The Power of Sunset or Who Owns this Beach Anyway?

Last Sunday was our first full day on the white sugary sand of Siesta Key; our vacation destination last year and this year. Located near Sarasota on the Gulf Coast, we crossed through long stretches of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida to get here. A tiring trip, but worth it because once you make it here it truly lives up to its name. A perfect place to relax.  After dinner, we sauntered back down to the shore to watch the evening sun make its magnificent descent into the clear line along the horizon. We had realized last year that this was something we had never seen before, having been East Coast people our whole lives. Watching the last sliver of bright orange disappear into the water gave me a comforting sense of order in the universe. And this year I needed that sort of comforting reassurance more than ever. My previous post, Finding Balance in a Wobbly World, is about needing a reminder of G-d’s presence in our lives ever since my mother passed away in March of this year.

So as we passed through the last of the thick sea oats along the dune line and the sand and sea opened up before us, I was eager for the sun to put on its show. We were surprised to find that another type of show was about to begin. There were rows of benches in the spot that we had staked out as “our own” last year. In front of the benches, a crew of two men were busy setting up large sound equipment. And there were far more people gathered in this particular spot than we had ever seen last year. Then we saw the sign. “Public Welcome, Sunset Worship Service.” Then I noticed the 8’ tall wooden cross that had been planted like a beach umbrella in the sand.

In another post about my interfaith marriage, I talked about how being married to a Jew had made me more keenly aware of our society’s insensitivity toward people that are not Christian. So this awareness shaped my view of the activity being organized on the public beach where I had planned for my family to watch a quiet solar display of G-d’s power.   It was a jarring and unwelcome intrusion on my imagined vision for the evening. The large speakers, the gaudy sign, and the flyers being passed around touting the impending sermon and musical performance by an “America’s Got Talent” celebrity felt wrong to me. It seemed unnecessary.

The universe itself was about to pay tribute to our divine creator, so what did we need loud music and amplifiers for? And what about the people on this public beach who did not subscribe to whatever religious doctrine was about to be sung and shouted over the PA system? I mean these are public beaches maintained by tax dollars, right? I had to admit to myself that I really did not know the answer to that last question.

I remembered having read something, perhaps in my Real Estate training about this, but I could not remember exactly how the law regarded beaches. I have never been denied access to any beach, so my assumption has been that they are public and maintained with tax support. So, as I continued to watch the preparations being made for the church service on the sand, this became all I could think about. These holy rollers were disturbing my peace. This has been a pattern in my life; Religion was interfering with my religious practice. So I needed to know what gave these folks the right to hold a religious service on “our” beach.

So here is the tricky part. 

The particular spot on the beach that we were calling “ours”, was situated directly in front of a structure that could not be called anything else but a mansion. Not a McMansion, a real mansion. The chiropractor who founded 800-Ask-Gary owned 7 acres of beachfront property and built a 30,000 square foot Beaux-Arts style single family residence on it. It is a beautiful piece of architecture but the community has complained that it is not appropriate for its location. I wondered if the ability to hold a church service on the beach was a kind of wealthy white privilege that is taken for granted in our country. 

I walked up to the two guys setting up the sound system. “Hi”, I said. And then asked in a friendly and curious voice, “What are you guys setting up for?” One of them explained that they were about to hold a worship service hosted by the local Church of God. Still smiling and inquisitive, I asked how that worked. Did they have to get a permit? The sound guy politely explained that there was not a need for that as the location was on private property and pointed to the mansion. He said that Gary was letting the church use the house and the beachfront for the service. I thought about this as I watched the flip-flop wearing worshippers trample close to several sea turtle nesting areas that had been taped off. In fact, one speaker stand was placed within a foot of a nest. 

“Did baby sea turtles like loud praise music?”, I wondered to myself.

I pressed a little more and suggested that the beach front was public and it seemed like a permit would be required. The friendly sound tech explained that 800-Gary owned the land and water from the corners of his lot all the way to the start of the international waters, but that he just let the public use his beach for free.  I was doubtful of this, but I was not looking for an argument. I went back toward the public access where my family was eagerly waiting to see what I had heard. I explained what I had been told. My wife immediately began talking about this Gary guy being able to take over the beach just because he was rich. She voiced concern that this would be a nightly occurrence during our one week of vacation. My 16-year-old daughter was exclaiming that this just was not right, convinced in the way that teenagers often are that something is either right or wrong. My 11-year-old daughter, however, was giddy with excitement! She loves a bit of drama!

On our trek across three southern states my daughters had heard me complaining about the billboards along the interstate. One read, “If you die in bed tonight, what will it be? Heaven or Hell?” Another one said, “Jesus is the ONLY way to God!”

Many of them proclaimed that Jesus is STILL the answer. We also talked openly about the numerous and large rebel flags, being flown over the interstate.  I talked openly about my feelings that these flags were meant to intimidate.

I ranted a bit about how Christians are always complaining about not being allowed to talk about God or Jesus, yet they are the only religion that I see advertising on billboards that it is their way or an eternity in hellfire!

Lyric, as my younger daughter is insisting is her new name, loves when anyone in the family gets wound up about something. She will push all the right buttons to wind things up even more. “Ooooooh, Mommy and Daddy are not going to like this!”, she exclaimed. Then gleefully adding, “They are going to be talking about Jesus over those speakers!” She was giggling and doing her best to stir the pot. As we were discussing the issue at hand, Lyric then said, “Here they come!” Two heavily tattooed guys were making their way along the beach handing out flyers inviting the public to participate in the worship service.

This is the part where I would normally express my opinion about public rights versus free speech rights to a couple of guys who probably could have cared less. They tentatively offered up the flyer and asked if we were interested in having information about the service. Before I could launch into my dissertation, Lyric announced loudly and happily, “Sure! We would love a flyer!” I had to smile at this. The tattooed men went on to explain how exciting it was that an “America’s Got Talent” star was going to be performing during the service. Lyric interrupted, “Is there going to be food involved in this?” Now my smile was approaching a laugh out loud moment. The tattooed guys said that they didn’t think so. Lyric replied, “Well, we will have to just think about it.” Now I was laughing. The two Christian soldiers seemed unsure what to make of us and proceeded down the beach to find better prospects.

My wife was relieved to see that the flyer said that the services would be held once a month. We would have “our beach” back for the rest of the week. Satisfied with this information, we skipped the sunset and the service and headed back to our vacation rental. We let go of our resentment toward the event organizers who were clearly happy in this moment sharing the “Good News” that they believe is theirs to spread.

We could return the next evening. G-d would put on his magic display again. He always does.