Since I don’t have health insurance, I thought I’d attend a taping of faith healer Benny Hinn’s TV show This Is Your Day, which airs on the TBN Network (or as some call it, “the 24-Hour God Network”). Benny Hinn (not Benny Hill) is a multimillionaire/TV evangelist/faith healer. He claims to heal people simply by touching them. While on Larry King Live, Hinn said that if people touched their television sets while he prayed for them, they would be healed. My goal is to save tons of money healing my ailments without bothersome doctors and all their medical hoo-ha.

ON YOUR MARKS, GET SET, BE HEALED!
In order to test the healing waters, I’ve decided to walk with crutches and wear a fashionable SARS mask. As I hobble toward the entrance of a big gaudy building, I begin shouting Benny Hinn’s name.

“Do you need some help?” asks a man in an expensive suit manning the door to a room that appears to have been decorated by the same guy who did Michael Jackson’s house.

“No,” I mumble from beneath my SARS mask. “Benny Hinn will take care of that.” Then I add, “Does he heal everyone in the audience?”

“He doesn’t heal you,” clarifies a woman standing by a metal detector and sign that reads No Weapons Allowed. “God heals you!”

“Do I need to sign up or anything so he can heal me?” I ask, slightly lifting up my SARS mask so she can understand me.

“He’ll pick people from the audience,” she explains, moving back slightly.

The metal detector goes nuts as I crutch through.

“Oh, just go right on in,” says one of the many large security guards, leaving me safe in the knowledge that used crutches and a SARS mask make suitable credentials to bypass security.

Crutching on, I pass many photos of Benny Hinn in action. Some look like he was awkwardly inserted via Photoshop. There’s Benny Hinn with the Pope, Benny Hinn with Mother Teresa, Benny Hinn holding a small child towards the heavens and various people weeping, weeping, weeping – all touched by the miraculous hand of Hinn.

As a big-haired woman shows me to my seat, I accidentally step on several people’s feet trying to crutch to my chair.

“Sorry,” I say while lifting my SARS mask. Tacky fountains, Greek pillars and ornate chairs make the This Is Your Day set look like a king’s living room, or the set of a get-rich-quick-through-real estate infomercial.

“Let me take those for you,” requests the woman with big hair. She then walks away with my crutches (perhaps this is Benny Hinn’s first step towards helping me walk on my own!).

People’s hands are in the air in stick-em-up fashion, singing along with Benny Hinn when a swarthy man with logic-defying hair takes the podium. His suit looks very expensive.

“I got some great news!” he excitedly announces. “We just got the building next door. They wanted $10 million, but we got it for $7.2 million!” The crowd hoots and hollers.

“Now we’ve got to start raising the money!” Benny Hinn adds with a laugh.

SHOWTIME!
The filming starts.

“The following program has been made possible by viewers like you,” announces a voice from somewhere (heaven?), forgetting to include that the viewers have also made Benny Hinn’s private jet possible.

Benny Hinn kicks things off by announcing his arena healing tour. Having just returned from Central America, the tour represents the U.S. leg of Hinn’s perpetual road trip of Madison Square Garden-sized venues (Benny Hinn is the AC/DC of faith healing).

“Today, I want to tell you what we did in Panama. Twenty thousand people were turned away,” he states. “Three deaf mutes were healed!”

“Praise Jesus!” exclaims the believer next to me, shaking her head.

“This woman came back to Panama to die. She’s not going to die. She’s healed of uterus cancer!” Benny Hinn proclaims to the audience. Now howling in a Ricki Lake-like fashion, Hinn adds, “God healed the people of Panama. Now… HE WANTS TO HEAL YOU!”

The crowd goes religiously ape-sh*t. We’ve taken the bait. Benny Hinn closes his eyes.

“Bone cancer has just been healed. Thank you, Jesus! I see someone with cancer of the spine. Thank you, Jesus! Someone’s ears have been healed. Thank you, Jesus! Someone’s leg has been healed. Thank you, Jesus!”

He doesn’t tell us who these people are, but we take his word they’re being totally healed. The religious organ music builds, and Benny Hinn looks directly into the camera. “I want to do more of these crusades like in Panama.”

Gazing at the monitor, I feel as if he is talking to me, and only me. I’m hypnotized.

“Partners, all you need to spend is less than a dollar a day!” He stresses this, I believe, with condescension.

I nearly reach for my wallet to pull out handfuls of money. Luckily, I have none.

BRING OUT THE GUESTS
Benny Hinn’s first guest is a Baptist woman with poodle hair, author of a book called Spiritual Housecleaning. She is the most uptight woman on the planet.

“That magazine hidden under your son’s mattress can affect your whole household,” she stresses with extreme concern. “It’s spiritual pollution and can bring demons into your entire household.”

Whoa, that seems a bit harsh. But there’s more.

“Sometimes people have arguments that only happen at home. That’s because you have demons in your house!”

She goes on to list other things that bring demons into your home: antiques (you don’t know who owned them before), books by certain authors, Pokemon (“it’s a little demon in your pocket!”) and, of course, Potter, Harry Potter.

“There’s something un-Christian about that book,” she bellows with fervor, making an angry face. “Harry Potter is not Witchcraft 101. It’s advanced witchcraft!”

She urges parents to go through their children’s rooms and proclaim, “Spirit of God, show me anything that needs to be removed from my house!” at which point you’re supposed to burn the offending items on a big bonfire, or, as the most-uptight-woman-in-all-the-world stresses, “pawn anything of value and send the money to Benny Hinn.”

“I REBUKE THE ENEMY!” Benny Hinn interjects. The crowd goes Pentecostal on his ass with shouts of “Amen!”

TIME TO HEAL!
The next 30 minutes are used as an infomercial for a myriad of Benny Hinn tie-in merchandise. I’m starting to feel possessed by the powers of Satan, because I want to SCREAM! I begin looking for my crutches (where the hell are they?) so I can hobble out of here faster than you can say brimstone.

But before I can make a quick exit, Benny Hinn goes mad with healing power. People are healed left and right! All at the touch of a hand! I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s freakin’ weird.

“Those who are sick, place your hand on that part of the body, and I will heal that sickness in the name of Jeeee-sus!”

Since I can’t find where they hid my damn crutches, I place my hand on my little finger (I cut it while slicing a bagel).

“There’s somebody getting healed in the shoulder,” Benny Hinn cries. No one fesses up. Regardless, Benny Hinn adds with uncanny telepathic power, “You feel warmth on your shoulder and you’re sitting to my right.”

With the anonymous shoulder work complete, Hinn adds, “Thank you Jesus!”

Now I’m beginning to feel a little skeptical. That’s quite a stretch, considering all he had to do was look at someone touching his shoulder. To the right of the stage is a group of people in wheelchairs and walkers. There’s a man in a neck brace. Why the hell doesn’t he heal one of them?! You don’t have to play peek-a-boo games to see they need healing. Maybe God doesn’t want to heal them!

Instead, This Is Your Day becomes like the flippin’ Price Is Right.

“Lady in red, do you have a problem with your lower back? Come here, come here. God is healing you!”

The lady in red runs towards the stage.

He touches her head.

“I REBUKE IT IN THE NAME OF JESUS!”

She lets out an audible shriek. Benny Hinn’s power knocks her backwards into the arms of one of his handlers (how does one become a faith healer handler? Seems like it might look good on a resume). He gently places her in a heap on the floor. Healing is very dramatic. The circus continues.

“Someone’s skin itches. Come quickly!”

A man in a black and white striped sweater hauls ass for the altar.

“It’s your right arm. JESUS, I REBUKE IT!” vHe collapses in a heap next to the other woman. The people in wheelchairs look very pleased at Benny Hinn’s abilities (yet remain in their wheelchairs).

“Lady, right there. You have a pain in your chest? I REBUKE IT! Right there, arthritis in the hand? I REBUKE IT! You’re healed. You will never have that problem again! Lady, there in the purple. What am I seeing? Is it something with your shoulder? I REBUKE IT.” Benny Hinn is now on a serious roll.

“There’s someone with something on the end of your nose. A pimple. I know who you are. I won’t embarrass you,” he says, staring at a teenage girl who looks like she wants to crawl under a rock. “I REBUKE IT IN THE NAME OF JESUS!”

Whole families get rebuked with the same intense energy. They lay piled on stage.

“I’m sensing someone with a problem with their spine…”

“It’s me! It’s me!” I scream.

I vigorously wave my crutches that I finally found. This is too much. I can’t leave here without being healed. Healing time is running out. I bolt towards the stage. The woman next to me looks amazed when I do so carrying my crutches.

“Sorry, I have to be healed,” I blurt, accidentally stepping on her foot.

I make my way down to the stage.

“Yes, it’s me! I’m the one you were sensing with the problem in the spine!” I scream, ready to be REBUKED!

Without missing a beat, the hand of Hinn graces my forehead.

“I REBUKE IT!”

Unfortunately, I don’t fall backwards. Maybe he didn’t give me a big enough dose of Jesus. Instead, his handler grabs me and assists me to the ground. On the way down, I rip off my SARS mask and throw it in the crowd.

“I won’t be needing that anymore!”

As I lay there, seeing other rebuked people laying next to me, the only thing I can do is giggle. It’s the kind of giggle you giggle when you realize your parents are Santa Claus.

WHEN THE HEALING ENDS
As buckets are handed out for money collecting, Benny Hinn shares a funny anecdote about casting out Satan while staying in a castle in Germany. I write “Satan Loves You!” on a slip of paper and place it in the bucket. My little finger still hurts.

The buckets of money are passed to the center as people pull out wallets and checkbooks, clearly impressed by the high theatrics and carnival atmosphere. I feel sorry for these people. They want so dearly to believe, that they’ll throw hard-earned money at Benny Hinn, who will SO be riding in a Rolls-Royce and dining on swan.

Walking out, I no longer feel a need for my crutches. I’ll just claim I was healed vicariously. Those who didn’t get picked get slightly catty.

“She always gets picked,” someone mentions on the way out.

I hand my crutches to the man who originally greeted me at the front door.

He looks at my crutches, then stares at me walking in normal fashion.

“Praise! Praise! Praise!” he keeps repeating. Praise, indeed.