HOW COMMON IS THE UNCOMMON!
HOW EASY IT IS TO FALL OFF OUR STOOL, OR OUR MOUNTAIN!
James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.
© April 17, 2014
REFERENCE:
As many readers know,
I am in the proofreading and editing stage in preparing my published works for TATE
Publishing to re-release them in Second Editions.
The segment shown
here is taken from “Six Silent Killers” and deals specifically with passive defensive reckless abandon behavior. It is shown here because ordinary people,
good people, can get caught up in extraordinary circumstances, losing their
moorings, and as they say, become history.
Jim and Tammy Bakker represent
such an example. This is not presented
to judge, but to remind the reader we are all vulnerable to deception and no
deception more readily than self-deception.
JIM BAKKER’S LADDER IS GONE!
Irish poet William Butler Yeats writes, “Now that my ladder is
gone, I must lie down where all ladders start, in the fowl rag and-bone shop of
the heart.”
Some of us scale to great heights, only to avoid ever
running into ourselves. But, there is a time when crashing reality cuts through
the fog for many others, and they come face-to-face with their own humble
selves as naked, exposed, and truly wretched beings.
It is a wonder we don’t have more compassion in our hearts
for those that fall because everyone falls at some time in their lives, be it
off a footstool or a mountain. Jim and Tammy Bakker were designed for falling
off a footstool, but somehow found themselves falling off a mountain.
How such totally ordinary people could rise so high and fall
so far is a telling index of our times. Their “Praise the Lord” (PTL)
television club was a resounding success, largely due to its commonplace
familiarity and genius for understanding what may broadly be called the spiritual
or emotional life of individuals as ordinary people.
Jim Bakker possessed something that intellectuals scorn as “common
con,” when it is actually an exceptional sensitivity to the heart of the lonely
and lost, which includes most of us. He possessed antennae to troubled souls,
something perfectly ordinary, empirical, and quasi-aesthetic. This gift entails
the capacity for integrating a vast amalgam of constantly changing events—too many,
too swift, and too intermingled to be caught and pinned down — as elements in a
single pattern where simple prayer is the pragmatic answer.
Denomination, dogma, liturgical scripture, and even the
Bible were not the common focus. Indeed, Bakker brought followers into his
flock beyond Christianity. To be able to do this well seems to be a gift akin
to that of the creative artist.
He gave the impression that he was directly acquainted with his
listeners’ pain and texture of their lives, not just the sense of the chaotic
flow of experience, but a highly developed discrimination of what matters most
to the wounded. Above all this, he had an actual sense of what fits with what,
what springs from what, what leads to what, how things seem to vary to
different people, what the effect of such experience upon them may be, and what
the result is likely to be in a concrete situation of the interplay of human
beings and impersonal forces.
No, this was not the raving of a “common con.” Bakker
demonstrated a sense for what is qualitative rather than quantitative, for what
is specific rather than general in the lives of his listeners. Bakker
epitomized a direct acquaintance with pain, distinct from a capacity for description
of pain or calculation of what the pain might mean to a Freudian psychoanalyst
or a social engineer. He presented no credentials as an expert. Nor did he
attempt to present himself as beyond being flawed. He possessed what is
sometimes called “natural wisdom” as opposed to scholarly erudition. What he
possessed was an imaginative understanding, insight, perceptiveness, and
intuition into the matter of ordinary lives of ordinary people.
With this practical wisdom, he demonstrated a capacity for
synthesis rather than analysis. His troubles began when he tried to analyze his
own success and, with it, his audience’s tolerance for his family’s flaunted,
blatant, and escalating eccentricities.
Somewhere between the Bakker home and the homes of millions of
Americans, Tammy’s mascara and war paint and Jim’s cherubic grin became
diabolical. Essentially nice people in common with most, the Bakkers got caught
in the war of ratings and the insatiable appetite for more glorious projects,
which required more and more television dollars. Long before Jim’s sex escapade
and scandal surfaced, the PTL club had become “show biz,” departing from its
practical message and spiritual intent.
The PTL club became entertainment with a capital “E.” There
is no way to substitute the perceptual gift, the capacity for taking in the
total pattern of the human condition, or an understanding of the way in which
things hang together—a talent which Bakker possessed, then neglected—and expect
to stay on course.
When Bakker started listening to advisers with uncanny gifts
for analysis and stopped using his natural wisdom, he embraced alien if not
hostile forces. When that happened, the Bakkers commenced to behave like
superstars with other people’s money. The mansions, the Mercedes, the elaborate
vacations, Tammy’s shopping sprees—all became part of a growing scam that led
to Jim’s dalliance with Jessica Hahn, or to reckless
abandon passive defensiveness— “you can’t touch me!” When that came to
dominate their lives and lifestyle, when that happened, the Bakkers became a
“born again disaster.”
Jim Bakker forgot that his rise had little to do with him
personally and everything to do with his acquaintance with the ghosts that
haunt us all. Failure came from his resistance to what worked best for him and
from ignoring it in favor of systematic verification—polls and ratings—and then
becoming enamored of and overwhelmed by his own genius.
What happened to Jim Bakker could happen to anyone who
climbs off the stool and starts trekking up the mountain oblivious to its obstacles
if not its danger.
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