Responses to the Pentecostal jibber-jabberings of preacher and plagiarist Kenneth Hagin typically range from snickers to eye-rolling, but cast aside (out?) your preconceptions for a moment.  Strip away the possible, okay, PROBABLE cynicism lurking behind Hagin’s curtain, and what are we left with?  A group of people in a room HUNGRY FOR A WAY OUT—transcendence, beyond the limitations of mind, flesh, or state.  Seen in this (admittedly stripped-down) light, how much do Hagin’s communal fumblings towards ecstasy really differ from those of, say, Beck and Malina’s 60s-era Living Theatre?