by William Poe
“Where have you been all day?” I asked.
“I stayed at the new house last night.”
“But you’ll attend the lecture with me tonight, won’t you?”
“Can’t. I’m supposed to hear the last talk this evening. It’s called the conclusion lecture. They only give it at the new house. But,” he said, as if betraying a confidence, “I already know what they’re going to say.”
“What?” I asked, totally perplexed.
Stanley acted as if I should have known what he was talking about. He hung up without responding.
Jewell replaced the needle on the Wishbone Ash song. I caught lyrics about a “prophet” along with others describing “signs in the sand.” The song reminded me of the message from my acid trip: He is coming on the clouds and every eye will see Him.
The house was empty when I arrived, so I sat on the porch steps and puffed on a joint that I had taken from Jake’s coffee table. At precisely eight o’clock, the One World Crusade van rolled up, deposited Randall and Mary, and then sped away. It seemed these people were always in a hurry.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Randall said, reaching out to grasp my hand.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Mary jumped in at that point, saying a bit ominously, “Evil forces try to prevent people from returning.”
I didn’t believe in “evil” but wasn’t in a mood to challenge her. The joint had been potent, and I was self-conscious being around people who didn’t partake of weed.
Randall cracked a window to let in some fresh air as Mary prepared to lecture. Before starting, she bowed her head to pray. I practiced meditation, and her prayer, which she uttered aloud, seemed almost Christian by invoking a “heavenly father.” I braced myself for whatever was in store. I still worried that this might be a front for the same group Tony had met, the Jesus People. If that turned out to be true, I was prepared to storm out the door.
“I know this is a new experience for you,” Mary said, touching my arm. “But prayers aren’t so different from the chants you recite with Stanley.”
More information Stanley had provided.
“Stanley didn’t know how to approach you when he first started coming over.”
“All he said was, ‘I’ve found it.’ I still don’t know what he meant. Nothing I’ve heard seems that unusual.”
Mary smiled. “Tonight’s lecture might surprise you.”
“Then let’s get on with it.”
At the beginning of her talk, Mary suggested the actual existence of angels. “They are much like us,” she explained, “except that angels have always existed and never possessed a physical body. What makes us different is that our ‘spirit body’ comes into existence when we are born and continues after we die. Humans can interact with angels through our spirit bodies.”
I soon learned why that mattered.
“God gave young Adam and Eve one important commandment, which didn’t involve apples,” Mary smiled benignly. She expected me to be amused, but I had never found anything about the Genesis story credible, not only the idea that an all-powerful God would care a hoot about what its children ate, but also the idea that humanity came about through a process of spontaneous generation. I was taking anthropology, after all, and could find nothing arguable about Darwin’s explanation that complex life-forms evolved through natural selection. I had not yet succeeded in reconciling my own beliefs about the human soul with Darwinism; I simply allowed that our minds, so different from those of other animals, had a cosmic connection to eternity.
Mary’s expression grew seriousness. Again, it seemed as though she could read my mind. “God set the universe in motion so that human life would come into existence. Adam and Eve were the first creatures born with a physical and a spiritual body. That is the meaning of God granting them the breath of life. Adam and Eve were to be the embodiment of God in the physical and spiritual universe.
“The angel Lucifer, chief among the purely spiritual beings, was to instruct Adam and Eve in the ways of God. The only commandment, which Lucifer knew quite well, stated that Adam and Eve must abstain from having sex until they individually reached perfection. Realization of true parental love depended on their obedience.
“Lucifer grew jealous, believing that if Adam and Eve attained oneness with God, they would supplant him as the being closest to God. He decided to show God that he was worthy of being His son, not just His servant. Lucifer set out to replace Adam by seducing Eve, overwhelming her with his knowledge of the universe. Eve fell in love.
“Remember that, to Eve, Lucifer was as tangible as Adam. When Lucifer approached her, the sexual contact between their spiritual bodies formed a powerful bond. After the event, Eve realized that Adam was her intended spouse, not Lucifer. She thought that joining with Adam would restore the proper order intended by God. She and Adam had illicit sex.
“Adam and Eve immediately recognized their violation of the supreme commandment. Sin destroyed their connection to God. Lucifer became Satan, lord of this fallen universe. God is cut off from his creation until true Adam and Eve can be restored.”
In some cosmic, perhaps metaphorical, way the lecture made sense. The church father, Irenaeus, would have agreed with Mary that a young Adam and Eve having sex before they reached maturity was the root of original sin. Jewish mystical traditions suggested that Eve had sex with Satan and bore Cain. So, combining Irenaeus with Jewish mysticism, and throwing in a touch of Taoism, one ended up with Mary’s interpretation. I was impressed with the creative mixing of ancient traditions; ignorant, because my youthful reading had provided mere exposure to theology, that a pastiche offers nothing profound or original.
Mary continued, “Sex between Eve and the angel constituted the spiritual fall. Sex between Eve and Adam brought the physical fall. Adam and Eve did not bear children capable of becoming one with God; they bore children who reflected Satan’s jealous, self-centered nature. We live in the devil’s world, a Kingdom of Hell.”
A cold chill went through my body.
“Since the Fall of Man,” Mary added, “God has prepared the way for a new Adam and Eve to establish the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus was the second Adam.”
Mary’s statement reminded me of my perennial question, which I posed to her. “It never made sense to me that Jesus should have died. Was that really the plan?”
“God wanted Jesus to take a wife and create the first True Family,” Mary explained. “Since people didn’t accept him, he gave his life to atone for their sin of denial. A third Adam must appear. To prepare, we live celibate lives. Eventually, members will receive the blessing of holy marriage and become Adam and Eve in their own lineages. We call that becoming a True Parent.”
Mary held out her hand. “That’s enough for now. Let me caution you. Tonight, Satan will do everything in his power to keep you from hearing the conclusion lecture.”
When I felt Randall’s hand touch my shoulder, I began to weep. I couldn’t explain it, except that something felt right about what I had heard.
What had I hoped to discover through all my reading of esoteric literature and experimentation with hallucinogens, if not to find personal happiness and understand how to create a better world? That was the goal of this One World Crusade. Perhaps these people held the answer to why I struggled with sexuality.
I had promised to take Vivian to Easter service at Immanuel Baptist Church. Derek and Connie decided to come along. In recent months, Derek had had some sort of falling out with the Nazarene church and left his parents’ faith to become a Methodist. Connie could not have been happier. For years, she had forced herself to maintain the dowdy appearance of a Nazarene. Now she had come back to life, a veritable Nefertiti, with ratted hair, crimson lipstick, eye shadow, and false eyelashes. As Methodists, they had both become less judgmental toward my hippie lifestyle.
Except for the niceties required of brothers-in-law, Derek and I rarely spoke. On Easter morning, he brought a newly pregnant Connie
and their daughter Cheryl to the mansion for breakfast. Derek scrutinized me intently while finishing a stack of pancakes. After pouring molasses on the last morsel and gobbling it down, he joined me in the kitchen. “Is something going on?” he asked.
I was waiting for a slice of sourdough to brown in the toaster oven.
“Well?” Derek probed.
“I’m attending lectures about some spiritual stuff,” I said obliquely.
Derek nearly choked as he gently set down his coffee cup. “Not my hippie brother-in-law!”
He joined Connie at the sink. She’d just brought in Lenny’s dishes from the den, where he had taken his breakfast on a tray so he could remain sitting in his chair. The odor of Lenny’s after-meal cigarette followed her. Derek whispered into Connie’s ear. She smiled in my direction.
When it was time to leave, Vivian called to Lenny, “Are you sure you won’t come along?”
“Not with my goddamn heart!” Lenny hollered back.
He wasn’t the least concerned about the effects of his cigarettes, but attending church was too risky.
The Easter service was as boring as I remembered from childhood. When the bald pastor announced the resurrection, a couple of overweight deacons dressed as Roman soldiers rolled a Styrofoam boulder from the poorly disguised baptismal fount. It was hard not to laugh.
“What if the Jews had believed in Jesus and let him live?” I once asked my Sunday school teacher. “What would have happened then?” The teacher accused me of blasphemy.
Mary had explained it. Jesus was supposed to live and marry. His descendants should have been around us today. I felt vindicated.
Monday morning, I telephoned Randall. The algebra exam for which I had barely studied wasn’t until the afternoon. I wanted to hear another lecture far more than to review solutions for complex fractions.
“We’re too busy to teach you today,” Randall said.
A voice spoke in my head, and it wasn’t one of the better angels.
“How about tomorrow morning?” Randall suggested. “We can take the entire day.”
“I have classes tomorrow.”
“You need to decide which is more important,” Randall warned.
I considered that this might be a test and said, “Sorry, Randall. I’ll come by after my first class, about eleven. Is that okay?”
“Don’t let anything stop you. Satan doesn’t want you to hear the conclusion.”
After leaving the algebra class with the dim feeling that I had managed to pass the exam, I went to Jake’s. Mojo had scored some acid, and everyone was high. Jewell had gone to her parents’ house for Easter and had not yet returned. Demons and Wizards, and then Black Sabbath, played on the stereo. I wished I had stayed in Sibley, in the quiet of my room.
My morning class on Tuesday was physical anthropology, with the assignment that day to measure casts of Homo habilis. As I held a plaster skull in my hand and used a caliper to gauge the width of the eye sockets, I wondered if it represented a decrepit descendant of Adam, ruined by sin into becoming a half-wit creature. Finishing my task, I quickly went to the sink to wash off the dust. I knew it was only plaster, but still.
After class, I drove to the new center. The white frame house had little to differentiate it from the other Depression-era houses on the block. Only the yard, lined by well-trimmed junipers and a stone path that led from the street to a screened-in porch, set it apart. When I arrived at the door, a young man around my age and height with flowing brown hair and dark eyes greeted me.
“You here for lectures?” the young man asked. “Name’s Jim. I’m hearing the conclusion lecture this afternoon.” He ran his fingers along my arm until he reached my elbow.
Mary was just coming downstairs. “I’m glad you made it,” she said. “So many people say they’ll return, but we never see them again.”
“Like I told you, I keep my word.”
Mary smiled. “You’re one of the chosen, Simon. That’s obvious.”
Mojo had once used that word, chosen.
People approached from all areas of the house to greet me. Some came from the kitchen, untying aprons and rubbing their hands on towels before shaking my hand. Several disheveled women descended the stairs. They brightened when they saw me, each taking my hand as if welcoming a long-lost brother.
These “family members,” as they called each other, were dressed in the same modest way as when I had seen them handing out flyers on campus. The women kept their blouses buttoned to the neck and wore dresses that reached to their knees. The men were clean-shaven, with short hair, slacks, and casual shirts. My linen pullover was open to the navel, and my jeans hung low around my waist. If Jim had not been dressed even more informally, I would have felt like going home to change clothes. Jim was practically naked in a tie-dyed T-shirt cut off at the tits with short pants skimpier than most swimming trunks. I had noticed his muscular legs when he came to the door. Now I realized that he was barefoot. Jim and I provided stark contrast to the demure family members.
I began to feel increasingly uneasy, because of the way I was dressed, but more so because I found myself attracted to Jim. I wasn’t there to be tempted; I was there to learn about the group’s spiritual teachings. Stanley provided some relief when he came into the room. He fit right in with the crusader family members, always a person to dress rather monk-like. His long red hair and beard were the main attributes that distinguished him as a guest.
During our short but intense friendship, Stanley had been emotionally distant. The person before me now grinned hugely as he squeezed me in a bear hug.
Mary led us into a lecture hall. The high ceiling allowed the spring breezes coming through the sheer curtains to keep the air circulating. Family members formed a circle. Mary, who clearly held seniority, asked the group to join hands.
“We sing before eating lunch,” Stanley said, taking my hand.
“We?” I said.
“Singing helps keep our spirits high,” he reiterated.
I refused to hold hands. Mary moved down the line and clasped my fingers. “Keep an open heart,” she said. “Don’t resist the spirit.”
We sang familiar hymns, starting with “In the Garden.” The lyrics had meant nothing to me as a boy. That day, emotions got the better of me.
I’d stay in the garden with Him
Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe,
His voice to me is calling.
Stanley put his hand on my shoulder. Randall grasped my other shoulder. Then Jim came to hug me. As he approached, I felt physically ill from conflicting desires.
“I have to go home,” I said.
Stanley, not at all understanding that I needed to leave because of my attraction to Jim, peered deeply into my eyes and said, “You are home, Simon.”
It seemed as though God and Lucifer were standing in front of me. And what was I thinking? I wanted to violate the commandment and bed down the Angel of Light.
CHAPTER 16
Family members returned to the center for a lunch of bologna sandwiches and Fritos corn chips. A noticeable sense of urgency accompanied their activities. These people sacrificed for their beliefs. Unlike the bejeweled women in mink stoles and expensively suited men who attended Immanuel Baptist Church, none of these brothers and sisters had a penny to his or her name, yet each of them beamed with richness of spirit.
Many prepared to go out again as soon as they had finished eating. Some took stacks of the familiar flyers with them. Others filled empty buckets with bouquets of carnations wrapped in green wax paper. Stanley surprised me by joining these “fundraisers,” as someone called them. He propped a bucket on his hip and sauntered confidently toward the door.
“Pay close attention today,” Stanley said. “Everything builds toward the last lecture.”
Randall called Jim from upstairs. He had gone to change into a long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans. It occurred to me that Mary had noticed
my earlier reaction and told him to change. I felt silly; I wasn’t usually so attracted just because a guy dressed scantily. But there was something about the contrast between Jim and everyone else—as if the tension between sacred and profane was itself erotic.
Jim was to sit with me in the lectures, even though he’d already heard them once. It would be a refresher before he heard the final lecture.
Randall taught all afternoon. I learned that the group’s teachings came from a book called Divine Principle, which also served as the name of their theology. When I asked who had come up with the teachings, Randall told me I would learn about that at the completion of the lecture series. I was anxious to get there.
Divine Principle Christology held that Jesus was born like any other person—except that he came from a lineage free of original sin. Jesus achieved the first blessing, attaining the union with God that Adam had failed to accomplish.
Lost in thought as I listened to Randall speak, I suddenly realized that Jim had begun shaking violently with an epileptic seizure. I jumped to my feet and pushed the chairs aside. Randall laid Jim on the floor. I rushed to open the curtains, allowing more air into the room. Slowly, Jim regained consciousness.
“Sorry, folks,” Jim said groggily. “I should have told you that could happen.”
Mary had come into the room during the seizure. After Jim had recovered, she got a bottle from a cupboard and sprinkled something over his head. She then guided him upstairs to rest.
“What was that?” I asked, pointing toward the vial that Mary had left behind.
Randall snatched it up. “Holy salt. We use it for purification.”
“I used to keep a slave’s doll together with a lucky quarter that my great aunt gave me. If you don’t think I’m crazy to have believed they held power, then I’ve no problem with holy salt.”