tired of standing in the sun, so with less than an hour remaining I found a nice patch of grassy shade behind a row of senior citizens in their own chairs along the paved footpath's edge. We could see and hear the teletron from our vantage point, but were not actually in the designated seating area; there was no shade in those areas.

The leader of the senior citizens was a kind of reverend. At first glace I would say Catholic - he wore a stiff white collar on a black shirt - but the woman to his right (he sat on the far left end of the row) interacted with him as if she were his wife, so perhaps Episcopalian. Regardless, he played the part of tour guide for this line of thirteen people, likely members of his congregation. When a speaker would take the podium, the Reverend would explain the man's connection to Billy Graham - if any - and other such banter. When George Shea (an original member of the Billy Graham Crusade and author of the hymn How Great Thou Art, which he was there to sing) appeared on the teletron, the Reverend said, "I remember seeing him in '55," in a tone that emphasized the "I" far more than the "him". His congregation gave him nods of admiration down the row. Then came the scandal.

A man with a heavy beard and long hair in a ponytail walked in front of the row from left to right - from Reverend to the other end - with a pamphlet extended in his hand. This man and many others like him had been there all day passing out literature on their beliefs and on Billy Graham. I'll tell you who they are and what they believe, but first we'll finish the scene.

The bearded man extended the pamphlet and the entire line of chairs stiffened and fell mute. The bearded man smiled and offered it at a walking pace to everyone in the row, until finally the last women in the line extended her hand to take it. Obviously she was not aware that her companions had turned to ice cubes at the bearded man's approach, nor did she hear the Reverend shouting - yes, shouting - "Sharon! Sharon! Sharon!" which I took to be her name. She clasped the pamphlet in her fingers, completed the transaction, and the bearded man kept on walking.

The Reverend bellowed down the row to Sharon, disgust across his face, "That's CULT stuff!"

Sharon must've not understood how serious that was. She didn't throw it down or set it on fire or pass out or anything. She just held on to it, looked at it, and even started to open the first page. The Reverend gave a double-chin shaking nod to his wife/companion, who jumped up and ran down the line of people to snatch the pamphlet from Sharon's hands. She returned just as quickly, but this time held the pamphlet out to her side like a dirty diaper. She threw it into a plastic bag the Reverend had ready, a bag which contained many more of those pamphlets, some of them torn into shreds.

Again, Sharon was slow to comprehend the gravity of the situation. She didn't call for the Holy Water Hand Wipes, nor did she even have the tact to thank Reverend's Helper for snatching the cult pamphlet from her hand. She just sat there and looked perplexed. Reverend had to call her down for a chat.

"Sharon, that was cult material. They pervert the gospel. They make it look like they have something to do with Billy Graham, but it's just a cult." She nodded and went back to her seat.

So who is this nefarious cult spreading evil at Billy Graham's Crusade? They call themselves the The Twelve Tribes, though it's not a claim to be THE twelve tribes of Israel, but rather a reference to the fact that they have communities in twelve geographic regions (and of course, it is also a reference to the twelve tribes of Israel, no matter what their website says). I'd seen many of them on the way in, and even stopped to talk to one about his beard. He seemed like a nice guy, and told me that they - his church - believes God created man with a beard, so man should not shave it off just to suit social norms. What else do they believe?

They live in communes and sell crafts and produce. They make their own clothes. They believe that faith alone is not enough, works are also needed (The faith v. faith/work debate is as old as Christianity; some say faith in Christ is enough to be saved, others say faith and works, i.e. doing what the Bible says you should do, are both necessary; hardly a cultish belief.) They don't own TVs, and they do home school their children. They think Billy Graham is great, but would like to see more sincere, long term conversions than the mass Calls to Christ, which get tabulated on the Graham Score Card. Perhaps their most "cultish" belief is that they believe Heathen's - people who never had a chance to hear the Gospel - don't go to hell by default, but that is hardly an unique belief either. Overall, they seem a lot like modern day Amish, but with the use of electricity. Are the Amish a dangerous cult? They were certainly seen as such when they started, so I guess there is not much difference in that regard either.

On my way out of the park, I saw members of the Twelve Tribes dancing and old fashioned circle dance. I'm sure it has a name, but I don't know what it would be. It seemed wholesome, and certainly no goats and alters in the middle. Those not dancing were pleasantly chatting with interested passersbys. Their children played tag in the open field.

It seemed to me then ironic, almost comic, that the community that most embodied Christ's teachings, that lived the closest to the Bible, was branded a cult by those who presented themselves as devout followers of the main event, Billy Graham, a man who undoubtedly would've welcomed them all to worship as brothers.

Posted by dacriss at June 29, 2005 10:16 PM