William Kienzle - Masquerade

“The answer, sister,” Krieg explained, “has something to do with the television ministry. Anyone here know how many people watch the Gospel of the Good News bein’ preached over the Praise God Network?”

The heads that shook in negative response belonged to Marygrove students; actually none in the audience knew.

“On an average program,” Krieg declared, “approximately sixty million souls!”

There was a shared gasp.

“Now, sisters and brothers,” Krieg said, “all these millions of souls starvin’ for the message of hope and salvation don’t even know they’re hungry! Praise God! Hungry for the Lord! Praise God!

“But they’re not findin’ Him in church. You take your average parish church-or synagogue, for that matter-of a Sunday or a Saturday. Attendance goin’ down all the time. Then you take the Praise God Tabernacle. Climbin’, everything’s climbin’. I’m not just talkin’ the souls occupyin’ the pews of the Tabernacle. I’m talkin’ viewers. Besides the sixty million or so. Our message is broadcast in 143 countries.”

There was a quiet but definite audience reaction.

“Now I ask you, brothers and sisters, what’s the difference? Why are we gainin’ while they’re losin’?” He paused to let the implications of the question sink in. Then he answered it himself. “Pizzazz!” Another pause. “That’s right, brothers and sisters: pizzazz!”

His audience clearly was at sea.

“Lemmee give you an example. ’Member Fulton Sheen?” Krieg looked around, smiling benevolently. “Nah, you’re too young to remember him. .”

The majority, who did recall the popular radio and television prelate, appreciated the gift of years.

Krieg proceeded. “Fulton Sheen-monsignor, bishop-drew a good crowd. But I think it’s clear he started with a premise, a hypothesis, an assumption. I think it’s clear he started with the assumption that people weren’t gonna watch him on TV, weren’t gonna turn to his channel instead of watchin’ Uncle Miltie just because he was a bishop. He had to give ’em somethin’ extra.

“That voice! Could mesmerize you. But there was more. That getup! Full cassock, piping and all those buttons, cummerbund; shoulder cape; big cross on a gold chain. All that went with that magical voice. And extra added attraction: an ‘angel’ to erase his blackboard. . ’member?” Krieg laughed and the audience laughed with him.

“Well, now,” Krieg continued, “that’s just about the same thinkin’ we did in the Praise God Tabernacle. We started out by askin’ some questions. Like: Are people gonna turn us on instead of dialin’ in Bill Cosby, ‘60 Minutes,’ or NFL Football because they’d rather see a religion show?” He continued without pausing for any sort of response. “’Course not. So we built us a temple the likes of which you ain’t gonna find anywhere else. People see the Praise God Tabernacle, takes their breath away.

“Or, suppose we’re gonna have a Crusade for Jesus-on the road, in a manner of speaking. Biggest stadium we can find. Beat the drums for weeks in advance. Make sure the house is full. That catch the eye of the viewer? Well, I should say!

“Then, how ’bout if we give ’em the best in country-western music? How ’bout we give ’em the biggest stars in Hollywood to entertain and give witness as well? How ’bout if we have experts to stage and pace all this? We’re givin’ ’em a show they want to see. And tucked in there kind of subtle-like is. . religion. The Good News Gospel of the Lord, Praise God!”

“Praise God!” This time enthusiastically from the audience.

Koesler marveled at the ease with which Krieg could segue from preacher to teacher to apologist. There was no arguing the guy had a talent.

When dispassion returned, the dark-haired woman who had started all this said forcefully, “Reverend, the books. .?” She was smiling, seemingly amused at his performance.

“The books; yes, indeed, the books.” Krieg, perceiving he’d won over the crowd, could afford to be amiable. “See, we at P.G. Press operate with an assumption. Just like Ol’ Fulton Sheen assumed people weren’t gonna tune him in just ’cause he was a bishop; just like our broadcast ministry assumes people aren’t gonna tune us in ’cause they’re in love with religious programming. Well, sister, this is it: We at P.G Press start with the assumption that religion is dull.”

He paused for evident dramatic effect. Then, slowly, as if carving the words in stone, “R-E-L–I-G-I-O-N I-S D-U-L–L.”

That was it, indeed, thought Koesler. He’d been very carefully following the structured logic of Klaus Krieg. This is what the preacher had been building toward from the beginning. As far as Krieg was concerned, religion was dull. That explained Krieg’s approach to evangelization-and everything flowed from that approach.

“You got a hard time with that,” Krieg continued, “you just go in one of those religious bookstores. The kind that sells devotional stuff, books about the saints and the like. You’re gonna see a store that don’t sell many books. And you’re gonna be lookin’ at writers who don’t make much money.

“P.G. books are religious enough with priests and nuns and monks and rabbis and bishops and here and there a pope. We simply ask people who write for us to. . add a little somethin’. Somethin’ that’ll spice it up, attract readers. If that turns out to be a certain measure of sex or violence, well, so be it. Holy pizzazz! It’s for the Lord. Praise God!”

This time, it was an unanswered doxology. Koesler wondered if Krieg had lost the crowd.

The evangelist may have harbored the same doubt, for he quickly added, “But I sense I have not been as clear as I might have been. When I say religion is dull and that it needs punchin’ up, I’m talkin’ ’bout the public at large. The souls we want to touch. Dear Lord, I’m not talkin’ ’bout us. Why, I would not for a moment insult you by sayin’ religion is dull for you or me. We don’t have that problem. They do.

“Now, there’s a place for the pious, devotional book-religion without a single frill. But that place is on a dusty shelf, where it’s gonna sit from now until the comin’ of the Kingdom.

“You can write a book that’s gonna sell and reach all those souls who don’t even know they’re hungry. You can do that if you’re willin’ to follow the steps I’m gonna give you during this week. Steps that will help you sow the good word in an attractive package. Your book will feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, accomplish all this good whilst you earn yourself a pretty penny. And all for the Lord. Praise God!”

“Praise God!” the audience responded more confidently.

I’ll be darned, thought Koesler, he got them back.

The dark-haired woman stood.

Troublemaking broad, thought Krieg.

“How about the other panelists?” she asked. “ Their books are not gathering dust on a shelf.” Her gaze turned to the others. “Maybe one of you would speak to this question. What about it? Is religion dull? Do you have to drag in sex and violence to sell books with a religious setting?”

Krieg shrugged, and with an alert and defiant look, took his seat.

Koesler studied the others on the panel. Benbow and Marie stared at the tabletop as if they were children hoping the teacher would not call on them. Augustine studied the ceiling as if seriously weighing Krieg’s hypothesis. Winer seemed to be trying to restrain anger. Finally it was the rabbi who literally rose to the challenge.

“If my colleagues have no objection,” Winer opened, glancing at the other writers on the dais, “I should like to comment on a couple of issues raised by Mr. Krieg.”