Revival - Michael James

MEMOIRE OF A 1956 REVIVAL

Back in the time before drugs and hippies and gangs, while I was still an undergraduate, a person could go down to Oakland alone for an evening’s honest entertainment without fear of being mutilated and robbed. Thither I was tempted by news of a notorious, old-fashioned revival coming to town.

A crowd was gathering on the Oakland waterfront between the railroad tracks and the Alameda estuary where a circus tent had been erected behind a portable picket fence. Signs on the outside of the fence advertised “REVIVAL” in large, red letters. People in the crowd were mostly black, hatless, quiet, and middle-aged. A few caucasians appeared to be waiting with the others, and some of them wore heavy, hooded duffle coats against the cold of the evening. It was winter time and the year was 1956. Bulky, white guards stood on either side of the closed entrance to the tent holding obviously large flashlights in two hands as if they were batons. They appeared to be waiting for a signal to start admitting the crowd. Eventually it came and the guards opened the fence and stood aside to allow the people entrance to the tent. They appeared to be inspecting them as they passed. Not one was detained.

When the wooden seats in the tent were occupied, the entry flap was closed and the guards posted. Similar-looking young white men, suited, tied, the very picture of brawny angels, roamed the aisles looking slightly formidable. Few took any notice of them; all eyes were on the podium around which the arc of seats was placed. Two middle-aged white men and one black man were seated  there. They appeared to be quite composed, though the cherubic, Rubenesque man next to the microphone, was wearing a collar that was obviously too tight, as he several times ran a finger under it as if to loosen it. When he stood up, the crowd hushed expectantly. Loud speakers around the edge of the tent carried his voice distinctly.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our seventh annual holy revival meeting in Oakland, California! I’m sure you’ll find your visit here inspirational and blest by the holy love of God . I’m the Reverend Andrew Johnson, and these gentlemen are my colleagues the Reverend E. Dewey Smith and the Reverend Jasper Williams of the Weary Travelers Rest congregation in Sentinel, Alabama. They are going to help me tonight bring the Holy Ghost to each and every one of you in need of personal cleansing. Are you ready to help me, brothers?”

“Halleluja, yes,” they both yell loudly.

“God bless you both! Now let’s get on with God’s holy work!”

“You know how Jesus told Peter on the night he was betrayed by that snake, Judas, that he, Peter, would deny Jesus thrice before cock crow. And what did Peter say? Oh no, not me Lord! I’m in this for the long haul. But what did he do? Did he give in to the intimidation of the Sanhedrin and deny knowing Jesus when the authorities questioned him?”

Crowd: “Yes.”

“I can’t hear you!”

Crowd yelling, “Yes, yes! Peter was weak and knuckled under.”

“And what would you all do if you were called to bear witness to your God? Would you cave in to your desires and fears? Or would you give all you’ve got to Him who gave you all?”

“We’d give; we’d give all.”

“Good! Now you remember the feeding of the five thousand, when Jesus had only five loaves and two small fishes? Yet after giving thanks to His Father, he divided the bread and fish and fed the assembled multitude. He fed all those people! Where do you think all that food came from? You think it came out of thin air?”

“It came from Jesus!” someone in the crowd yells.

“You’re so right it came from Jesus! It was his life he was giving to the people, his spiritual body became their food. He gave of himself that all might eat and have everlasting life. Now when Jesus asks you to give a little, how do you respond? Do you give all as He did, or do you hold back, thinking to yourselves, He won’t miss my contribution! He’s got so many, many people giving to Him! Well, what if we all thought that? Would there be enough to finance His ministry?”

“We give! We give!” came the response. 

The Reverend Johnson took off his jacket, warming to his work, running his index finger under his collar as he laid the coat on the podium.

“Many of you came here tonight to bring Jesus into your hearts. But some of you have told me of your concerns that there may not be enough room for Him in your hearts, that you hoped I could clean out some of the trash you are holding, or even some bad feelings or anger, frustration, guilt and yes, sin. Well, you know I can’t do that. Only He can, but He can only do it if you ask Him, if you pray to Him to cleanse you so He can move in, come to live with you like a relative who needs a roof over his head. Do you want to do that? Do you really want Jesus to come into your heart and make it his house?”

“Yes, Jesus come, come to me!”

“Jesus can’t hear you!”

Louder: “Oh Lord, come into thine own. Halleluja, Lord Jesus! I’m here waiting for you!”

“I think he must have heard that one! So take your turn and come up to the podium. We’ll clean out your heart to make room for Jesus. And while we’re doing that, the ushers will pass baskets around for you to show your love of Jesus by making whatever contribution you can afford. Come now, let ushers lead you up to the front and these gentlemen and I will cast out those nasty devils from your hearts. While we work, our organist will play hymns for you to sing.”

“Oh God our help in ages past, our hope for years to come....” etc.

While the hymn is being sung a slender forty-something black woman is led to the small stage by an usher and placed in front of the Reverend Johnson. He says a prayer over her while the usher goes behind, places his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides, and gives her a clumsy imitation of the Heimlich Maneuver. She coughs and gasps for air as the young man releases her, while the preacher yells out loud,

“There comes the first one, nasty red devil! Has she any more?” the woman shakes her head and holds her stomach, moaning. The preacher calls out , “Glory be to God, then. May Christ live within in you!” And the usher leads her off stage, leaning on his arm.

The next victim is a large black woman who approaches the stage singing the hymn then being played. The speaker holds the mike near her mouth as he helps her up the steps, and the audience can hear her moaning and crying, “Cleanse me of my sins, oh Lord and make me worthy of you. Take me for your own, dear Jesus.” Two ushers move up on either side of the woman, who soon seems to be going into some sort of convulsions. They hold her up as the speaker brings the mike to her, so all can hear. The usher with his back to the audience appears to punch the woman in the stomach, for she staggers, then hunches over and begins to retch while both ushers do their best to hold her up.

“Here comes the first one!” says the preacher. “Glory be to God! Come out Satan! Leave this poor soul to Jesus. Help her, Jesus. Cleanse thy handmaiden of her sins! She is thine, oh Lord!”  She staggers and retches again as the ushers hold her up. Johnson backs away from her calling loudly into the mike: “Out you vile Satan! Forsake this poor woman! Get you back to hell! Now sweet Jesus, come into this thy handmaiden! Cleanse her of all ills!” He releases the woman whom the ushers half carry down the steps and to her seat.

The other two “reverends” join in and the fun goes on uninterrupted for an hour or more while large Fried Chicken paper tubs are being circulated amongst the seats by the ushers for contributions. The exorcists pause in their work long enough to inspect the paper tubs and register their disappointment at what they see in them. Johnson goes up to the mike and gives his spiel about giving back to Jesus some of what he gave to us. Then he sends out the buckets again for another round of donations. The ushers must work while the reverends rest.

   

The ushers, duly admonished, pass the tubs around again until they’re nearly full. The “reverends” meanwhile, split up and go to run little side shows in adjoining alcoves where each performs  exorcisms . There’s a young white woman being addressed by the Reverend Jasper Williams from Alabama. She is in a fine state, very disturbed and shedding outer garments while Williams exhorts her to let go of her troubles, to give them all to Jesus who has ‘taken on the sins of the whole world.’  

 

She is on the floor, which is covered with wood shavings, back arched, arms akimbo, crying hysterically. Williams stands between her feet praying aloud, commanding the devils to forsake her, calling on Jesus to fill her with the Holy Ghost. She thrusts her pelvis upwards, gnashes her teeth, and emits great moans. The exorcist redoubles his efforts and the scene culminates with the woman screaming, “Save me, Jesus!” 

Williams responds by calling out, “He has saved you girl! Come to Jesus!” and he helps her  to her feet where she totters then leans on him.

My view of this scene is blocked by the trousers of a burly usher who demands to know if I am praying, for I’m watching the action from behind hands in which my face is buried. 

“You praying, brother?”

“Yessir! I’m praying for that poor lady what had the Devil pulled out of her.”

“That’s good! Keep praying, then!” And the trousers vanish. I sit up and look around. People are leaving. I can merge into the the exodus without being singled out for special attention.

                                            ***

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