(Continued...)

It's just a few hours before the Starbucks rally, and Reverend Billy and Savitri D. are driving over the Brooklyn Bridge in the 1983 Saab they received as a wedding gift. We talk about how the lines between reality and parody seem to be blurring all over the place. Sure The Daily Show started out as fake news, but it's a pretty good place to find out what happened on any given day.

"Our real leadership has been fake," says Reverend Billy. "The kind of person who has this haircut and wears this suit has been fake. I get to say, 'Let's make our way back to the real.'" He runs his hand through his hair, a mixture of peroxide tips, brown roots, and splashes of gray in his sideburns.

"It's sort of the anti-Christmas Christmas movie," says Spurlock. "Kind of 'It's not such a wonderful life'""Every major religion has been hijacked by its right wing," he says. "In the choir, we have Native Americans, Hindus, Catholics, Jews. We're all lapsed from organized religion, but we're still searching. People come to our church and shout 'Hallelujah!' for the first time in their lives."

Somewhat appropriately, the Church of Stop Shopping is housed in St. Mark's Church in the Bowery. They are an official non-profit with a budget of $125,000 a year, culled from ticket sales, donations, and grants. Church events can pack in 500 people. And after Morgan Spurlock's documentary is released nationally, that number will likely skyrocket.

It makes sense that Reverend Billy and Spurlock are drawn to each other—the thorn in the Mermaid's side and the David who got Goliath to stop super-sizing. "I lived in the East Village for years, and I'd see Reverend Billy performing on the street or being hauled out of Starbucks," explains Spurlock. "Then, two and a half years ago, I met Peter Hutchison, who he said he'd been shooting Reverend Billy. I saw the footage and thought that the way he deals with the issue, by giving it a little sense of humor, is really something great. I said, 'Sign me up.'"

What Would Jesus Buy? follows the church on a road trip from New York to California during the Christmas shopping frenzy in 2005, making stops at places like the Mall of America and Wal-Mart headquarters. Several members of the gospel choir quit their jobs to make the trek. "It's sort of the anti-Christmas Christmas movie," says Spurlock. "Kind of 'It's not such a wonderful life.'"

Their final destination: Christmas Day at Disneyland. "It was packed," says Savitri D. "They closed the window right in front of me and Billy. My heart stopped—we'd come all this way. But I knew there had to be a way to get in." They bought year-long Disney passes. "Giving Disney $500," laments Talen, "Now that's the ultimate sin."

In the middle of the Disneyland Christmas parade, Reverend Billy and the choir jumped in front of Mickey's float to sing a song called "What Would Jesus Buy?" Reverend Billy was arrested in the ruckus. (Disney revoked his yearly pass, too.)

A year after the Disneyland arrest, Reverend Billy takes a wooden podium out of the trunk of his Saab and slings it over his shoulder. It looks like he's carrying a cross as he marches purposefully toward Astor Place.

"I love Starbucks," says one woman, eyeing one of the anti-Starbucks signs.

"She's possessed," responds Reverend Billy.

We arrive at the Astor Place Cube and the choir begins to pass out flyers detailing the struggle of the Ethiopian coffee farmers. The press surrounds the Reverend, shoving recorders and cameras in his face. He offers each reporter a tightly-edited sound-bite—his deftness with the press has always been a driving force behind his success. "Are you going to perform?" one of the cameramen asks.

He steps behind the podium and begins his sermon, conjuring up some fire and brimstone. "See, that union-busting corporation Starbucks has a coffee called Ethiopia Sidamo," preaches the Reverend. "At the conclusion of this fabulous worship, we will walk across the street—to the valley of the shadow of death—and drive the demons out of that cash register." A police car pulls into view, lights flashing.

Reverend Billy leads the march across the street, the choir singing as they follow. "This town ain't no super/ This town ain't no super/ This town ain't no super maallll."

A 20-something man taps me on the shoulder and hands me a piece of paper. "Here is Starbucks' media statement," he says. I'd assumed the plainclothed man was just another observer. "At Starbucks, we support the recognition of the source of our coffees," reads the statement. "We look towards finding a solution that will protect, promote, and expand Ethiopian coffee exports, which in turn will provide increased incomes to Ethiopian farmers."

Reverend Billy pushes through Starbucks' double doors. The Stop Shopping Choir turns it up. "Push back/ Your latte's not my lover/ Push back/ I don't take slavery in my coffee." The customers stare, confused. Some whisper to each other, others laugh. The baristas in green aprons appear dumbfounded.

Several police officers stand at the counter, focusing intently on the Reverend as he walks to the front of the store. He puts one hand on a cash register, his other in the air, yelling, "Be gone evil!"

Two officers approach. Reverend Billy closes his eyes and ignores them. "Blow money to the Ethiopian coffee farmers," he says. The choir keeps singing.

The officers push Reverend Billy away from the register. He flops and then falls as the they shove him toward the door, his arms pinned. The choir follows, singing, "Push back/ I don't like slavery in my coffee."

"Boycott Starbucks!" he shouts, once forced outside. The police release him, but only for moment. Someone hands Reverend Billy a bullhorn. "We will be back every week to support the Ethiopian coffee farmers! Can I get a Change-elujah??"

The cops push through the crush of bodies. Reverend Billy puts his hands behind his back so they can cuff him, and with flashing lights, he's taken away. After the crowd disperses, a few reporters gather around Savitri D. who is picking up Billy's abandoned makeshift pulpit. "They won't keep him long," she says.

Three weeks later, Reverend Billy and Savitri D. are at home when they hear the news that Starbucks will "not oppose Ethiopia's efforts to obtain trademarks for its specialty coffees." The two aren't sure exactly what that means, but they think it might be a semi-victory. They call a rally for the following Sunday to thank Starbucks for backing down.

But Reverend Billy still has mixed feelings. "The fact is the coffee farmers are starving. This free trade economy doesn't get money to the people who do the work," he says. "I think we may be having some kind of an impact. Has it resulted in slowing down the Starbucks invasion? Possibly. Has it fed children in Ethiopia? Starbucks says they're increasing the amount of money they send. I've gone for years with less encouragement than that."

All Photos: Eric Harvey Brown

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