Ann Arbor Meets the Phelpses
Headed up to Ann Arbor a few weekends ago to photograph a scorpion’s tail.
Phil and I cut through Chicago and smoggy Gary, Indiana to end up in Ann Arbor, Michigan. A local theater group had decided to put on a production of The Laramie Project, which dramatizes the murder of Matthew Shepard, a young gay man. I’ve never seen it, and I didn’t mean to this weekend, but I hear it’s terribly affecting. It’s also incredibly controversial for its pro-gay message. Evangelists hate it. Some more than others.
Fred Phelps is a preacher and lawyer, formerly a practicing attorney in civil rights cases around the middle of the century. He’s a wiry man with big teeth, a former Golden Gloves boxer fond of wearing a humongous cowboy hat. His flock is the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas. Counts vary as to their numbers, but a young man I talked to from the church says there are at least seventy. Most of them are related to Phelps. He has 13 children and 54 grandchildren. Eleven of his children are lawyers. Four no longer speak to him.
“What is happening now, is that this country is in the midst of a Jonah situation,” said Sam Phelps Roper, 27, one of Phelps’ grandchildren, who quite clearly still speaks to the old man. It’s early evening and the Mendelsohn Theater is host to two productions tonight. Sam is in front of the theater with about ten other members of the church. Two are children. They have their own area on the sidewalk, surrounded by yellow police tape. About five hundred Ann Arborites, University of Michigan students, and others have essentially surrounded the church members. Nearly all of them are yelling, and the church members have responded in kind. Sam has taken some time out to talk to me about the purpose of his group.
He carries a sign that says “God Hates Fags”. It’s neon and puke green, with a little bit of orange. The other side says “Thank God For AIDS”. Are they, I had asked, attempting to save souls, or merely warning them of their damnation?
“Do you know who Jonah is?” Sam asks me. I do, at least to some extent. Swallowed by a whale, right? Converted to Christianity afterwards?
Sam looks at me like I insulted his mother. Lack of scriptural knowledge is a big no-no amongst Phelps’ flock. “He didn’t convert to Christianity. He already was a Christian. Afterwards, he preached to the city of Nineveh that God was displeased with them. They repented and were saved, but he did not tell them to repent.”
So you’re trying to tell them they’re going to hell?
“Everyone here who does not accept the word of God will go to hell. He is not a forgiving God. The spiritual man judges everything.”
The Westboro Baptist Church, in one form or another, attends approximately 2500 of these protests per year. Their message is simple; America is a godless nation and is therefore condemned to be cast into hell.
What constitutes ground for condemnation is another story. Their main complaint with America is its tolerance of homosexuality; as one sign puts it, God not only hates Fags but also Fag Enablers, who are equally condemned. God hates those who do not follow his scripture to the letter. Women who cut their hair are condemned. Those who drink and party are condemned. Ostensibly, those who eat shellfish are also condemned, as Leviticus puts it, but I didn’t see any “God Hates Cephalopods” signs.
Evidence for this condemnation abounds in the eyes of the church. Hurricane Katrina was sent to punish Godless New Orleans. 9/11 was sent to punish Godless New York. Even roadside bombs in Iraq are evidence of condemnation; how else, Sam asks, could a soldier from the most powerful army in the world be killed by a simple explosive? “Thank God for IEDs” is a more recent, popular sign, and the church uses it when they demonstrate at the funerals of U.S. servicemen killed in Iraq.
Not ten feet away from us, Charles Hockenbarger is arguing with Lee Chrisman. Hockenbarger is a bull-faced man with earmuffs and the sign informing Fag Enablers that they will etc. etc. Chrisman is a freshman, majoring in acting. Their conversation is set on a loop.
“You can’t even quote for me the correct verse! You don’t know anything about the Bible,” Hockenbarger yells. His voice is very strong and can be heard easily in a crowd. “How can you argue with me, you moron? You hate God. You hate him.”
Chrisman is a Roman Catholic, a group for which the church saves special disdain. “I don’t hate God! I love God, and I love you too! You have to realize what you’re doing is wrong! God does not hate! God loves everybody.”
Again, says Hockenbarger, Chrisman is ignorant of scripture. “Haven’t you ever read Psalm 5:5?” he screams. “It says that God hates Esau! God does not love everybody. And how can you say you love me when everybody here has been threatening us? Why do we need these cops here?”
One thing is slowly becoming apparent. The Westboro Baptist Church is crazy, but its members aren’t stupid. They’re skilled arguers and exceptional propagandists; more importantly, they have message discipline. The same message is repeated ad infinitum from every mouth: God Hates Fags, God Hates You, God Hates America, You’re Going to Hell. Their opponents are less well-prepared; the sheer vitriol seems to force them down disparate and blind pathways: What Is Wrong With You changes to God Loves Everybody changes to You People are Idiots changes to I Would Have Sex With You. It’s a sad fact that those with the worst messages are usually the best at spreading them.
Furthermore, their law degrees have come in handy. A middle-aged woman records the proceedings on a handheld DiviCam, focusing on any particularly intense arguments. If a fight breaks out, they will use the footage as evidence in a court of law. Likely they’ll win; they never start physical confrontations, but they know how to profit from them.
This nearly comes to a head as the church members pack up their signs and leave. Phil and I had been allowed complete access behind the yellow line up until this point. The police officers asked us and anyone else not carrying a sign to back up, so we did, despite protests. Hockenbarger and Phelps-Roper called everyone together into a tight clump, where they deposited their signs into a petite green bag. As they begin to leave, a few young guys wearing Michigan sweatshirts begin to run toward them. The crowd starts to cheer, although the perceptive ones realize that this is exactly what the church members want, and yell at the others to stop. They do, but only because the cops have formed a protective wall in front of the church members.
As with most demonstrations, the end comes as an anticlimax. The church members drive off in their cars and the counter-demonstrators are left with vaguely clever signs and sore throats as memories of their experience. The show, almost forgotten in all the conflict, still goes on. It’s difficult to follow such an entertaining opening act.
Phil and I cut through Chicago and smoggy Gary, Indiana to end up in Ann Arbor, Michigan. A local theater group had decided to put on a production of The Laramie Project, which dramatizes the murder of Matthew Shepard, a young gay man. I’ve never seen it, and I didn’t mean to this weekend, but I hear it’s terribly affecting. It’s also incredibly controversial for its pro-gay message. Evangelists hate it. Some more than others.
Fred Phelps is a preacher and lawyer, formerly a practicing attorney in civil rights cases around the middle of the century. He’s a wiry man with big teeth, a former Golden Gloves boxer fond of wearing a humongous cowboy hat. His flock is the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas. Counts vary as to their numbers, but a young man I talked to from the church says there are at least seventy. Most of them are related to Phelps. He has 13 children and 54 grandchildren. Eleven of his children are lawyers. Four no longer speak to him.
“What is happening now, is that this country is in the midst of a Jonah situation,” said Sam Phelps Roper, 27, one of Phelps’ grandchildren, who quite clearly still speaks to the old man. It’s early evening and the Mendelsohn Theater is host to two productions tonight. Sam is in front of the theater with about ten other members of the church. Two are children. They have their own area on the sidewalk, surrounded by yellow police tape. About five hundred Ann Arborites, University of Michigan students, and others have essentially surrounded the church members. Nearly all of them are yelling, and the church members have responded in kind. Sam has taken some time out to talk to me about the purpose of his group.
He carries a sign that says “God Hates Fags”. It’s neon and puke green, with a little bit of orange. The other side says “Thank God For AIDS”. Are they, I had asked, attempting to save souls, or merely warning them of their damnation?
“Do you know who Jonah is?” Sam asks me. I do, at least to some extent. Swallowed by a whale, right? Converted to Christianity afterwards?
Sam looks at me like I insulted his mother. Lack of scriptural knowledge is a big no-no amongst Phelps’ flock. “He didn’t convert to Christianity. He already was a Christian. Afterwards, he preached to the city of Nineveh that God was displeased with them. They repented and were saved, but he did not tell them to repent.”
So you’re trying to tell them they’re going to hell?
“Everyone here who does not accept the word of God will go to hell. He is not a forgiving God. The spiritual man judges everything.”
The Westboro Baptist Church, in one form or another, attends approximately 2500 of these protests per year. Their message is simple; America is a godless nation and is therefore condemned to be cast into hell.
What constitutes ground for condemnation is another story. Their main complaint with America is its tolerance of homosexuality; as one sign puts it, God not only hates Fags but also Fag Enablers, who are equally condemned. God hates those who do not follow his scripture to the letter. Women who cut their hair are condemned. Those who drink and party are condemned. Ostensibly, those who eat shellfish are also condemned, as Leviticus puts it, but I didn’t see any “God Hates Cephalopods” signs.
Evidence for this condemnation abounds in the eyes of the church. Hurricane Katrina was sent to punish Godless New Orleans. 9/11 was sent to punish Godless New York. Even roadside bombs in Iraq are evidence of condemnation; how else, Sam asks, could a soldier from the most powerful army in the world be killed by a simple explosive? “Thank God for IEDs” is a more recent, popular sign, and the church uses it when they demonstrate at the funerals of U.S. servicemen killed in Iraq.
Not ten feet away from us, Charles Hockenbarger is arguing with Lee Chrisman. Hockenbarger is a bull-faced man with earmuffs and the sign informing Fag Enablers that they will etc. etc. Chrisman is a freshman, majoring in acting. Their conversation is set on a loop.
“You can’t even quote for me the correct verse! You don’t know anything about the Bible,” Hockenbarger yells. His voice is very strong and can be heard easily in a crowd. “How can you argue with me, you moron? You hate God. You hate him.”
Chrisman is a Roman Catholic, a group for which the church saves special disdain. “I don’t hate God! I love God, and I love you too! You have to realize what you’re doing is wrong! God does not hate! God loves everybody.”
Again, says Hockenbarger, Chrisman is ignorant of scripture. “Haven’t you ever read Psalm 5:5?” he screams. “It says that God hates Esau! God does not love everybody. And how can you say you love me when everybody here has been threatening us? Why do we need these cops here?”
One thing is slowly becoming apparent. The Westboro Baptist Church is crazy, but its members aren’t stupid. They’re skilled arguers and exceptional propagandists; more importantly, they have message discipline. The same message is repeated ad infinitum from every mouth: God Hates Fags, God Hates You, God Hates America, You’re Going to Hell. Their opponents are less well-prepared; the sheer vitriol seems to force them down disparate and blind pathways: What Is Wrong With You changes to God Loves Everybody changes to You People are Idiots changes to I Would Have Sex With You. It’s a sad fact that those with the worst messages are usually the best at spreading them.
Furthermore, their law degrees have come in handy. A middle-aged woman records the proceedings on a handheld DiviCam, focusing on any particularly intense arguments. If a fight breaks out, they will use the footage as evidence in a court of law. Likely they’ll win; they never start physical confrontations, but they know how to profit from them.
This nearly comes to a head as the church members pack up their signs and leave. Phil and I had been allowed complete access behind the yellow line up until this point. The police officers asked us and anyone else not carrying a sign to back up, so we did, despite protests. Hockenbarger and Phelps-Roper called everyone together into a tight clump, where they deposited their signs into a petite green bag. As they begin to leave, a few young guys wearing Michigan sweatshirts begin to run toward them. The crowd starts to cheer, although the perceptive ones realize that this is exactly what the church members want, and yell at the others to stop. They do, but only because the cops have formed a protective wall in front of the church members.
As with most demonstrations, the end comes as an anticlimax. The church members drive off in their cars and the counter-demonstrators are left with vaguely clever signs and sore throats as memories of their experience. The show, almost forgotten in all the conflict, still goes on. It’s difficult to follow such an entertaining opening act.