The Devil Goes to Detroit

My first dance as a teenager (driving my date) was a Halloween themed event.  I asked out a girl from work.   Her high school was putting on a dance.  She wanted to go.  I found myself in a dark gym decorated with black and orange crepe paper and a disco ball hanging from the scoreboard.

I didn't know how to dance.  The slow songs were easy; hold the girl and sway, "accidently" cop a feel, repeat.  She'd brush her boobs against me, and sneak a peek from the corner of her eye to check the effect.  For romantic emphasis, I looked deeply into her eyes and mouth the lyrics to the song.  My hand gently caressed as it drifted down, slowly down, dangerously lower on her backside. 

Receive, the disapproving stare of a crone accompanied by the stern shaking of the head.  Feel, the gnarled claw of a chaperone gripping my wrist and placing my hand in a position roughly mid-back, but away from the temptation of the bra clasp.  Wonder, if you will ever recover from that encounter with the icy clasp of frigidity.  See, the pleased look in your date's eye as she contemplates the ramifications of you getting busted.

I have no recollection of what we did during the fast dances.  I think it involved awkward jerky movements and lots of attempts to avoid the dance floor.  The last slow dance was an extended version of REO Speedwagon's "I can't fight this feeling".  I detected a case of THO.  She flashed a knowing grin and said something about one more dance. 

The DJ put on a fast song.

I don't remember what song played.  I think it was "Shout at the Devil".  The double doors leading out to the hallway opened.  Standing against the well lighted hallway was a guy in a very realistic devil costume.  With pitchfork overhead, he started moving up and down with the music. 

They started chanting:  "Satan! Satan! Satan!" The chant matched the beat of the music.  The devil danced into the gym starting his own conga line.  Kids followed dancing and chanted "Satan! Satan! Satan!".

It's been years since I thought about that weird dance at Northwest High.  Today I saw a story in the Free Press.  Protesters: Don't turn Detroit over to Satanists  This last Saturday a group calling themselves "The Satanic Temple" had a statue unveiling event in Detroit.

I remember one teacher looking very uncomfortable at the dance.  I don't know how I looked, but I remember feeling like I had no business being there.  (I may have felt some slight guilt over the sin of lust, impure thoughts etc.  If I did it was minor compared to the reaction to hearing "Satan! Satan! Satan!" as a party chant.)  Most everyone went along with it; not just the kids, the teachers and parents too.

People go along with all sorts of things, not because they truly embrace it, but because its titillating, slightly naughty, rebellious and sounds like fun.  That's why people in Detroit shelled out $75 a pop to get their picture taken on Baphomet's lap.  A small number of them believed it was for real and embraced the ceremonies in earnest.  Most, I'm guessing did not.

A group, suffering form arrested adolescence, calling themselves "The Satanic Temple" called a tune and some danced to it.  The real Satan is alive and well in Detroit.  He needs no statue.  Want proof?  Go to city hall and see how things are being done.  What more proof?  Spend some time in the Cass corridor.

I believe that this is a moth and the flame situation.  The flame is real.  The moth just sees a pretty light.  Rabbi B has done a much better job discussing this theologically.  Give him a read, to get a better handle from that perspective.

It's amazing.  The more things change, the more they are like high school.