THE BRIDE OF CHRIST REVISITED

"THE BRIDE OF CHRIST REVISITED"

In the summer of 1988 the controversial movie “The Last Temptation of Christ” played in theaters across the country. By the evening of the first day, the line of protesting Christians at Chicago's Biograph Theater had reached a thousand strong. At curbside, the police had cordoned off a two-lane corral to restrict the flow of Christians, who they deemed to be violating the speed limit of light. At the sight of this I was moved to throw in my lot with the Chosen Ones, jumping into the fray with my crucifix-shaped-like-an-ordinary-camera.

On the opposite side of the police line dozens of trendy theater goers inched their combined embarassment to the box office, with an occasional familiar face rising above the din to greet me. As I bent to acknowledge each, a question would appear on their face, “My God, Burkhart… What are you doing mulling around in there with all those Christians?”

And sure enough, as soon as I would step back into the flock, one of the Christians would chasten me, “My God, Brother… What in the world are you doing over there cavorting with those heathen?”

At one point I crossed over the line to get a better look at these so-called Christians with whom I had become identified. Immediately I was turned around by the police and marched back into the corral: “You'll have to stay within the confines of your assigned area, sir.” “But officer... I am not of this world” I stammered to no avail as I was sucked back into the throng.

It was another two days before I stepped back into the pedestrian line, finally headed in to see the movie everybody was talking about. Either the officer didn't remember me as the Christian he'd rerouted two days earlier, or else the policy about Christians had been revised. Perhaps with good reason: by the end of the day the Christians were so diminished that the line attending the movie was now the longer and noisier of the two. In fact, another couple of days would find but a handful of zealots remaining.

I remember the last sad day of protest, with the rains falling heavily from heaven, one lone nut seeking refuge under the Biograph's marquee, his placard resting wearily at half-mast proclaiming: “Oh God of Heaven… Rain Down Fire & Brimstone on the Biograph Theater… Amen.”

BURKHART STUDIOS

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