God's Man in Texas, Georgetown Palace Theatre, February 22 - March 8

With her decision to stage God's Man in Texas at the Georgetown Palace Theatre, artistic director Mary Ellen Butler has taken a risk. She acknowledges in the program that she has waited seven years to put it on -- "as the Palace grew . . . in depth of audience, attendance, and actor availability."

The Palace is now a highly successful non-profit venture, depending on a local audience including a big percentage of retirees -- folks you might assume to be relatively conservative in their outlook. It specializes in high quality light fare (sometimes 'lite' fare). For example, this season features two comedies, three musical comedies, a musical, and God's Man in Texas.

God's Man in Texas premiered at a festival in Kentucky in 1999. It has been regularly produced since then, and companies have tended to emphasize the humor in it ("an entertaining drama"; "a harsh though sometimes humorous look at organized religion"; "intelligent, thought-provoking and funny"; "with gentle humor and great respect, [it] brings to light issues common to any corporate or religious environment. . . "; etc.). Mary Ellen Butler opens her program comments with the notice, "God's Man in Texas is not a spoof or a skewering but a thoughtful, probing comedy about succession, the reach of church power and the quest for redemption that never ends, even for authentic men of God."

What I saw was a drama of scope and penetration, one that was dealing principally with the egregious sins of pride and ambition. Playwright Rambo adroitly uses the forms of evangelistic oratory and carefully exaggerates the peculiarly American characteristics of mass religion.

For example, the audience enters and finds itself facing an enormous cross, a pulpit and some fussy, mannered flower arrangements in front of a curtain of shimmering lavender. After the opening scene, we realize that the church set, stretching the entire width of the stage, is built on a huge turntable. Stagehands push it around to reveal the ample, comfortably furnished wood-paneled formal office of the church pastor. The set itself, which revolves perhaps ten times during the evening suggests the enormous scale of a megachurch.

We meet the young, modest pastor Dr. Jeremiah "Jerry" Mears, who has been invited as guest preacher. He is pleased and flattered to be appearing in this historic pulpit. Derek Jones as Mears is earnest, respectful and contained. He is attended by the church's audio-visual technician Hugo Taney (Andy Brown). Cheerful and talkative, Taney is unabashed about confiding that Rock Baptist Church and its pastor turned his life around.

Enter the pastor, Dr. Phillip Gottschall, played with wily élan and orotund assurance by Joe Penrod. He's a pastor for the ages, on the level with Billy Graham and equally at home with presidents of the United States ("except Clinton, of course"). He's 82 years old, the founder and pastor of the Rock Baptist Church, a mega-institution in Houston so big that the young adult program has 6,000 members. Gottschall is vigorous, in full possession of his faculties, charming, authoritative and the very picture of a successful CEO. We learn that without consulting him the church board has decided to invite guest preachers over a succession of Sundays, with the evident intention of acquainting the congregation with possible candidates to replace him.

Though the playwright doesn't tell us this, "Gottschall" in German suggests "resounding call of God."


The first half of the piece features excerpts from Mears' series of sermons, which evolve under helpful coaching from A-V tech Hugo Taney from cerebral meditations to folksy homilies, though always with conviction and fine preacherly presentation. There's a clever set of jokes about broccoli and the first President Bush.



Gottschall thwarts the "disloyal" initiative of the committee by blocking a rival and announces that Mears will be co-pastor of Rock Baptist. The first act ends with a fierce sermon by Gottschall on the theme, "The time is not yet!" One could play this piece for laughs, highlighting Gottschall's implicit comparison of himself with Jesus or the Deity; but Joe Penrod's delivery is instead so monumental, a perfectly pitched representation of the Mosaic certainty of an erudite man of God, that one involuntarily begins to search one's own soul, instead. The man's adamant warnings are chilling.

Jerry Mears wins the position, and in the second act he quickly picks up the jargon of "the numbers" (of baptized, of contributions, of membership -- all the quantification of Big Business). Gottschall sets him an unending series of trivial tasks -- for example, we get to hear him bless the new bowling alley at Rock Baptist, and we hear him address AA and other backsliders, where he runs across A-V tech Hugo. Some woman has been insistently calling Mears, trying to get into contact with Hugo. . . .

Gottschall becomes more and more threatened by Jerry, while Hugo is pursued by the unknown woman from his past. She tells Jerry that Hugo has a son from their liaison 13 years earlier. When Jerry passes this on, Hugo is completely taken aback. Dismissal becomes denial becomes uncertainty as Jerry counsels him.

Andy Brown has established Hugo for us as simple man who is happy to have found home and a salvation at Rock Baptist -- in effect, he represents for us all those thousands who are faithful clients of this huge enterprise. We identify with him as we see him hesitate, apprehensive about this new development, about these new people, and about the uncertainty of Gottschall's reaction to the unwelcome news.

With good reason. The Great Man misreads their counseling session as conspiracy, and the piece builds to a climax.

God's Man in Texas sails very close to the wind, raising issues that some of us might wish to avoid. Rambo uses the theatrical rituals of church to great effect -- the symbols and evangelical language, confession and counseling, and the public side of pastoral communication. Religious faith is never questioned, for all three men are firm believers.

In the last analysis, it's a parable. We have three sinners in this piece: a great man who is blind to his own shortcomings, a simple man who tries to keep his own sins from destroying him, and a young pastor who struggles with the illusions of worldly authority and power. There are some moments of humor and caricature, but in the main this play is as serious as a Sunday school lesson. Judging from the comments I heard about me in the audience, the Georgetown public received it with appreciation.

Dramaurgy: A conversation with David Rambo about the play

David Rambo's comments to Actors theatre, with his biography