Marjoe Gortner is a dropout evangelical. You know that kid in Bible class who knew all the answers, but when he was an adult was a deeply committed nothingist? Marjoe may sort of be that person. Raised a charismatic pentacostal, a preacher by the age of 4 (and abused along the way), Marjoe epically threw off the shackles of Christian business-ism in Samson like fashion.
Marjoe was the subject of an academy award winning documentary of the same name where he went around doing revival tours because he was short on cash. He brought a documentary film crew along with him because they would film his sermons, interactions with the faithful, and poignant one on one confessions. The catch was that he never believed a word of the faith part. He was in it for the money. On camera, he had a certain believability that probably would have fooled me as much as you. He wanted to show the world that you didn’t need church to have a spiritual experience. By association, Marjoe's film tried to teach the world that this new Christian movement was really just a bunch of hucksters and thieves, and he knew how to con as good as any other.
By today’s standards, the film lets me down and energizes me in equal measures. I am glued to the screen by Marjoe who appears to be a gifted vocalist for the pentacostal choir. His stage presence is catchy, like that punk rock band you saw once at a small venue in high school and haven’t seen or heard from since. Some of his sermons also had a fair amount of theological depth that seminarians today often convolute to the faithful.
The let down of the film is in its fascination of Marjoe and the Christian movement at the time. The cameras just roll while he preaches and we observe. It’s the same shtick ad nauseum for much of the film. It ultimately unbalances the person of Marjoe against the myth of Marjoe. After thinking about it more today, I have come to realize that contextually the filmmakers wondered who those crazy Christians were. What were they saying? What is the hippie Jesus people movement? What exactly was happening under those tents where alternate substances weren’t used to cause vibrating humans who talk in jello speech? Contextually and historically the film is curious, but today it comes across as unfocused and repetitive.
Marjoe remains a constantly interesting figure to me because of the one on one conversation’s where his voice does not fluctuate in volume or directedness. He somberly talks of being raised by an abusive Mom and Dad whose love was dependent upon his ability to memorize a script. Instead of being able to play outside with other kids, he had to stay in and memorize Bible verses and sermon cues. Think The Jackson 5, but for preachers. In the film he shares a few brief tricks of the trade to help fill up a minister’s pocket. All the while, I am endlessly fascinated.
I feel connected to Marjoe for reasons I can only try and explain. I grew up in a Christian home where church attendance was a regular part of the week, like school or Tuesday taco night. I led worship and passionately led others in singing the songs. I started and led a Bible study on my Jr. High campus and led others to Christ before I could shave. I feel like in many ways, I know him. He and I would have sat next to one another on stage while being broadcast on KWVE before the legions of Calvary-ites. He would have probably done a good “performance” for the crowd and wooed many to Christ, so long as the money (or more specifically - love from his parents) kept coming in.
Still, in many ways I have no idea who the man is. My parents never abused me or made me stay home from playing with friends to memorize Bible verses. I asked of my own accord to lead worship because it was always fun to play music with friends, especially when such obvious, droning, “4 chords with a key change” songs were easy to teach to this 12 year old rock star in the making. Plus, I do love Jesus, which helps. Still, I knew what Marjoe looked like in my youth group – he was the restricted, socially awkward, bug eyed Bible smasher on Balboa island. I feel like I knew that serial youth groupie, but never had any idea who they really were.
So, yeah I have a famous person I would go out of my way to meet. A student on my Residence Life staff unknowingly met this person. While serving drinks as a bartender at a cocktail party as part of a routine catering service, this famous person said to him, “I bet you’re the guy who forgets to put on his condom, aren’t you?” I would have babbled something about Fellini and then drooled a little bit on my shirt. Then, I would have posted on a message board at imdb.com about how I met Martin Scorsese and he was a really cool guy who likes to talk about condoms.
Today though, I add that I want to meet Marjoe. It’s a crazy idea to me in some respects because I have no idea what I would say. I mean, consider his company – I really wanted to meet Bjork, a Go-Bot, and Martin Scorsese (still true to that one). I don’t have a pre-packaged message for him. I wouldn’t try and share the gospel with a guy who used to sell it like a can of Coca Cola. I think I’d just shake nervously a little bit, and then talk to him. He is probably amongst the most wounded of individuals out there. He was abused, a faker, and later a semi failed actor with roles in such classics as "American Ninja 3." But I still would want to be in his company and ask him about what his fascinating life was like. I’d want to do a sort of follow up to the films many gaps.
I typically am triggered when I see overprotective parents who uses Christianity as a punishment to their children. It scares me. I see someone being abused. I don't hear Jesus invitation to "Let the little children come to me." When your child’s love and relationship with you is dependent upon their ability to quote the Bible, sing a song, attend church (etc), then the child is your little wooden toy. They don’t exist to develop into who God made them to be, they exist to be a feather in your cap. I don’t know what it's like to be a parent – to worry about my son or daughter when they go out at night. Who are they with? What are they doing? Are they safe? But I do know what its like to be a son. Marjoe never really did. Maybe if I see him someday, I’ll buy him a juice box and teach him how to kick a soccer ball. It’d probably be more interesting than talking about condoms.
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