The Rebellion of Yale Marratt (33 page)

 

 

"Other than at the end of this program," he said, "I endeavor each evening
to bring some new aspect of this religion of fulfillment to my audience.
I realize that many of you have come here night after night. Some of you
have found in these simple messages a new meaning to life. If somehow I
have this season brought to you an understanding of the vital brotherhood
of man, I am happy. I hope someday to formalize the work I have done here
in a creed for man. Not a creed to substantiate the teachings of any
prophet . . . be he Jesus, or be he Buddha . . . but a creed for the
God that lives in each of you eternally.

 

 

"This week is my final appearance as a civilian. Tomorrow, I enter the
Army, to serve and -- in the capacity of a Chaplain -- to help, as I can,
the men who, whether they realize it or not, whether their particular
religion or theology has been able to evoke it for them, are fighting
for this creed of love for man, I hope one day to see you again in the
capacity of a humble servant of God. I thank you for your encouragement.
I hope someday to establish a foundation to be simply called 'Seek the
True Love.' The money I have earned by these appearances other than
what has been required to provide food and shelter for my wife and
myself, has already been earmarked for this purpose. Someday I pray,
with your help and millions like you, my message will be spread through
the entire world."

 

 

As Mat spoke, his voice ran up and down the dramatic scale. He thundered
and then he spoke in hushed whispers. In words that sometimes approached
the vernacular of the street, he explained that man in organized religion,
both in the Christian and Judaistic life, had forsworn his birthright.
He vividly described primitive fertility rites. The worship of the priapus
and female sex organ as he evoked it brought a subdued gasp from the
audience. Gently he tried to give them an understanding of these original
gropings of primitive man in search of God. To understand the universe
and its mysteries, he told them, through the fundamental sexuality of
all living things contained the seeds of true comprehension.

 

 

"I tell you," he said, and his impressive height and gaunt figure
attenuated by the green spotlight accentuated the fervor of his voice,
"I tell you, that while this original sex worship went to extremes and
resulted in depraved orgies, nevertheless these people had the grand
conception that can keep man going forward for all eternity.

 

 

"What happened to this clear-sighted intuition of our ancestors? This
intuition that brought them to worship the never-ending mystery of life
and death? I'll tell you what happened! A little group of men arose
who sought to channel this power to their own use. They were the first
priests. They knew that if they were to control men, they would have
to make the simple act of creation devious. They would have to add the
element of FEAR." Mat screamed the words. "And I tell you
they did just
that
! First, there was a group who aided and abetted this primitive sex
worship. Instead of leaving it alone for what it was . . . a simple wonder
at the beauty of death and regeneration . . . a wonder that took form in
priapic creations, not harmful in themselves . . . ah, but in this form
not a source of power to anyone . . . instead of leaving the people alone,
they contaminated them. How do you make power for control out of the
organs of love? I'll tell you! You add the terrible word TABOO! Taboo."

 

 

Mat trailed the word into a terrifying whisper, and then he smiled.
His voice returned to normal. "It scares you, doesn't it? By dint
of repeating and repeating their sorry story these primitive priests
indoctrinated their followers. They used the same basic method that
Hitler has used in Europe. To help their cause they usurped the
ultimate sex rites to themselves in ceremonies that if I told you
about them would make you gag. A terrible defamation of the wonder of
man. After many centuries they grew so powerful that everywhere they
held primitive man in thralldom. But power begets power. Suddenly a new
group of priests arose. This new group declaimed against these false
prophets. I don't have to tell you about these new priests. Take your old
Testament off the shelf. You can read the wrath they hurled at Sodom and
Gomorrah. Unfortunately these old prophets were seeking power, too. Again,
what better weapon to use than man's primitive wonder. Calumniate it
. . . make it evil. How? An amazing idea taken over from a Greek fairy
story and given a sexual twist by still a new group seeking power.
The
fall of man
was conceived. They took the simple act of love of man
for woman, a God-given
desire
, and introduced the
serpent
. And you,
and you . . . and you," Mat pointed an accusing finger at the audience,
"have inherited and sanctified that polluted idea . . . a worse pollution
than Hitler's
Mein kampf
philosophy. If I had the time I could show
you that Hitler and Mussolini are simply outgrowths of it. Someday the
seeds of that pollution which has spawned war . . . and hate . . . and
jealousy . . . will swallow us all up in its muck."

 

 

Yale could feel the audience in Mat's grip. Mat had them enthralled.
He could hear the quick sighs of those Mat touched deeply. Yale listened to
him in amazement as he attacked the early Hebrew prophets. Mat followed up
with even worse denunciations of the early Christians. Yale wondered why
Mat with these dangerous ideas hadn't created some kind of a religious riot.
The audience was either basically Christian or Jewish. But in some way,
Mat seemed to be able to say these things with such a warm sincerity,
driving his message home, without benefit of religious or psychological
jargon, that he reached back in time to some residue of the primitive
wonder in every person who listened to him.

 

 

"I like him," Kathie whispered. "He's really saying that people are nice
. . . if only other people would let them be."

 

 

Yale grinned. Maybe Kathie was right. He realized that somewhere in
the past hour of listening his anger with Mat had vanished. Now Yale
had only a vast curiosity to discover how Mat had arrived at this new
dynamic philosophy of life. Had Cynthia been a part of this development?

 

 

Yale's thoughts were interrupted by the realization that Mat had suddenly
disappeared from the platform. His voice continued even more persuasively
over the microphones. The stage grew dim. For a moment the light
disappeared entirely. The tent was in blackness. Mat's voice whispered,
"And these are the words of Jesus, 'Think not that I am come to send peace
on earth. I came not to send peace but a sword. For I am come to set a
man at variance against his father; and the daughter against her mother,
and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.' Is this Jesus of ours
a man of Peace?" Mat demanded. "No. He is a sower of hatred! Jesus managed
to trump the awful wrath of the prophets with a new idea . . . an insidious
hatred of sex. Think of this man who could ignore his mother and all women
in his quest for power. 'Woman,' Jesus said to Mary, 'What have I to do
with thee?'" Mat paused and then he thundered, "There is no future for
the dignity of man in a concept so based on fear and disgust with the
normal sex act that it required a virgin birth for its prophet.

 

 

"JESUS!" Mat's voice thundered. "I'll tell you what YOU and every man has
to do with women." As Mat's voice reached an almost unbearable pitch,
the stage was lighted with a hazy, soft blue glow. The audience, as if
looking through swirling mists, caught the almost ethereal glimpse of a
woman, standing naked in the middle of the stage, her arms raised, her
head tilted to the sky. It was a dreamlike personification of Woman. The
female principle in life, Yale thought, the essence of Beauty. As the
light slowly dimmed he knew that, for a second, he had been staring at
Cynthia! The lights came on full again. She had vanished from the stage.

 

 

"This should be your worship. The Worship of the ineffable wonder of man,
and his receptacle of life . . .
woman
!" Mat had returned to the stage.
"I offer you what you have always known. I only ask you to be unafraid
of those who hate man. They travel in many guises. They will continue
to dominate you with this fear and hatred. Stop them. Now! With the very
wonder that makes you a man . . . or a woman."

 

 

Mat had finished. He bowed to his audience and disappeared through the
trap door. Had Mat constructed it that way in the event he might cause
a riot? The audience was moving out of the tent as if they were stunned.

 

 

"How did you like it?" Pearlstein demanded. "Wasn't that something?
Boy, that guy could sell you the Brooklyn Bridge."

 

 

"I'm going to see if I can talk with him a minute," Yale answered.
"He's a fellow I knew in college."

 

 

"No kidding! I think I'll tag along. I'd like to hear what he's got to say.
Come on, Kathie, let's see what kind of a guy he is."

 

 

Yale wanted to protest. He would have preferred to see Mat Chilling
alone but he was embarrassed to leave Pearlstein and Kathie without
explanations. He shrugged. It probably wouldn't make any difference.
Mat and Cynthia's reception couldn't possibly be cordial. What good would
it do to confront them now with the fact that they were married. They
knew it. They had probably been married five years. Could he scream at
them . . . "Why couldn't you have told me?" Could he shout at Cynthia,
"Why? . . . when I loved you so much? How could you do that to me?"
No. It was too late for histrionics. Cynthia and Mat wouldn't believe that
after five years he had never been sure what had happened. Not until just
now. Nor could Cynthia ever understand that something of her, something
indefinable like a shadow or a friendly ghost of herself, trailed constantly
at Yale's side, holding him to her in a way that was sometimes frightening.

 

 

The pale-faced girl who sold tickets told them that Mat Chilling lived
in a trailer behind the tent. She doubted whether he would see anyone.

 

 

Followed by Jake and Kathie, Yale walked toward the rear of the tent.
The lights on the sign "Seek the True Love" were extinguished, leaving
them in sudden darkness. For a moment Yale considered abandoning the idea
of seeing Mat. Meeting him alone was one thing, but with strangers like
Pearlstein and Kathie he knew he would be constrained. On the other hand,
he thought, if I wait until tomorrow I may miss them entirely.

 

 

"What's the matter, Marratt?" Pearlstein asked. "Change your mind?"

 

 

"Well, I don't know. I haven't seen this fellow for nearly five years."
As Yale spoke a flashlight flared in the darkness, blinding him for a
second. "Are you looking for someone?" It was Mat Chilling.

 

 

"Mat! It's me, Yale Marratt." While Yale couldn't see his face, he could
hear the gasp of astonishment. There was a long pause as the flashlight
searched Yale's features.

 

 

"Cynthia, Cynthia," Mat shouted excitedly. "Come here! Look who is here."

 

 

"Yale, it's good to see you! Cynthia and I often have wondered how you
were. Come on up to the trailer." While he was speaking Mat dropped the
beam of the flashlight onto the ground. Even in the gloom, Yale could
see that he was trembling. He is as surprised as I am, Yale thought. Yale
noticed him looking at Jake and Kathie.

 

 

"These are a couple of people I met tonight," he explained, introducing
them. "They were as fascinated as I was."

 

 

Yale was about to continue when he saw Cynthia at the door of the trailer.
She jumped down two steps at a time, threw herself against him, and held
him in a long embrace. "Yale! Yale Marratt!" She breathed in his ears.
"I simply can't believe it! What are you doing in Miami?" Cynthia stood
back and examined his uniform. "You're an officer -- a lieutenant!" As
she talked she pushed him to the steps of the trailer. "Come on up. it's
tiny but there's room enough. Bring your friends," she said, noticing
Jake and Kathie.

 

 

They followed her into the trailer and sat awkwardly in camp chairs she
arranged around a tiny table. Yale looked at Cynthia. The desire to reach
out and touch her, to hold her close to him, was so overpowering that it
brought tears to his eyes. God, he thought, after five years I'm still
in love with her. He searched her oval, heart-shaped face, finding it
still beautiful with wide brown compassionate eyes. She looked at him
in wonder. "Yale -- oh, Yale -- you are a finance officer. How in the
world . . . ?"

 

 

"No kidding," Mat interrupted. "I would have picked you for anything in
the army but finance."

 

 

"I went to Harvard Business School." Yale's voice was a little distant.
He realized that they were trying to probe him before he could delve into
their background. "It was inevitable" He wanted to say, what else was
there to do? You were gone, Cynthia -- with you went everything.

 

 

"So your father won that battle, too?" Cynthia asked quietly.

 

 

"I guess you might say so. But what about you two? If I am amazing to you,
you are more so to me. You're married, I guess?"

 

 

Cynthia nodded and Mat said quickly, "We were married last year."

 

 

"Oh, I thought it was love at first sight. I had an idea you were married
right after graduation."

 

 

There was a tense silence. Mat looked at Cynthia. She shook her head
almost imperceptibly. Pearlstein, noticing the gap in the conversation,
changed the subject for them. "That was some spiel you gave out there,
Mr. Chilling. God damndest thing I ever heard! Pardon my English,
but it's the first really refreshing idea I've heard on the subject of
religion since I was Bar Mitzvahed."