Sunday Sermonette: The Savior
I binge-watched two horror stories last week. One transformed ordinary America into a dark hellscape of foreboding, giving only hints of the monster until he was finally revealed in the last episode. The other was the new Netflix miniseries, Stranger Things.
I speak, of course, of the Republican National Convention. A fascist stood before us, telling us how bad things were and how much we had to fear, and concluding with, “I alone can fix it.”
It was difficult to believe that so many otherwise intelligent people could have let him get this far, let alone handing over leadership of the Grand Old Party to him. But it did sound familiar. As the late great Molly Ivins said of a 1992 speech by paleoconservative Pat Buchanan, it "probably sounded better in the original German."
I’ve told this story before, but it bears retelling.
It was the summer of 1972, and my city was part of a Title I program designed to take kids off the streets and expose them to theater arts. I was cast in the starring role of President Wintergreen in “Of The I Sing.” The director was a middle-aged iconoclast who I idolized. One morning, he gathered us together in the gym for warm-up exercises. The last exercise involved slowing building up confidence and strength as he counted up from one (abject suicidal depression) to ten (triumphant godlike power).
One... barely heard from bowed heads and slumped shoulders.
Two... a little louder, a little straighter, a little stronger.
Three... better, better
“Eight!” he called. “Eight!” we all answered with uptilted jaws and a light in our eyes.
“NINE!“ a roar returned.
”TEN!!!“ he bellowed. ”TEN!!!“ the walls rang. ”TEN!!!“ he repeated. ”TEN!!!“ echoed like surf breaking on the rocks. ”TEN!!!“
”Sieg Heil!“ he shouted. ”SIEG HEIL!“ we cried. ”SIEG HEIL!! SIEG HEIL!!! SIEG --“
He clapped his hands sharply, and said in a low, clear voice, ”Never forget how easy it was for one man to make you do that.“
It remains the most vivid lesson I ever learned.
Would the lesson have worked if it were just one-on-one? I doubt it. Individuals are smarter than that. But gathered together in groups, we’re dangerous. A Virginia Tech study showed that even after small meetings, performance of individuals in standardized IQ tests declined. Researchers theorized that group meetings impair the ability for individual thought.
One thing I noticed is that the Convention was structured much like a church revival meeting. There wasn’t a moment for solitary thought - if there wasn’t a speaker on the dais, there was loud music playing. Speakers included a Chachi from Happy Days, a cage-fighting promoter, a casino billionaire, a soap-opera actress, the general manager of Trump Winery, and a handful of clergy. Their faces made grotesque by magnification on the mammoth screens, their voices booming through amplifiers, every emotion became huge and gross. Grieving parents blamed the Democratic candidate for their losses despite the millions of dollars and multiple Congressional hearings that failed to find her culpable. The convention seemed to vacillate between merely imprisoning Mrs. Clinton or putting her before a firing squad. The only thing missing was people rolling in the aisles after being “slain in the Spirit” by a charismatic preacher.
And so the Republican convention has acclaimed its champion. Vox Populi, Vox Dei. The voice of the people is the voice of God.
I speak, of course, of the Republican National Convention. A fascist stood before us, telling us how bad things were and how much we had to fear, and concluding with, “I alone can fix it.”
It was difficult to believe that so many otherwise intelligent people could have let him get this far, let alone handing over leadership of the Grand Old Party to him. But it did sound familiar. As the late great Molly Ivins said of a 1992 speech by paleoconservative Pat Buchanan, it "probably sounded better in the original German."
I’ve told this story before, but it bears retelling.
It was the summer of 1972, and my city was part of a Title I program designed to take kids off the streets and expose them to theater arts. I was cast in the starring role of President Wintergreen in “Of The I Sing.” The director was a middle-aged iconoclast who I idolized. One morning, he gathered us together in the gym for warm-up exercises. The last exercise involved slowing building up confidence and strength as he counted up from one (abject suicidal depression) to ten (triumphant godlike power).
One... barely heard from bowed heads and slumped shoulders.
Two... a little louder, a little straighter, a little stronger.
Three... better, better
“Eight!” he called. “Eight!” we all answered with uptilted jaws and a light in our eyes.
“NINE!“ a roar returned.
”TEN!!!“ he bellowed. ”TEN!!!“ the walls rang. ”TEN!!!“ he repeated. ”TEN!!!“ echoed like surf breaking on the rocks. ”TEN!!!“
”Sieg Heil!“ he shouted. ”SIEG HEIL!“ we cried. ”SIEG HEIL!! SIEG HEIL!!! SIEG --“
He clapped his hands sharply, and said in a low, clear voice, ”Never forget how easy it was for one man to make you do that.“
It remains the most vivid lesson I ever learned.
Would the lesson have worked if it were just one-on-one? I doubt it. Individuals are smarter than that. But gathered together in groups, we’re dangerous. A Virginia Tech study showed that even after small meetings, performance of individuals in standardized IQ tests declined. Researchers theorized that group meetings impair the ability for individual thought.
One thing I noticed is that the Convention was structured much like a church revival meeting. There wasn’t a moment for solitary thought - if there wasn’t a speaker on the dais, there was loud music playing. Speakers included a Chachi from Happy Days, a cage-fighting promoter, a casino billionaire, a soap-opera actress, the general manager of Trump Winery, and a handful of clergy. Their faces made grotesque by magnification on the mammoth screens, their voices booming through amplifiers, every emotion became huge and gross. Grieving parents blamed the Democratic candidate for their losses despite the millions of dollars and multiple Congressional hearings that failed to find her culpable. The convention seemed to vacillate between merely imprisoning Mrs. Clinton or putting her before a firing squad. The only thing missing was people rolling in the aisles after being “slain in the Spirit” by a charismatic preacher.
And so the Republican convention has acclaimed its champion. Vox Populi, Vox Dei. The voice of the people is the voice of God.