Sugar Walls And Alter Calls

You haven't lived until you've heard a minister at his pulpit facing his congregation read the lyrics to Sheena Easton's song Sugar Walls. I damn near died, straining to hold my laughter in.

"Where I came from there's a place called heaven
That's the place where all the good children go
The houses are of silver, the streets are gold
But there's more where you come from, my sugar walls

Blood races to your private spots, that lets me know there's a fire
You can't fight passion when passion is hot
Temperatures rise inside my sugar walls"

He Pauses in his reading, peaking out over his glasses and adding "I think we all know what she's talking about here when she says Sugar Walls." Oh indeed we did though before his reading I'd never bothered to think about it.

He continued reading in the most unsexy but emphatic pulpit pounder voice, "Lemme take you somewhere you've never been
I could show you things you've never seen
I could make you never wanna fall in love again
Come spend the night inside my sugar walls

Take advantage, it's alrightI feel so alive when I'm with you
Come and feel my presence, it's reigning tonight
Heaven on earth inside my sugar walls

chorus
I can tell you want me, it's impossible to hide
Your body's on fire, admit it!
Come inside Come inside my sugar walls
Come spend the night inside my sugar walls"

He had just discovered this bit of filth apparently and it had opened his eyes to the threat that our society currently faced. Our childeren were in danger as the forces of evil took over the air waves. And perhaps the funniest part, at least to me at the time, was that none us had listened to Sheena Easton in years. She hadn't recieved radio play in ages. I wanted to bring him Big Black's "Songs About Fucking" and watch him die on the spot of cardiac arrest. Unfortunately I'd left that one sitting out and one of my mother's friends read the tilte outloud at a PTA meeting so into the trash it went.

His beautiful rendition of Sugar Walls was just the start of his sermon. Where the hell was he gonna go from there? Yep, you guessed it, he was leading us toward a good old fashioned book burning, well, record and tape burning mostly.

He covered horror films, combat boots (I was wearing a pair), and of course pop music. Literature is about the only thing he didn't hit on. I guess he was too busy checking up on Prince and Freddy Kreuger to see what we were reading. I have a feeling Judy Blume would not have pleased him.

He invited everyone to come back that evening and to bring any offending records or tapes that they would want to destroy in church bonfire. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. I called my friend Jim who insisted we attend. My poor mother agreed to take us, not realizing we were going mostly for the freak show appeal. If there was gonna be a geek biting the heads off of chickens we'd have been all the more excited.

Evening falls and the minister says the bonfire can not happen that night but that he would collect the offending material and it would take place as soon as he could get clearance. He then launched a truly great piece of preaching describing the way a population hates, then tolerates and finally embraces. He could have been describing the way society responds to facism, but no he was talking about witchcraft, satanism, homosexuality and sin in all it's sexy forms. He used the analogy of boiling a frog slowly, as the frog will jump out if the water gets too hot to fast. Boil the frog slowly, is a favorite expression of mine to this day.

His sermon ended with an altercall. The church's way of utilizing peer preasure. A few kids responded and as he continued a few more followed. He wouldn't give up. On and on he went until finally the critical mass hit and everyone decided to join the crowd hugging and weeping at the alter, everyone that is except Jim, me and my poor humiliated mother. This man was on fire and would not give up. With us the obvious recipients of his message he ranted on and on until finally Jim whispered to me "If we don't get out of here now we'll be on the recieving end of an exorcism." I nudged my mom and we all stood. The minister was now bouncing up and down in true, deep south, bible thumping fits of ecstacy mistakenly believing we were walking into the light, and you can believe the fire and brimstone rained down as he realized we were acutally headed out the door.

We never returned to this church, in fact my church daying days were drawing to a close in general. I heard from friends that the good minister did not return either and the bonfire never took place. I was relieved to hear that the majority of the church establishment recognized insanity when they saw it.



Post script:
And now, an embarassing confession.
My brother John, quite the evangelical himself did have to stop me from burning my Pink Floyd tapes once at Christian Camp. I was about 14 and on fire for the lord. I had decided Floyd had to go. John kneeled down next to me and said "No. Don't do that." and left. I figured he probably knew what he was talking about and Dark Side Of The Moon went back in my pocket.