Fanatics, Nuts, & Weirdoes: A Walk on the Wild Side of Religion

http://homepages.ius.edu/RVEST/Rel100.htm

Fanatics, Nuts, and Weirdos: A Walk on the Wild Side of Religion

By Rob Vest The focus of this paper is not to validate one religion over another, but to illustrate, through personal accounts, how various belief systems are perceived through the eyes of a nonbelieiver. Sometimes these encounters can be uncomfortable, but often they're just humorous. Let's start with the Jehovah's Witnesses. Formed in the late 19th century by Charles Taze Russell, the Witnesses were originally a Christian 'doomsday cult' who believed Judgement Day would come in 1914. When that year (and many more) passed without the return of Christ, the religious leaders downplayed the apocalyptic aspects of their faith and began concentrating on increasing their membership. [Bach, 115-119] Now the Witnesses are best known for spreading their faith door-to-door like traveling salesmen, a practice that many non-Witnesses find particularly annoying. Thus, these "Witness victims" often develop various tactics to deal with these unwanted visitors. The easiest way out is refusing to answer the door. This is only partially effective, as you can bet they'll return another day. Arguing with them over doctrine and Biblical interpretation isn't very effective either, as converting them is rather unlikely. Besides, those methods are rather boring and uncreative. Some of the more interesting strategies have been utilized by my father. He's told them, "I'm a sinner and I love sinning and I'm bound for Hell and I just don't give a damn!" On their next visit, he let the dog chase them. The Witnesses fled to their car and jumped on top of it, thinking they were safe, but their canine pursuer quickly jumped up after them, convincing them to get in the car and leave. Another Kodak moment arrived when some Witnesses roused him out of bed one sunny afternoon (he worked third shift at the time) and he answered the door. One of the shocked Witnesses replied, "Uh... We'll come back some other time" and the invaders left. The reason they left so quickly was that my father had the habit of sleeping in the nude and didn't bother dressing before getting the door! My aunt, however, has probably found the best solution to the "Witness problem" short of violence: She greeted them with "Well, come on in! I'm a Devil-worshiper, and I'd just love to share my faith with you!" They haven't returned since, and now all Jehovah's Witnesses cross to the other side of the street when approaching her house! Televangelists are another interesting group. Though not a united faith per se, nearly all have one thing in common (aside from their use of television as a pulpit): a lust for money. A friend of mine described a visit to a Jimmy Swaggert performance he witnessed years ago, before Swaggert's downfall.
As soon as my butt hit the seat, he announced that he [Swaggert] 'needed' donations for his ministry. He told us that those who gave $50 or more would receive a bible with his name printed on it in gold letters. Half an hour later, after many donations, he stated that for those who couldn't afford $50, buckets would be passed around. Fifteen minutes later, his little granddaughter came out and sang with him - nice touch. About an hour later, we were hurried out the door. What a sham. [Paul Stratton, letter to author, January 1997]

Pat Robertson is another well-known televangelist who seems to worship the mighty dollar. For example, every 700 Club broadcast features Pat begging for more cash to fund his ministry, yet some estimates place his net worth at 140 million! [Anti-Pat Robertson/ Christian Coalition Site] What I find most humorous about Pat, however, is his sensationalism. From direct commands from God (such as his failed bid for the Republican Presidential nomination) to healing people over the airwaves, Robertson's theatrics seem unlimited. More than three years ago I happened to catch a particularly entertaining episode of the 700 Club which dealt with one of Satan's plans to take over the world. Halloween was fast approaching, and Pat and his minions were sending out warnings to good Christians everywhere. Pat delivered the usual sermon on the pagan origins of All-Hallow's Eve, while dramatic re-creations of Druidic sacrifices danced across the screen. He also emphasized that this seemingly harmless holiday was part of Satan's plot to lure mankind into damnation. Never mind that Christmas and Easter also have pagan roots - Pat and his cronies would never admit that mainstream Christianity could be a tool of the Devil. At the end of the show, Robertson gave out a toll-free number which one could call to receive two free pamphlets, one on the dangers of Halloween and the other detailing the evils of the New Age movement. Intrigued, I decided to order these pieces of 700 Club propaganda.

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An elderly woman answered the phone and I proceeded to give her my address. Meanwhile, she was coughing up a storm, and I silently wondered why Pat had not yet healed her. After all, he makes such a big display of healing people of such ailments as cancer through their television sets. One would think that a face-to-face healing for the common cold would be a simple thing to arrange. Perhaps such healings aren't included in the 700 Club employees' benefits package. Therefore, I decided to keep my mouth shut on this matter, as I sensed that such healings could be a sensitive issue. A week later I received the pamphlets, along with a letter requesting contributions so Pat could continue his charitable work. I received similar requests for funds for the next six months. I assume the letters stopped because I never sent money. I figured Pat could cover my share, seeing as he's the one who's a multimillionaire. Though most of my experiences with religious fanaticism have been humorous, there was one encounter wherein I felt downright violated. I was a sophomore in high school, and one week several students were passing out flyers for a "Pizza Pig-Out" their church was hosting Friday evening after school. My friends and I weren't about to pass up an all-you-can-eat free pizza fest, so Friday evening Brad, Mike, his brother Dan, and I headed down to the church, intent on indulging our gluttonous souls. The fact that it was held at a place of worship didn't bother my friends because Mike and Dan often attended church with their family, while Brad, though not a regular church goer, did have a strong religious streak. I, being agnostic at the time, really didn't care, because there was going to be free food. We finally arrived at the church, and were overwhelmed at the sheer number of kids who were in the parking lot. Graceland's teen agents must have infiltrated every high school and junior high school in Floyd, Clark, and Harrison counties. The turnout was apparently bigger than the church expected. So big, in fact, that each of us ended up with only two measly slices of pizza. We were really ticked at this point. After everyone had received their requisite two slices, we were herded inside the church for a little sermon, a detail which the aforementioned flyer had failed to mention. Our escape was prevented by a cadre of Graceland-attending adults who had secured the parking lot's perimeter. I was the only member of our group who didn't want to go inside. Even if I had managed to escape, I still would have had to walk home, as Mike was the one who drove us there. Consigned to my fate, I followed my friends inside. The sanctuary of Graceland resembled something akin to what one would see on the 700 Club, Praise the Lord, or nearly any other televangelical television program, with hundreds of pews, a huge lighted stage, an organ, and a grand piano. A bad taste began to form in my mouth. What followed was one of the biggest loads of bovine dung I've ever heard. The focus of the sermon was Satan's plan to lead today's youth into eternal torment by seducing us with rock n' roll, with particular emphasis on heavy metal. Being a big metal fan at the time (my friends listened to country and 'soft rock'), I was torn between laughter and rage. The two preachers giving the sermon were quoting passages from a book called God of Rock, which "exposed" the various Satanic links of several rock artists. For example, the letters in the band AC/DC stood for "AntiChrist/ Devil Child." Similarly, the band members of Kiss were "Knights in Satan's service." I later borrowed God of Rock from a friend, and found it filled with similar drivel. After the first preacher spouted off for a while, the second one took the stage and related a touching story about his young daughter's close call with death, and how she was saved by the power of prayer. Whether this was a true tale or pure Graceland propaganda, I wasn't sure, but I was willing to bet the later. Preacher Number Two then proceeded to sing us a little song he had written about this alleged experience. This horrid song was a perfect example of inspirational music without inspiration, and only served to strengthen my faith in rock n' roll. Preacher Number One then returned and bade us bow our heads. As we sat with our heads bowed, he asked everyone who knew they were saved to raise their hands. Next, he asked those who were not sure of their salvation to do the same. He followed this request with a long-winded prayer. Afterward, the plate was passed so we students could give what little hard-earned money we had to Jesus. Needless to say, I didn't give them a cent. After many of my fellow teens were bled dry, the lights were dimmed and we were treated to the spectacle of several other kids being baptized by Preacher Number Two. When the last kid had been dunked, the lights returned to their former brightness, the organ started cranking, and Preacher Number One asked everyone who raised their hands the second time to come up front and get saved. I then realized how good these guys were, because several kids were going up there. I was stunned at how willing those kids were to buy such a load of trash. It made more sense to me that someone as smart as Satan would spread his corruption through religion rather than something as trivial as rock n' roll. Before setting us free, Preacher Number one told us how we could return the next week to get baptized, and where we could get God of Rock. Upon returning to Mike's car, I

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told my friends what a crock of defecation the whole experience was. Mike responded with, "Oh you know you were getting into it, man!" I felt sorry for my friends, then, because they were too blind to see that we'd been suckered. The previous encounters have dealt with more mainstream religions. But I've also had a few run-ins with the fringe. Five years ago I was in Orlando, Florida visiting some friends from college. My first day in town, my friend Dean and I decided to get some beer from the large grocery store across the street from his apartment. While walking through the store parking lot, I noticed two very attractive girls in dresses placing flyers on the cars. Shortly thereafter, they spotted us and approached. The older girl, who couldn't have been more than 19, handed us one of the flyers, depicting a haloed Jesus with several scantily-clad people flying toward a floating pyramid (I've included a copy of this flyer, as well as other Family literature, at the end of this paper). The girl said "Hi! We're from the family and we were wondering if you had any money you could donate to our ministry." My friend and I refused their requests for money and proceeded into the store. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I could have sworn that I'd heard of this "Family" before. A week later, back home in Indiana, I remembered why this group sounded so familiar. I quickly dug through my back issues of Hustler magazine and pulled out an issue from 1980, which contained an article on this group. It seems "the Family" is short for "the Family of Love" (formerly known as the Children of God), a bizarre Christian cult which, among more mundane things such as missionary work, engages in a practice termed "flirty fishing" by their late founder David Berg (AKA Moses David). In other words, using sex as a tool to gain money and/ or converts. Members often refer to themselves privately as "hookers for Jesus," or "flirty fishes" - the bait that Berg - the "fisherman" - would use to catch men's souls [Hill, 71] Needless to say, I was quite angry with myself for not recognizing the cult's name sooner. I would have gladly given either of those girls the opportunity to "save my soul!" However, this could have been risky, as STDs seem to be rather common among its members. [Hill, 89] My desire for a different kind of religious experience may also have been rejected, because in 1987 flirty fishing was abolished due to the rapid spread of STDs [Children of God-Family of Love-the Family web site] or "the need to spend more time in other forms of outreach" [The Family's home page]. Despite this practice being halted, reports of flirty fishing surface to this day. [No Real Changes in "Children of God" Cult web site] Reportedly many of those currently being "fished" are top government officials in several countries. [Ibid] Oddly enough, in 1993, the Family Choir performed at the White House! [The Family's home page] Though it's probably for the best that I didn't ask those girls to convert me, there's still a part of me that wants to kick myself. The final religious encounter I'll relate here involves a completely non-Christian faith - Wicca. Also known as "modern witchcraft," Wicca was founded by Englishman Gerald Gardner in 1954. Based on ancient traditions of folklore and pagan fertility cults, Wicca centers around celebrating the cycle of life. Worship of a "mother goddess" and a "horned god" of nature, at lunar and seasonal celebrations are important aspects in Wiccan practice. The entire philosophy of this faith is found in the Wiccan Rede: "Do as thou whilst. And ye harm none." This applies not only to other people, but to all life. [Merlyn] More than five years ago, I became a participant in a Wiccan ceremony. I was at a medieval re-enactment event in Pennsylvania called the Pennsic War. Pennsic is similar to a two-week Renaissance fair, only with all-night booze fests and eight thousand people sprawled across a huge campground. One night at Pennsic, my friend Mike and I were roaming across the campground with a large group of people. We were questing for booze, singing television theme songs, and generally acting obnoxious. While singing a rousing version of "The Flintstones," we made our way to the battlefield, where we stumbled upon a few hundred people engaged in a Wiccan moonlight ceremony, all holding hands in a very large circle. The reaction we received from the participants was not very favorable, so we stopped singing. One of the guys with us then joined the circle, which soon led to the rest of us doing the same, seemingly on a lark. What followed was similar to a church service, with singing, chanting, passing a cup of wine, and listening to the high priestess talk. Mike stood three people to my left, next to a woman in a wheelchair. About 20 minutes later, this circle consisting of hundreds of people started moving clockwise, and then twisting inward into what I imagined to be some kind of weird spiral pattern. The battlefield was a huge, un-level, grassy field, filled with ruts, rocks, small holes, and other hazards. I saw that Mike was ahead of me, pushing the woman in the wheelchair. A sense of dread began to envelop me. Everyone continued singing as the circle picked up speed. When we got to the point where we were practically running, the

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woman's wheelchair became snagged on something. In a matter of seconds, the circle became a complete mess. The people ahead of Mike had broken ahead, while he struggled valiantly to free the woman's wheelchair. Meanwhile, people began piling up behind us. Images getting trampled into hamburger like an attendee at a Who concert began to fill my mind. Finally, Mike was able to free the woman, but by now the "Great Circle of Life" bore more resemblance to a mutant sperm cell. A few minutes later, the high priestess stopped the circle and we all crashed to the ground. The following moments were rather unmemorable, consisting of more sermons and singing, and reminded me of a long, boring church service. Mike and I had experienced about all we could stand of the Wiccan faith by then, so we soon left to resume our quest for booze. In closing, I'd like to state that though some of the criticisms in this paper may be harsh, such criticisms are merely one person's opinion, and should not be taken to mean that I feel the same about everyone affiliated with that particular faith or church. Good and bad people and doctrines are found in every religion, from modern Christianity to primitive tribal cults. Despite the fact that I've encountered some of the bad in my lifetime, I still cherish those memories, as I consider them vital to forming my own opinion on religion in general.
Bibliography: Bach, Marcus (1961). Strange Sects and Curious Cults. New York, NY: Dodd, Mead and Company Hill, George (1980). Family of Love: Religious Sex Cult. Hustler Magazine, Volume 6 Number 9, 70-76, 86, 89, 98. The Family (1997). The Family - an International Christian Fellowship Children of God - Family of Love - The Family No Real Changes in the "Children of God" Cult [online] Available: http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/countercog/html/countercog_news_12.html The Anti-Pat Robertson/ Christian Coalition Site Merlyn. Roots of Our Religion Part I: Gardnerian Wicca Related Links: Graceland Baptist Church Rock Music: The Devil's Advocate Watchtower Bible and Tract Society, AKA Jehovah's Witnesses

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