Given the horrific events of the past four years, e.g. the KKK rally in Virginia, the separation and caging of refugee children from their families seeking asylum in our nation, to the failed rebellion we witnessed at our nation’s capitol on January 6th, I was reminded of a day back in the summer of 1974 in which I saw two movies in the same day, both revealing the face of evil to me.
As a young man, the only time that I would attend a movie was always in the company of Ruth. However, there was one time, and I only presume that Ruth was working a relief shift as a nurse at St Joseph’s Hospital, that I attended two movies in the same day. The Roseville Theater was showing two movies, namely, 1) The Exorcist, and 2) Blazing Saddles. Knowing that Ruth would not necessarily be open to attending either one, I decided to take that afternoon and evening in seeing the two films.
As I have mentioned previously in this blog, in Second Grade, Sister Angeline, a School Sister of Notre Dame, was intent in getting us kids to heaven one way or another. If we were not willingly wanting to go to heaven, she was going to scare us into heaven. To influence our choice, she filled us with all sorts of stories about the agony, torment and flames of Hell, demonic possession, and demons. Needless to say, a second grader is not going to forget any of that, and, those stories remain a part of my consciousness to this very day. She set the theme of the year by stating to my class of thirty children on the beginning day of school, that ten of us were going to go to Hell. Of course, we all knew whom the unfortunate ten would be.
I state all of this to give the frame of mind I was in the day I saw those two movies. I decided to see The Exorcist in the afternoon, take a break, and see Blazing Saddles in the evening. While The Exorcist definitely stirred up those frightening tales told long ago by the well-intentioned nun in second grade, what I discovered that amidst the belly laughs evoked by the Mel Brooks movie, it was his movie that revealed an evil greater than that which was portrayed in The Exorcist. Using comedy, Mel Brooks exposed the evil underbelly of the United States for all to see. In retrospect, I find what Mel did brilliant and at the same time devious in holding up a mirror revealing to people the racism to which they were either blind in their own lives, or tried to hide from society.
What follows here is a poem reflecting on the theme of evil I discovered that summer day in which I saw evil in two films, both equally explicit, but one more revelatory about the evil in the United States. The “you” is a reference to Ruth. This poem is part of a collection of poems dedicated to Ruth entitled appropriately, The Book of Ruth.
THE DEVIL AND MEL BROOKS
The span of time a journey makes
can last days or just a few hours.
My journey, one day, precisely,
an afternoon and an evening,
one I had to make alone, without
you. Most crippling of all human
frailty is that of fear, paralyzing
the human heart, striking blindly
without reason or understanding,
arising within the human spirit
a cruel, at times, heartless spirit.
This one day’s journey is
is marked in the present, but
began in the second grade,
well-meaning her intent,
stories for young minds,
woven by the old nun to
scare us into heaven.
Hell fire, demons galore,
demonic possession, the
tools in her spiritual chest,
to save our young souls
from eternal damnation;
tales placed so deep in our
subconscious, their roots
never eradicated by time,
lay dormant waiting.
Long steeped in fear and
ignorance, our nation
no different than I, though
possessed by another
spiritual force as evil.
Racist roots sunk so deep,
that no amount of Civil Rights
passed by law could attack
the evil at the heart of
our nation. Evil, as ancient
as the dark heart of Evil
personified, is hard to extract,
lay camouflaged, awaiting
the moment to strike.
Like Dante’s poetic journey
of redemption, passing through
the Inferno, Purgatorio, and
Paradiso, a descent, I, too,
must make, no Virgil as my
guide, alas. Passing through
the double doors of the
theater, no sign posted
saying, “Abandon Hope,
Ye Who Enter Here,” I take
my seat in the darkened
auditorium, this not the
occasion for Red Hots and
Milk Duds. The dark grows
even darker as “Tubular
Bells” signals the beginning
of the story, a young girl’s
play with a Ouija Board
opening the door of her
soul to an Evil sworn
to tear apart her spirit
and the spirits of all
whom she loves.
One priest battered in body,
the other, battered in faith,
encounter the epitome
of Evil malignant, no simple
haunting, no mere ghost.
The absence of light,
ironically glaring shows
how Evil inhabits dark
places and dark hearts,
the sound more horrific
than the visual, relentless
the hope of a mother
much stronger than those
empowered to exorcise,
self-sacrifice out of love,
the final tool used to uproot
and eradicate the Evil
from the girl. Climbing out
of the theater in the
manner of Dante, I reach
the lobby, the blessed
brightness of the sunshine
outside takes the edge off
the darkness of the film.
I pause to reflect prayerfully
at the concession stand,
what nourishment to take.
Guided to the Coca-cola
and buttered popcorn,
I walk through another set
of double doors only to be
met by Mel Brooks, my
guide and mentor for the
next journey. Fooled into
thinking that Purgatorio, be
far easier than the Inferno
through which I just had
walked, I was confronted
with an ancient Sin, one
that had broken my nation
asunder just a hundred years
earlier, a necropolis of Sin
that continued to swallow
alive the souls of so many people.
The Evil of racism,
a pandemic striking the
souls of white American
society crosses the screen
in images both meant to
amuse and to accuse.
The humor highlighting
all the more the façade
of respectability, the
racist’s shell game
playing the suckers,
drawing them into their
own sickness. Hucksters,
like the demons of Dante,
use the beans they eat
around the campfire to
trumpet their asses emitting
a substance just as putrid
and foul. Only relentless
goodwill and hope frees
the hearts of those manacled
to the pillar of racism.
I, seeing this comedic vision
examine whether my hands,
my feet are as manacled
as those portrayed in the film.
While bound by chains
not quite as thick and strong,
the chains are there, and
the manacles intact.
I rise and pass through the
doors back into the lobby,
the humor of the film
taking the edge off the
darkness that lay outside .
Confronting one’s fears
does not always defeat
but makes one aware of that
which is hidden inside.
True victory over Evil’s darkness
comes only with allying in trust
with the primal source of love,
the love that overwhelms
all darkness with light.
It will take more than
this Dantesque day’s cinematic
journey to defeat the fear
that is present within my life.
You, will play a big part
in the future triumph
of my spirit over darkness,
our God revealing in you,
so clearly that my eyes
may see, the source of love,
the center of God, who
conquers all darkness.
©2015. The Book Of Ruth, Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.
