Pity the Fool

Thou Shalt Pity the Fool: Mr. T gets spiritual at Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren

It's Sunday night in the bustling lobby of Elgin's Community Church, and hundreds of clean-cut 20-somethings are asserting a pronouncement of profound benevolence.

They're voicing compassion for the world's less fortunate, but it's by repeating a sentiment not found in any Bible: "I pity the fool!"

Those weighty words, the "Whazzzzup?" or "You're fired!" of the mid-'80s, fill the air.

Why? Because Mr. T - née Lawrence Tureaud, later shortened to Tero, then simply T - is in the house.

But when he speaks to the crowd, he doesn't appear to be the Mr. T we all remember. The obligatory gold jewelry, the pounds and pounds of bling, are nowhere to be seen.

"When I'm in a house of God, I don't wear the jewelry," he explains softly. "If I were wearing my gold, I couldn't be humble. I want you all to see my heart of gold."

Bejeweled or not, Mr. T, 52, is indeed still pitying fools everywhere he goes. And tonight, Sept. 26, he's in Elgin to... well, we're not sure.

Many of tonight's packed house - Elgin officials says attendance is around 1,600 people - are certain that he's going to enlighten them with a very spiritual message.

"He's a Christian, and he's been in Hollywood for 20 years," explains Joel Kline. "And he's battled cancer, too."

Others, well, they're here more for the camp value than anything else.

"We're big Mr. T fans," says Round Lake Beach's Jason Mount, who's holding a Mr. T doll that says "I pity the fool!" when Mount pulls the string on the back. "We're here to see the T!"

Pitiful fools

After an intro that features a band playing Survivor's stale "Eye of the Tiger," Mr. T walks onstage wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt, navy blue warm-up pants and sandals with white socks.

"Thank you so much," he says, in a voice not much above a whisper and holding a large Bible above his head. "I'm so glad to be here."

Wait - huh? Who is this low-key guy who seems to be inhabiting Mr. T's body?

Yes, he's got the muscles and the mohawk. But this man's T-shirt asks, "Got Jesus?" And a simple cross hangs from his neck on a necklace of wooden beads.

Joel Kline and Mr. T sit down and begin an earnest discussion about the Lord. Turns out, Mr. T has a lot on his mind, and most of it has to do with Jesus.

"Lord, I ask that you hide my face so my words can be heard," Mr. T says. "Tonight, we want to heal some hearts."

Whoa. Where's the "Cut the jibba-jabba, fool!" or "Better watch out, sucker!"?

This is like going to see Metallica in concert and watching them put down their electric guitars and start playing Gordon Lightfoot songs.

The clean-cut crowd stares at Mr. T spellbound, hanging on his every word. He talks about growing up in Chicago's Robert Taylor Homes, being one of 12 children and his adoration for his mother.

"I'm a big, tough, overgrown momma's boy," he says proudly.

The crowd laughs and cheers. The whole spectacle seems somewhat, well, odd.

After all, Mr. T's last movie was 2001's "Judgment," also known as "Apocalypse IV: Judgment." Not exactly "Spider-Man 2."

Yes, he was in "Rocky III," and "D.C. Cab" and of course, he was Bosco Albert "B.A." Baracus on the famed "The A-Team." But this was a long, long time ago.

The average age at Highland Avenue looks to be about 26, and "The A-Team" went off the air in 1987. So, in Mr. T's prime they were what - 8? 9? Are they really interested in his thoughts on religion? Or is this just a chance to see a celebrity?

Pity = compassion

Mr. T doesn't take long to warm up, and soon the low-key persona is gone. Talking about salvation gets him quite worked up, and he commandeers the microphone and leads the crowd like a preacher addressing his flock.

"These hands can break a brick, but at the same time I can go to a hospital and hold a little baby!" he says.

"God will never leave you," he says. "If you believe, everything will come to pass."

Mr. T eventually turns to his cancer diagnosis, which came in 1995.

"It shook me, it rocked me to my core, and it knocked me to my knees," he says. "But then I realized: What a great place to be, to pray."

Mr. T invokes the name of Jacob, the biblical character who wrestled with an angel, and the famously troubled Job.

Then, he finally explains what he meant by constantly decreeing that he pitied the fool. It turns out he didn't mean I pity you because your foolishness makes it inevitable that I will physically harm you.

Rather, his pity is a somewhat Christian message - albeit tinged with violent overtones: "You see, it allows me to pity fools and not beat them up," he says. "If someone cuts me off on the freeway, I just say, 'I pity him,' and then I'm done with it."

When his hourlong talk ends, the adoring throng treats Mr. T to a standing ovation.

He is the bomb

Afterward, Mr. T chats for a few moments before patiently signing hundreds of autographs.

He stands the whole time: "I can't sit down - I'm too excited to sit!" he says. "I got too much energy to sit!"

He talks about living in Lake Forest and the famous incident in which he cut down more than 100 trees on his property.

"A white man came up to me and said, 'I cut down trees all the time,'æ" he explains. "It was just because I'm black. And the same people who said I couldn't do that, they live in wooden houses."

Then he heads back upstairs to sign autographs for the hundreds of people waiting for him.

Mr. T knows how to handle the crowd: He shakes hands, poses for pictures and reacts good-naturedly when a woman suddenly reaches up and rubs his mohawk.

"See, it's good to have a short name," he says, signing as many autographs as he can. "If my name was Engelbert Humperdinck, we'd be here all night!"

Jill Schroeder of Algonquin hands him her cell phone with her friend Ray at the other end.

"Why aren't you in church?" he growls into the phone with mock anger.

The signing goes on and on, and Mr. T shows no sign of complaining.

"You were the bomb in 'D.C. Cab!'æ" yells Steve Mravik of Elgin.

"Thank you, thank you very much!" Mr. T replies.

The line between Christianity and celebrity seems to have blurred here, yet the crowd seems to have taken away nothing but goodness from Mr. T's talk.

"I don't know where God is in my life, and he sent me the message that I should look further," says Kristin Kiefer of Elk Grove Village. "He was really inspirational."

Behind her, Mr. T continues to strike poses for cameras, shake hands and offer thanks to the Lord.

"We met Mr. T!" Mravik says, high-fiving his friend Lauren Greeno.

"It was awesome!" she agrees. "It really was. He was really full of love."

Agrees Manning: "He delivered a message of humility and putting God first," she says.

"And pitying the fool!" comes a lone voice behind her.

And pitying the fool, indeed.