In the wild and violent HBO series, Deadwood, the Reverend H.W. Smith (Raymond McKinnon) seems oddly out of place. In the midst of Gold Rush outlaws and moral misfits, he is a tall, gentle man, with a kind heart.
Deadwood is a savagely unmanageable town in the Black Hills of South Dakota. And Reverend Smith, an upright mystic, and a man of the Bible, struggles to extend the goodness of God to the ruthless and the wicked.
A smallpox plague strikes the town and “Preacher” Smith works tirelessly to aid the sick and the dying ignoring the risks of contagion. He somehow escapes the plague but then is afflicted with epilepsy and eventually insanity.
In his illness, he finds comfort in the piano playing at the Gem Saloon and Brothel. He is seen there hugging his weathered Bible, his eyes glassy and bleak, smiling broadly with his head raised to heaven and his body weaving to the music. The bar owner, the incorrigible Al Swearengen (Ian McShane), tells the preacher he can’t be in the there while customers are there. “It ain’t proper,” he says as he pulls Rev. Smith from the piano bench and out of the saloon. Others in the crowd don’t want him there either. The preacher’s presence seems to be a moral rebuke to their gambling and whoring.
But as Rev. Smith says, he was only there to enjoy the music. In his quivering fits and his random quoting of long passages of Scripture, people ignored him or thought him a crazy and a useless irritant. From this dismissiveness, Rev. Smith often feels alone and isolated. The saloon brings him into the company of others and the music calms his turbulent mind.
In spite of the abuse of those against him, and his own ailing health, Preacher Smith maintains a sunny spirit still always hoping for the best from himself and from others.
In these times of madness, vulgarity, rage, and meanness, I want to be with people like Reverend Smith. People still in possession of some innate innocence; people imbued with humility and humanity; people who love, who extend themselves generously and unconditionally; people who laugh ecstatically, who are warm and tender; people rugged but gentle, aware but not obsessed, smart but not arrogant; people who understand the ache of being here, but have a longing to be there, anywhere there is acceptance and goodness.
Writer Mary Ann Brusatt has written extensively about zeal. She says it is a deep inner quality that affirms life. She writes, “This spiritual practice includes a wholehearted delight in the senses and a passionate love for who we are and what we have been given. We are encouraged in its pursuit by our companions on the path and the countless teachers who stretch our souls. Our zeal moves us to live compassionately and to serve others. It shows up in our prayers, rituals, family life, and community activities.”
“The countless teachers who stretch our souls.” That’s what I want in my friends, in my companions, and for myself to be that to others.
Preacher H.W. Smith had this. In his slow debilitating decline, his life was luminous in such a dark world.
© 2018 Timothy Moody
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