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Images of Hosanna Hills: the cross at the fifty yard line of the high school football field, the fully lit Life of Jesus diorama, people in prayer waiting for the Messenger shuttle bus.
“Hosanna Hills almost guarantees no bad eulogies,” Carson narrates. “The idea is to have Christian people living and working together in a kind of all-hands, all-sharing way. Something usually found on communes.
"Only, as an unincorporated community with huge upfront costs but levies no taxes, it costs a lot of money to live here. And rich people tend not to want to form quilting circles. But that doesn't keep the idea from being very popular.”
We’re on scrabbly, yellow dirt hilltop over looking the tree and house stuffed community of Hosanna Hills. Carson, with jeans, a long sleeved shirt and sunglasses sits on a white rock that looks pretty uncomfortable, truth be told.
He says, “If you don't already know what I mean by evangelocalism ... .”
He turns to the development, contrasted by the barren desert hills surrounding it. “It's that. A newfangled flavor of American evangelism. Evangelism 2.0, if you will. Though if you look carefully, American history is full of places like this. Where likeminded people live together and preach to one another with safety and certainty.”
Cut to a table with magazines, books, DVDs, the word evangelocal on all. Carson narrates, “Until my mother moved here, I didn’t know that evangelocalism is kind of a hot topic, not only among evangelicals, but on the left, too. The secular left.
“And they all hit a central point: evangelocalism appropriates progressive impulses to buy local, trust your local craftsfolks, share in the costs of raising food, clothing and shelter in CSAs and other arrangements known elsewhere as dues or annual fees. To them, evangelocalism provides that satisfying veneer of commitment.”
Carson’s now walking down a sunny, Hosanna Hills sidewalk. It’s narrow, the color of sand, alongside a white gutter running dry and the freshly black asphalt roadbed. “I can’t really argue with that insight much. People who can afford to live in, say, Hosanna Hills don’t have to knit hats for a living, but they do so when the mood strikes. And then they put them in a box and take them to a store or supermarket for sale. That’s the new wrinkle in the old American evangelical communal inspiration: the Amana colonies meet Whole Foods.”
Shots of aisles and hat racks in a supermarket and other stores with signs saying, Pray and Buy Local! and Local Handcrafts Spread the Word of God, Too! And then little boxes of beads and bits of turquoise, scattered and left on a table somewhere in Dianne’s home.
“Even my mom tries her hand at jewelry, but not all that much.”
“But you have to admit,” Carson continues on the sidewalk, “that evangelocalism does pretty well. It succeeds because it gives evangelicals a wider berth than just a mega-church, even a franchised one. It gives them a town, the pride of community, where the rest of the secular world can’t interfere with your personal ministry. You don’t have to worry your florist is a closet pagan or homosexual or your kid’s teacher is a closet humanist. Or relativist. Or just a regular bumming sinner.”
More images of Hosanna Hills, kids playing soccer, neighbors waving at the camera in the parking lot, bake sales, the gated community entrance and lots of paperwork. “You’re also not worrying that other evangelicals might interfere with your ministry. Or stir things up into heresies because evangelocalism, like other gated communities is ruled with by-laws. Everyone signs a contract that says Jesus is your personal savior, that you are not a Muslim or Jew, that you are not homosexual. Or have a lousy credit report. And, most importantly, that you believe He will find you in the tumult of the apocalypse. Falter on any of these and you’re gone.”
Carson sits on the hillside lawn of Promontory Ministry. Behind him is the welcome sign for Promontory Ministry that reads, Jesus Saves You. Every day.
“What people who live here like the best is that two thousand years of argumentative Christian canon has been pressure cooked to diamond-strength theology, a single branded message: Jesus is your savior. That’s it. Everything else: work, money, success, grief, frustration, that’s all gravy. Even his teachings. Not really necessary. The apocrypha, the crazy Jesus-purists, cranky brimstoners like James Dobson and difficult movies like The Passion of the Christ, or even the Bible: all pesky intellectualism. They have bookstores here, but probably because that’s where they sell coffee.
“The win for evangelocalism is its ‘we all agree Jesus is tops so don’t bother me’ anti-academicism. I know that sounds harsh and my mother will vehemently disagree. But I asked her if I could join her in a bible reading class, thinking there had to be a lot available. And she said there weren’t any. No one went because no one did the reading. Bible meetings, apparently, are not where it's happening in places like Hosanna Hills.
“What they love is to put on talent shows.”
Carson narrates: “In a way I’m glad my mother found a place like Hosanna Hills, although it does take some recalibration to see her as a Christian. Before this, I mostly knew her as a modern upper middle class mother and housewife. Like my father – interested in Hollywood gossip, running her business and drinking martinis.
“Now, she has a place to belong to and is, I think, happy. Which makes me happy. It even seems like quibbling when I think how much money she spends just to ensure her eulogy won’t be a downer.”
The Rev. Dr. Mike Battle, in handsome flannel business suit and "Happy Jesus' Birthday" tie during Christmas services at the Ministry, preaching to his congregation in very comfortable looking stadium seats with cup holders. He prowls the proscenium, wireless mic in hand.
“Jesus, I told him – and remember, I’m in the DMV – a godless place if there ever was one [great laughter] – I tell that young man behind the counter, Jesus never needed to take an eye test. He can see for miles and miles and miles and he sees you and me right now. He sees everything. [He looks up at the cross behind him] Don’t you, Sir? Yes, you do. And thank you. Thank you for helping me see those tiny little letters on the DMV eye test. I owe you one.”
[turning back to tickled audience] “And you owe him one too, don’t you? Who’s going to deny that we all owe Jesus one? Maybe more than one? Maybe something for real? Like your heart. The young people call that giving ‘props.’ You’ve heard them use that. Your sons and daughters and grandkids. ‘Props.’ Well, I give props to Jesus. Props to Jesus! [woot-woots and applause] That’s right. Woo-hoo! Props to Jesus!”[later] “So when I say, did you get the memo? Let me tell you what that memo says. [lifting a piece of paper, adjusting glasses, reading] The Christmas memo, dated December 25th, signed by Jesus Our Lord and Savior. Drafted in three parts. And it sounds a lot like what the angel said to the shepherds. A long time ago.
“One – Celebration. There’s an invasion underway. I am coming down to earth and nothing will ever be the same again. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I bring you news of hope and joy. You all have heard that, right? Well it’s time to celebrate that. He's already come once. This memo says, 'Be ready.'
“Two – Salvation. He whomsoever believeth in me will be my friend tonight and every night and will sitteth with me in heaven on the right handed side of God. Need I say more? I didn’t think so.
“Three – Community. Christmas is a time of coming together, just like we’re doing now. All of us. Give yourselves a hand, for coming out on this night. Go on [lots of sustained applause]. There may be sadness and there may be heartache, out there and in here. We’re only human. But today, none of that matters, because Jesus is here and so are you.
“So say hello to that person you’re sitting behind. Go ahead, they won’t bite. [squeaky sounds of people turning in their leather seats, getting up and saying hello]. You may not agree with them. You may not even like them. But Jesus wants you to love them. Goodwill towards men. And women. And children. And dogs and cats and birds and fish and hamsters. Merry Christmas, everyone! Merry Christmas!”
In Mike Battle’s executive-styled office. His broad desk is in the background, the room’s power spot. He sits in a comfortable arm chair, in his purple shirt and white collar. A fabulous hilltop view of a beautiful sunny day in Hosanna Hills stretches behind him.
“I’ve thought long and hard on what you’re asking,” Mike Battle says. “In the best, general sense, Christmas is a time of encouragement. At the end of the year, you may have plenty to look back upon, and plenty to look forward to. That’s an indispensable mission of Christmas.
“The reindeer – and you didn’t mention the Santa parade, but you could have. Were you here for that?"
"We were sorry to miss it," Carson says off camera.
"I am too, son. A whole lot of heart and love went into that. And that's the important thing. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Truth be told, at first, that took a lot of soul searching for a preacherly heart like mine. There was no argument, no opposition on the board of governors. But when you’re a shepherd, in a leadership position like mine, you have to be remarkably sensitive to the swells of emotion in your flock. In my case, 19,316 people.
“We decided that the Santa parade and the reindeer are for the children. In all of us. You can’t just say – and I know a lot of ministries that do – that reindeer and Santa are blasphemous. I'm sorry. That just doesn’t fly. And God understands that. And you have to think Jesus probably kinda likes it, too. A lot.
“Christmas is the day Jesus was born. You just have to celebrate that. It has to be the greatest day of the year and the greatest day of your life. You can’t wish Him happy birthday enough, in thanks and praise. And if everyone celebrates that, then wonderful. That’s better than I or any other poor wretch of a preacher could hope for. It’s only a good thing that Jews, bless their souls, celebrate it. And Asians, and Indians, and Africans. The entire world celebrates the birth of Jesus, because Jesus loves the world, and the world loves him back.”
Slow fade to black on Mike Battle’s buoyant smile.
/continued
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Next: Solstice festivities with Carson's sister, Shannon
"The Holly King" © CMMartin 2011
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