When I was 10, my parents were subscribing to Newsweek. And I vividly remember the issue that arrived after the …massacre is the only word that comes to mind…. that took place at “Jonestown”, the cult church that had relocated to Guyana with about 1,000 members. Jim Jones was their leader, and I still remember seeing the photos of all the children, and being pretty horrified by it all. I asked my father about it and he explained the whole cult thing to me, and that yes, even all the little kids were dead. I imagined if I had been there, and could I have run into the jungle to escape, or just pretended to drink the kool-aid and laid down to play dead. It made quite an impact, the article and photos.
Browsing a few months back, I put a documentary of Jonestown into the Netflix queue, and we watched it the other night. It was really fascinating, because there’s the whole layer of how it became so crazy, and then the roots of how it started, because on the surface, it was basically a good idea, very forward-thinking, it seemed. Jim Jones believed in equality, and he encouraged people of ALL races to participate equally in his church. He became a major political force in California, and it was only after some investigative journalism did some of the seamy underside of his organization start to come out. But the dude was nuttier than a Planters factory, and it just boggles the mind, how people who were drawn in by him didn’t (couldn’t) question him as the train started careening off the tracks. And yes, this is just yet another reason I probably DO question things so much, because I’m intensely paranoid that I will be lulled into a false sense of security and the next thing you know, there’s a Dixie cup of kool-aid in my hand and I’m dying on the hillside.
What hadn’t stuck with me was the craziness of the murder of the senator from California, who had flown down to investigate Jonestown after so many constituents complained their family members were missing. I had no idea that had happened, and can only imagine the sensationalist manner it would be covered today.
Turns out, my dear friend Cindy has been exposed to any documentary or show ever made on Jonestown, thanks to her husband’s own curiosity with it. We bantered about what the difference between a cult is – vs. say, the Westboro Baptist church, which I posit cannot arguably be a ‘real’ church, given the platform of hate and rancor they center on. It just makes me angry that the Phelps family can enjoy hiding behind the protections afforded churches in this country, versus the stigma and shame (and ATF raids) we collectively place on cults.
I’d enjoy a church tax break, so I’m starting my own religion, based on the Holy Trinity of Knitting, Tequila and Bacon. I think it could really, really take off. And there’ll be no proselytizing or healing hands, no foreign countries for escaping, no white pantsuits or bad sunglasses. Just good times and gravy when appropriate.
Must say, though, I was a little amused that when I looked up the definition of “cult” at m-w.com, I was served a Google ad for the Jehovah’s.
