Benny Hinn's Miracle Crusade
A review of Benny Hinn's Miracle Crusade at General Motors Place in Vancouver, B.C. on 12 August 2005.
"I promise that Jesus will change my life before I leave here tonight," I said to the elderly Romanian woman beside me. We clasped hands warmly for a moment, then I exchanged the statement with other smiling strangers nearby.
Twelve thousand other people in General Motors place were exchanging identical vows with their neighbors, at the command of Minister Benny Hinn, a TV evangelist known for his trademark white suit.
Admission to the Miracle Crusade at the General Motors Stadium was free, so I managed to recruit a few friends to join me for the event. At the stadium entrance, surrounded by security agents, was a table full of confiscated water bottles that could be replaced inside for a hefty price at the concession stands. My two companions had packed beverages, so we left the queue to sit on a planter ledge while they polished off their drinks. A guy wearing fashionable sunglasses walked by with a sign saying that Benny Hinn exploited the needy.
I commanded him hither.
He handed me a pamphlet accusing Minister Hinn of being a Fake Healer, a False Prophet, an Unfaithful Steward, and a False Teacher. It backed up these accusations with evidence from the bible, a book full of angels and talking serpents.
When my cohorts had finished their drinks, we went into the stadium. Concession stands abstained from serving alcohol during the event, but otherwise all the mass-marketing culture of GM Place remained: pictures of hockey players and booze ads sat beside Benny Hinn banners touting "The Power of Blood". Another banner advertised Hinn's book "The Heavenlies", outlining the five divisions of angels in the Lord's army.
We went into the stadium proper. The usher was peeved when I asked her if we could go onto the main floor. She showed us to some seats near the floor while making it very clear that the floor was only for the handicapped and disabled.
Indeed, as soon as we took our seats I began rummaging through the sight of wrecked humanity populating the coveted center-seating area. Crutches, wheelchairs, IV tubes, and even one motionless old ghost on a gurney attended by two medics. Scanning the sea of physical impairment, in concert with the zealous security staff at each floor station impeding our access, this is where I first came to appreciate Mr. Hinn's Crusade.
Just like the extremely pierced are bestowed an aura of respect at a punk show, or the cloaked, staff-wielding wizard at a Renaissance Fair is not laughed at as he would be hitchhiking just one mile beyond the middle-ages atmosphere, here at the Benny Hinn Miracle Crusade the crippled and hopeless were at the top of the hierarchy, in the center of the show, with the best seats in the house, and commanding respect and privilege. Daily forced to the edges of society, shunned by children, and compensated only by a handful of parking spaces at the grocery store, these people, in Benny Hinn's world, were put on a figurative pedestal. Watching the steady stream of hunchbacks and mutants filter onto the floor, I secretly wished that for the moment I had no legs.
The old Romanian woman arrived, smelling like boiled potatoes, and snatched up the vacant seat beside me. We quickly fell into conversation. She told me that there were too many problems with war and different people talking about different gods. "Just one God," she barked, poking out one bony finger. She told me the trouble was that people and the governments want too much, and that all we need to do is put the food on the table for anyone who needs to eat. And that the lesbians and gays and people with tattoos have made a disaster.
| "When an elderly Christian woman demands of a younger man that he'd better stop smoking right now, she's really telling him to stop raping people's daughters in the alley." |
When I came back to my seat after a cigarette outside, she told me smoking was of the devil and wagged her finger at me. This is exactly the kind of small vice an elderly Christian woman delights in frowning upon, as she is certain that any younger man she is addressing has within the last week had sex with a hooker's mouth. When an elderly Christian woman demands of a younger man that he'd better stop smoking right now, she's really telling him to stop raping people's daughters in the alley. However, she doesn't really expect him to change, and after she's said her piece, she still wants to chat, clasp hands, and feel comfortable touching his leg whenever trying to get his attention. I noticed that the wily old bat had managed to sneak in her own bottle of water.
After a few hours of waiting, the lights dimmed, the choir sang, and then an enthusiastic young preacher with the air of a frat boy took the stage. He told us that God had his hand on General Motors Place tonight. He said it didn't matter if there were 12,000 people here, because he'd rather worship with 5 people of Christ than 5,000 deadbeats. At this 12,000 people erupted "Amen". He said that even though the Ministry did 40 Revivals a year, each one was special. Then he instructed the ushers to pass out envelopes that asked for credit card information and had checkboxes ranging from $250 to $10,000. "This is no pressure," said the frat preacher, "but if you want to tuck a love gift in there, we'd appreciate it."
The choir sang a rousing "I Am a Friend of God" (to which everyone in the stadium knew the words except me and my two deadbeat friends) before Benny Hinn strolled on stage. A Korean woman behind us burst into tears. Others were screaming. Benny Hinn, in his pristine white suit, started singing. In a silky voice he sang about surrendering, making promises, and showing compassion.
I suddenly understood that the protestor with the fashionable sunglasses outside didn't have a neat white suit, he probably couldn't sing like Bing Crosby, and he didn't offer a professional lightshow. He wasn't giving the crippled special privileges, even if only for a few hours. Benny Hinn was offering a lot more than his detractors could compete with.
After the mesmerizing songs, the tone dropped to a chatty informality as Hinn said how glad he was to finally come to Vancouver, and introduced some of his staff. He called up one family in particular to come to the stage, and when he asked the wife of some pastor to say hello to the audience, she refused. He insisted, remarking, "Don't be like my wife and say 'no'." The stadium roared with laughter, and I was suddenly horrified. Drawn slowly into the inspirational tone of the choir, the holy aura of Hinn's white suit, and the worshipful air of his sobbing flock, I was now suddenly unable to stop myself imagining Hinn dropping his virginal trousers to reveal his squeaky clean nutsack and his wife refusing yet again to let him tuck his love gift in there.
After the introductions, and after Hinn told us that Jesus would appear here tonight, and that our sickness and cancer would remain behind when we left, Hinn launched into a frenzied rant. Hinn told us that Mohammed was a fake, Buddha was a fake, and only Jesus was true, at which point, through some invisible cue, people began murmuring quietly, "Yes, Jesus…Yes, Jesus", and now the old Romanian woman was uttering prayers under her breath constantly. People were raising their hands in the air and waving them slowly, like stalks of wheat in a breeze. One guy in the next section was sobbing and yelling with his face raised to the heavens. "If you sin, your soul will die," Hinn howled, at which the old Romanian woman jabbed my arm.
Suddenly Hinn told us to raise our hands if we were willing to accept Jesus. By this time I had grown tired of the various commands to stand, sit, raise my hand, and say this or that, so I didn't raise my hand, but when he invited those with raised hands to come down onto the floor, by God was I ready to accept Jesus. The old Romanian woman pushed past us as if chased by lions, and we followed her onto the floor, which had been conveniently opened now by the security staff, and we all pilgrimaged toward the stage.
Hinn told us to repeat that we would surrender ourselves to Jesus, who gave us a 100% guarantee.
People were sobbing and howling and chanting with their arms raised high, now blocking the view of all the cripples behind us.