From the “Straight Talk” section of The Cape Cod Voice, May 2008.
By Seth Rolbein
The word is like a dagger, sharp and scary, used to stab:
Cult.
And it’s been invoked many times over the years when conversations arise about three groups on Cape Cod, completely different religious organizations, linked only by questions about whether that loaded word applies:
The Community of Jesus, based in a multi-million-dollar compound along Cape Cod Bay in Orleans, has faced decades of questions about how it treats and controls its hundreds of members.
The Twelve Tribes, with a homey-hippie restaurant called “Common Ground” on Main Street in Hyannis and a smaller compound of its own on the east end of town, is part of an international movement that harkens back to “Old Testament morality,” while members live in versions of Sixties-era communes—and face down charges that they must surrender control of their finances and sever links to their pasts.
Victory Chapel, an evangelical church with its local base in Hyannis as well, whose zealous members have been known to take to the streets to espouse their strong religious views on everything from homosexuality to abortion, championing their charismatic minister as the true purveyor of God’s word.
Are these “cults,” with all the negative connotations implied?
We look at all three, explore their beliefs and practices, and then trust you to draw your own conclusions.
From the very beginning, challenging questions rise up fast and furious:
What distinguishes “cults” from “religions” we accept, like Roman Catholicism, Mormonism, or even Unitarian Universalism—each with its own kind of zealotry, and at times its own scandals? How about Alcoholics Anonymous, with its clannish meetings and talk about surrendering to a Higher Power; is it a cult? How about other secretive organizations like the Masons, or even college fraternities and sororities; are they cults?
Is even raising the question a form of bigotry and intolerance? Doesn’t our constitution enshrine the belief that people should be able to practice whatever religion they desire? But does that mean that people who are drawn into what some see as an unhealthy subculture, victimized perhaps, should be ignored?
Those who have spent their professional careers studying these kinds of questions respond, in turn, with questions of their own. It’s an old therapist tactic, but turns out to be a good way of drawing important distinctions. For example:
Who is the leader of this group, what are his or her qualifications, and is that person a supreme authority figure, with a unique pipeline to Truth?
Are people enticed into the group under false pretenses? Do they need to abandon their former lives, friends, families—and money—to join? When they do, are they sequestered, shut off from other perspectives, exposed to repetitive messages or even abusive discipline to keep them “focused” on the group itself? Must they surrender decision-making about their own futures?
Is the organization open to scrutiny, socially and financially? Are members allowed to socialize with “outsiders”? Are they allowed to talk about problems, or concerns, without becoming “traitors”? Are they asked to cover for higher-ups, ignore or condone ugly or unscrupulous behavior?
Are there secrets within the group, those who know and those who don’t, those favored and those craving favor? Are people told that if they leave, it’s very likely they’ll fall apart, lose God’s blessing, become sad, degenerate souls? Are they made to feel powerless without the group to support and guide them?
Few organizations—not even the infamous “Moonies” of Reverend Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church, or the Hare Krishna sect that used to be so visible in airports with their saffron robes, mesmerizing chants, and upturned palms—would turn up on the wrong side of everyone of these questions. Then again, plenty of groups we all know and respect might offer troubling responses to a few of them as well.
That’s why Steve Hassan, a therapist based in the Boston area who has been counseling people caught up in controlling groups for decades (himself a former “Moonie”), says that “in the past 10 years, I’ve tried to shift away from using that term, ‘cult,’ and instead try to put things in a continuum of healthy versus unhealthy, more or less democratic, more or less egalitarian.
“Outsiders will look at a leader and say, ‘Con man! Con woman!’ But in my experience, it’s not so cut and dry ... It’s not, ‘Ho ho ho, let’s create a shell and convince people of something to make money.’ It’s more like, ‘I know God is working through me, so I’ll rely on my revelations or visions to get what needs to be done.’
“But it is a truism with destructive cults that they don’t like any kind of publicity they can’t control. So if a group is legitimate, it will stand up to scrutiny. If there are controversies, the leadership will need to rise up, be as accountable and transparent as possible.
“I advocate a consumer awareness perspective, without making people intolerant or bigoted against people in ‘cults.’ I look at them as victims. The last thing people should do is call them names, or throw things at them.”
Well and good. But if that’s the last thing people should do, then perhaps the second-to-last thing would be to pretend that controversial, influential, tightly controlled, even secretive subcultures don’t exist among us. They do, and they shouldn’t use religion as a cloak to hide from (or smother) questions.
We’d hoped these three groups, each subject of much concern over the years, would welcome explorations like ours. That wasn’t always the case, unfortunately, but once again, the broad brush doesn’t apply. Nuances and context are crucial, and fill the stories that follow.
And those instruments have a better chance of striking to the truth than a dagger.
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