Experiences as a pseudo Gonzo reporter from the heart of the Protestant
establishment
July 30th 2011-
Day 1
After driving for almost 7
hours I decided to head towards the Rocky
Mountain National
Forest Colorado Rocky Mountains to its present state, but that same rock
seemed so numb and disregarding of the human history and its attempts to
conquer a mountain that has, and always will be, unwilling to be subjugated to
such an unworthy force. How these rocks were a force to be reckoned with I
found out shortly when I discovered that the forest road was inaccessible. It was
not designed for my little Nissan Sentra to pass through. Somewhat frustrated
and extremely hungry, I started driving around looking for a place to put my
tent up for the night. I wasn’t at all looking forward to my usual dinner for
one of bland Ramen noodles and Texturized Vegetable Protein, which is as plain,
tasteless, and dull as it sounds. But I had become accustomed to my late night
travel diet of the past two months. Since I had started this trip, I set myself
a budget of 5 dollars a day, and it was enough to satisfy my hunger, though it
was nourishment without any significant taste.
I drove around for a while
looking for a nice person to ask if I could just set up my tent in their
backyard for the night. Coming from Israel ,
didn’t get in the way of a flourishing conversation. I guess that between being Jewish,
and from Israel and my random or divine arrival (depending on your personal
point of view) at a bible school, I can now understand how only several minutes
into the conversation I was offered dinner. “Free dinner” I said half to
myself, but apparently out loud “, I can never
say no to that.”
Clint, my newly acquainted
host, came out apologetically with a plate of lukewarm Bratwurst sausages,
mildly overdone, and some cold, runny mashed potatoes on the side. The mere
sight of the plate had excited my rumbling bowls, demanding that I finally
conform to its delayed requests. Although I knew in my mind, that the
cold and liquid texture of the mashed potatoes was not how they were supposed
to be served, my intestines made no such distinctions. Both my mind and my body
were truly grateful for real meat and a wholesome dinner, I expressed my joy by
flashing a shy smile between bites of the tepid sausage, devouring everything
on my plate.
While seated on the small
stool, randomly placed for me outside the kitchen, an array of eager and
perplexed smiles were shot in my way from the young disciples. In what seemed to me an attempt
to keep me engaged, Clint introduced me to Drew, a young
minister at the school. His subtle
flamboyance, and
prominent masculine jaw seemed to contrast the calm and inviting demeanor with
which he approached our conversation. Within
minutes of explaining Christianity to a non-believer such as myself, he had compared
homosexuality with stealing, and proclaimed both a sin. I attempted to nod silently and
hide the rage I felt inside for expressing such an outrageous opinion so overtly.
But I was his guest, and I felt it would be slightly impolite to express my
gratitude for dinner with uncontrollable fury. But most of all, I was still
hoping to be fed some more. During the
conversation I was gradually able to put aside the shocking comparison and
engaged the unknown and curious topic of Christian theology. I debated the
obviously biased information I was receiving from Drew, on two different
levels. The first volley was the array of questions and answers I was
conducting with Drew. This was on a superficial level. At the same time I was
also maintaining a completely contradictory debate with myself. I Doubted every
single word Drew spoke and reconstructed it to appease my sacrilegious attitude,
which I had assembled for the past 27 years of my life. Later, while taking a
shower in the room they put me in, I decided to turn this experience into a
game. I named it “My secret investigations as a pseudo Gonzo reporter from the
heart of the protestant establishment.”. As a self proclaimed reporter, from that
point on I was obliged to further engage my hosts, a difficult task that was eased by my genuine
interest in the topic.
Drew, a self proclaimed messenger of God, “had
been given God’s gift to teach and speak” and the conversation continued
without even a pause. When I asked about the Mormons I had recently visited in Salt Lake City he explained to me that “Those quacks
aren’t really Christian. They think of
themselves as becoming God through God’s work. Those Psychos.” I was disinclined
to explain to him that the notion of Jesus existing in you, thus creating the
holy trinity, which he had been explaining to me for the past 45 minutes,
sounded as insane as becoming a God.
However the Gonzo edict prevented me from speaking my mind . The code of
Gonzo Journalism which I was only vaguely familiar with, is to get involved and
to become part of the group which you are studying and to report from within.
Drew told me about the men’s convention going on this weekend and invited me to
stay for the weekend. Assuming a positive answer, he added that there would be
coffee and cake at the morning lecture, and, if I wanted, he could get me a
bed. As I have already mentioned, I took him up on that offer. I wasn’t sure if
they were trying to evangelize me, well actually, of course they were. But I was sure they did not understand with whom
they were dealing. So tomorrow I think I will have more to report on. But I must
get some rest in order to further prepare for a new day of intellectual battles
that will take place apparently only in my own mind. Which is exactly how I
like them.
Until tomorrow,
I. N. Trigue. (My new
gonzo name)
July
31st 2011 – Day 2
The lecture started on the
second day explaining to us how we are all fallen and sinful beings by nature
and about bringing Christ into our lives. While reminding myself of my job as a
pseudo- Gonzo journalist, I tried to ask only tactful, intelligent questions,
so as to not give away my secret mission. I joined the group for morning coffee
and cake after the service. Although my stomach was still somewhat aching from
yesterday’s unexpected dinner, the temptation of a hot beverage prepared by
someone other than myself was greater than my commanding innards. The cake,
effortlessly mounded on a plain table seemed to be taken for granted by all
participants but myself. The sweet bite
of chocolate was almost overwhelming, exploding in my mouth, pounding against,
what seemed like every taste bud in existence. I tried my best to veil my
excitement while I talked to the people present, telling them stories of my
travels, and replying to their various questions about the place I call home,
referred to by them as the Holy Land .
As I sat there, surrounded
by true believers for the first time in my life (well, true believers of Jesus
Christ, “our Lord and Savior”), I further pursued my investigations. I tried to figure out the design, the master
plan behind this faith that created an enslaving system for people of
intelligence. This dude, Jesus, whom
they had accepted into their lives has saved them, but how does that work? Even
if I were to believe that Jesus did walk among us as a man, I still believed
that there had to be a design that turned this simple man’s life into a
religion. I was determined to discover
the mechanism that transformed John, who was praying on his knees bedside me,
into an imprisoned man of faith.
Being unfamiliar with the
theology of Christianity, I felt the need to constantly gather basic
information in order to decipher the system.
“So, how is it again that Jesus atones for our sins?” I asked for the
fourth time in the last two days. I
decided to take my notes in Hebrew, in case one of my convention peers decided to
peep at them. “Jesus has taken upon himself all of our sins, and so to be
grateful for that. We will desire to be more Christ like ourselves,” I
translated them back to English in my thoughts.
The goal as I understood it, was to intrinsically create a desire to
constantly better yourself.
My mind could not keep up
with the pace of what I had perceived as old wives tales, and I started
desperately to look forward to dinner. Clint had informed me of the menu, and I
lusted for that meal to arrive. An abundance of baby back ribs, appropriately
hot and solid mashed potatoes this time, and crispy
fresh salad. Trying not to drool,
I allowed my mind to wander to the lusciousness that will arrive only later . This
thought alone allowed my body and mind to bear for only a few more hours what
had become a burdensome and tedious day of evangelism and fairy tales.
When the day had come to
an end and I finally crawled into bed, I was tired but with a full belly. I
pondered if I had it in me to complete my mission, or whether I should just
gather my belongings and quietly hop into my car and leave. Was the price I was
paying for these scrumptious meals higher than I had expected in the first
place? Was this really a “free”
meal? Only moments before my sleep
deprived eyes shut for the night, I came to the resolution that I must finish
what I had started.
August
1st – Day 3
On the morning of my third
day at bible camp, I started to feel numb. I was getting bored with their
futile attempts to brainwash me by drilling repetitive ideas into my mind.
“Accept Christ into your life, submit yourself to Christ, real control of your
life can come only through acceptance of Christ, bla bla bla.” The zeal with which I had started
this mission was diminished, it ceased to be an inner battle of good and evil. It even stopped being interesting and I just
wanted it to end. I checked my e-mail on
my phone every 3 minutes. Still nothing. My thoughts were more about the social
struggle that had started in Israel
only weeks ago, and less about my own redemption. Flipping through the Bible I
had been handed, I started reading the Book of Daniel, thinking about an album
by an Israeli artist who attempted to reinterpret the Holy Book. I pondered on how it was not the Word, the Holy
Gospel, or the Bible that makes it relevant to so many people’s lives, but
rather the modern interpretations. The
artist, Meir Ariel, created an astonishing interpretation of the Book of Daniel
making it relevant to modern society and to my life. Allan, the Pastor
attempted similarly to preach to us on how Psalms 21:16 (or whatever random
verse he chose at that moment) was relevant to his followers. My Gonzo conclusions had started to take
shape. Using up-to-date methods, you can use anything as an analogy in order to
portray a message.
My wandering thoughts
returned to the latest Harry Potter movie I had just seen, and I started to
imagine myself using these methods to create a Harry Potter religion. “I’m sure that there are enough “verses” in
seven volumes of Harry Potter” I thought to myself “to be reinterpreted as messages of prophecy,
salvation and redemption.” I saw myself, for a moment, standing on a podium in
a great hall, with stained glass windows, and the image of Daniel Radcliff
waving his wand sculptured above me. “Would Everyone please open Deathly
Hallows chapter 34.” I would say to my followers, “What does Nagini, the snake,
represent in your lives? Who here has battled their inner Nagini, been tempted
by the forces of darkness? What allowed Harry to overcome his doubt in
himself?” I would call it “The Church of Harry Potter our Modern Day
Metaphorical Savior” and it would be my own little social experiment that would
lose control within a matter of months, and perhaps turn into a “real”
religion.
“Are you all stupid?”I
wanted to yell at the people beside me. My mind ceased wandering, and returned
to the people in my vicinity. I resented them more as I understood more, and
turned angrier as I learned to accept the fundamental difference between
us. I regard my faith in myself as a
strength, and they regard it as a weakness.
“ Would you mind if I
prayed for you so that God will bring hard times on you, and you fall down on
your knees, begging to accept Jesus Christ as your true savior?,” Drew asked me
at the lunch table while we were chowing down on succulent steak and French
fries (which I had come to accept as a standard meal by now). I looked at Drew straight in the eye, with
all the arrogance, pride and contempt I could find in a single glance and
replied solemnly “You’re more than welcome to”. At that moment, at our last
supper, I decided to reveal for the first time a little more of my unrevealed
irreverence towards their version of Christianity. “I take my own future into
my own hands, and my good deeds are mine, and mine only. I am not fallen or
sinful and why should I waste my time on thoughts of after life, when people
here and now in this life, need my attention, help and
interest.” My blasphemous rant was cut short by Clint, “But what
do you have to lose?” he asked as the conversation slowly evolved into an
interrogation. I started to enjoy myself, feeling awakened from my mind’s
earlier numbness. “If you’re doing good deeds anyway, why not accept Christ
into your life, and then if there is eternity you won’t burn in hell. But if you’re wrong and there is a God, and
you don’t accept him into your life, aren’t you scared of burning in hell for
all eternity? That’s quite a price to pay.”
It sounded so rational, so solemn in its core belief, what do I have to
lose? It was in that instant, that I
felt like leaping onto the table, painted in blue and reenacting Mel Gibson in the
movie “Braveheart.” I pictured myself standing on top of a grassy, lush hill
while being shot by gleaming arrows and roaring at the top of my lungs “FREEEDOOOM!”-all
I have to lose is my freedom and the sovereignty over my life. That’s not too big a price to pay, is it? But I just smiled politely, reminding myself
of my reporter decree , and said, “I’m just not ready to
let go of that yet.”
As I left their property,
feeling relieved that I had accomplished what I had set out to do, I thanked my
hosts sincerely for their hospitality. As I got into my car to start driving
into Rocky Mt. National Park
Singing quietly to myself
“We shall overcome…,” changing it after a couple of verses to “I have overcame”
since I was alone, I turned on my I-pod and played Meir Ariel, and listened to
the only interpretation of the Bible I actually appreciated.
It turned out that the
meals were free.
I smiled.
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