Top read story of the
day on the San Diego Reader Blog, March 10, 2012.
As I
wound my way up to Morning Star Ranch Farm tucked back in the hills of
Valley Center located adjacent to the well visited Keys Creek Lavender
Farm, I remembered a man from years back. He was a short bearded man
with long hair tied at the base of his neck dressed comfortably in homespun
peasant style clothes that ran a natural candle and soap shop in downtown
Burlington, Vermont. Originally called by another name, the gentle soft spoken
man was part of the often media highlighted spare-the-rod-spoil-the-child
Island Pond Twelve Tribes Commonwealth of Israel commune entrenched in the
Green Mountain State’s secluded ‘can’t-get-there-from-here’ Northeast Kingdom.
I
hadn't seen him--or people dressed like him-- in 20 years, not since moving
away from the land of maple syrup and cider mill donuts. Not until, having
finally forfeited the North East's frigid winters and overcast skies for the
surf and sand of sunny San Diego a few years back, I spied a female from Twelve
Tribes with her head wrapped and a baby on her hip selling Mate at the
Oceanside Farmers Market.
The
Twelve Tribes are a messianic community, an association of individuals “who
love one another so greatly that they are of one heart and mind, holding all
things as common property, living together…devoted to one another.” As a child
of the ‘70’s and a lifetime student of communes I can so identify. As a free
spirit back to the land-er I am in total alignment with their simple social
system of agrarian entrepreneurial self sufficiency and ecological
responsibility. And admittedly, I am more than impressed by their expansive
system of cottage industries, integrated business model and savvy strategizing
that landed contracts with the likes of Estee Lauder and Sundance Catalog,
(until the cosmetic company discovered that 14 year olds were alongside their
parents in the production line which the State of New York ruled as illegal
indentured servitude). But, that’s where the attraction ends for this lass.
The
father of my children at one point had tried to convince me that joining them
would be good for us, as a couple, as a family. We, after all, had very similar
lifestyles to them—we were half way there. They home birthed and home schooled
their children, as I had done. They grew, cooked and preserved their own food
as I tried to do. The women didn't wear makeup or shave as I then didn't and
the men had long hair and beards as he then did. Aside from those similarities,
though, I couldn’t see how he could think we’d fit in. How he thought I would
fit in.
It
is no secret that I regard the bible as only one of history’s books of truths
and Christianity as but a single path to godliness. It is also no secret that
I’m a feminist who supports equal opportunity for all regardless of sex, age,
race or sexually inclination. Therefore, as driven as I am to serve those I love—including
the man I love--I knew then that there was no way on God’s green Earth that I
was going to voluntarily subjugate myself or my daughters to him simply because
he was male, let alone to an entire community of men, a “BROTHERhood,” who
believed God granted them superiority by virtue of their penises. Nope. Not
this emancipated gal. I knew then that our paths were leading us in different
directions and from the minute he walked out my door I became the only Head of
Household to ever rule my roost.
To
each their own, however, and the women of the Twelve Tribes submit to the
authority and judgment of not just their husbands and fathers, but to all the
men in the community. Clearly following more than Yahshu (Jesus), they live by
the rules and standards established by a single man, supported in turn by a
colony of men. They submit to the will and doctrine—not of God, but of
"The Apostle".
Elbert
Eugene Spriggs, (known as Yoneq internally), is the Tribes’ self proclaimed
“anointed one”, The Apostle. A former protestant, Spriggs broke from THE Church
when his church opted to forfeit Sunday services in lieu of the Super Bowl. He
branched off, ministering to his smitten followers, evangelizing to the throngs
of "lost”. He began to hold services referred to as Critical Masses in
which he ranted about the flaws of the other denominations, point the arrogant
finger of accusation, condemning others for not being true believers. Spriggs,
himself, was well on his way to becoming what he despised; a minister who
plenty might claim is as misguided as those he had been repelled by.
To
this day, I remain confused as to how anyone has the conscience to ascertain,
let alone dictate, the quality or validity of someone else’s religious
experience or spiritual relationship with God. What I am not confused about is
what a cult is. Having grown up on the dismal dregs of the many cults that
formed or bloomed in the sixties and seventies, that in turned spurred an
aggressive counter active anti-cult movement that swelled well into the
eighties and nineties, I am hardly ignorant of the mark their apostles, their
profits, their leaders left on an entire generation.
Jim
Jones. November 18, 1978 is a day I will not be able to erase from my
consciousness as long as I live. The sexually, politically and religiously
confounded founder of the Peoples Temple directed the mass suicide of 909
members of his Rainbow Family and the murder of 200 of their children. As
frustrated as I was by parental authority guised as guidance at the bucking age
of 15 and as difficult as I may have made things for my mother, she did
not--bless her-- lead me to the slaughter by thrusting a Dixie Cup of cyanide
laced grape Kool-Aid down my throat. As much as we may not have seen
eye-to-eye, I never once thought her out of her blooming mind as I can well
imagine many of those my age living in fear in Jonestown must have thought of
their elders. I could not comprehend the horror that was unfolding on the
television day after day, for months on end. The sheer lunacy behind what would
become one of the largest mass suicides in history when all the bodies had been
counted was deeply scarring for someone so young, sensitive and impressionable.
The
Manson Family rampage a decade earlier was duly horrific, but didn't compare to
the scale and breath of Jonestown. Charles Manson, the 77 year old once
scientologist wannabe, criminal-songwriter-“guru” leader of the macabre Helter
Skelter Manson Family whose compositions have since been covered by Guns N'
Roses, White Zombie and Marilyn Manson, remains alive and well thanks to the
generous contribution of our tax dollars.
Vernon
Wayne Howell, known to his Waco Branch Davidians as the “Prophet” David Koresh,
was the Stud-For-God who annulled the marriages of his followers in order to
enjoy sexual access to all the women, or wives. Females 14 years and up
appeared to be free game. Koresh justified molesting minors because Texas law
legalizes the "marriage" of 14 year old girls whose parents have
consented. He, enabled by the emasculated husbands and fathers, prompted the
1993 murder/suicide of 76 adults and 17 children when the Feds came a-knocking
at the door of his Mt. Carmel harem.
Not
all cults end in violence. Victor Wierwille, ultra-control monger, founded the
still thriving but seriously homophobic and anti-Semitic gun-toting affiliation
known as The Way that swallowed many a teenager away from their parents,
including my friend Bruce. Sun Myung Moon, the egomaniac meglo zillionaire who
is a self ordained reincarnation of Christ-- but federally indicted tax fraud
and conspirator-- now in his 90's leads the sex-scandalized, homophobic,
business empire that is the Unification Church, home to the “Moonies”.
A
cult differs from a congregation slightly in that it pertains to a flock of
converts, (often perceived as will-less if not absolutely mindless), who become
devoutly enamored and fatally subservient, (thus, the legitimacy of the
previously stated commonly held perception), to a charismatic leader displaying
totalitarian control, advocating controversial beliefs and/or enforcing
questionable rituals.
Although
members of the Twelve Tribes don't view themselves as a cult, their doctrine is
based on one man’s interpretation of the Old Testament and his socio-political
opinions. A man—three times divorced—who was reported in 2001 by the Boston Herald to have received a
"vision" from God in 1971 while sunbathing on a California beach, to
be specific. I would imagine that divine callings, let alone spiritual visions,
were plentiful along the California coastline during that psychedelic drug
infused era.
As
with anyone who doesn't conform to the norm, who chooses instead a path outside
the "box", communes, cults and even religious congregations can be
similarly scrutinized, unjustly boycotted and illegally harassed. As would be
expected, by the early ‘80’s, The Community, as they came to call themselves,
had been accused of psychological abuse, as well as child abuse and kidnapping
that culminated in a nationally publicized police raid resulting in the removal
of 112 minors. The children were returned that same day when the raid was
declared unconstitutional. All assault charges against Spriggs' right-hand man,
Charles “Eddie” Wiseman (Hakam), were eventually dropped on account of
technicalities that continued to delay his right to a speedy trail.
Those
technicalities, it should be noted, consisted--in part at least-- of the public
defender, Jean Swantko, converting within months of her being assigned the
case. She married Wiseman within the year. Swantko had since litigated on behalf
of The Community in subsequent charges that eventually consisted also of child
custody and labor charges.
Brave
woman given Wiseman had allowed his previous wife, Mary who died of cancer in
1990, to be posthumously slandered by Spriggs and others who claimed she had died
in lingering agony as God’s punishment for having vocalized a complaint against
Spriggs ten years prior to the onset of her illness.
If
that isn’t evidence enough to differentiate Twelve Tribes as a cult versus a
religious sect, the testimony of Mary’s son Zeb Wiseman, who left The Community
shortly after her death, offers further support to the allegation. As with The
Way—and even the Amish actually, Twelve Tribes reportedly shuns dissents and
defectors by promoting internal “mark and avoid" policies which instruct
followers to close off all communication with individuals whose practices cause
division within the collective or with those who have selected to leave the
collective. All those Zeb grew up with, his siblings and even his own father,
ceased all relations with him leaving him isolated to survive on his own in a
foreign world. Others have since followed in his footsteps and his testimony is
now but a single voice in what over the years has become a chorus.
The
dirty laundry they’ve exposed depicts Super God Squad-er Spriggs as living high
on the hog thanks to the toil and sweat of his followers. Oh, and their
“tithes” as well. Upon acceptance into The Community, followers forfeit all
personal property and assets to live a communal life of physical labor. The
Community owns a conglomerate of incorporated enterprises, the least of which
is the Common Sense Farm product line of body products. Spriggs, defectors
claim, has become a reclusive globetrotting jetsetter who controls the Tribes'
assets and who resides in private luxury estates. Of course, those still living
within The Community claim otherwise.
Even
if these accusations were accurate, he wouldn't be the first religious leader
to do so. There are many who have received social and political endorsement, in
fact.
It
is undeniable that The Community has suffered from much misunderstanding and
illegal harassment. Corporeal punishment, regrettably, is not illegal and
custodial disputes are not reserved for cults or religious congregations. And,
all families, clubs, groups have their bones futilely hidden in closets. Every
camp will have its deserters.
As
awkward as the public feels about that which is different and as ugly as any
controversy can be, inhabitants of The Community appear to be a happy and
peaceful lot--including the women with whom I have the pleasure to interact.
Despite what they could very well view as persecution, The Community still
chooses to contribute positively towards society by providing wholesome
products and services and administering to those in need.
They
loiter on the periphery of concerts offering their magically restorative Mate
to those strung out and hung over. They open their doors and their hearths
every Sabbath, (Friday at sunset), inviting those who might be interested in
learning more about them and their lifestyle. Participants in the World Wide Opportunities on Organic
Farms, (WWOOF), they feed and shelter volunteers who are interested
in apprenticing on an organic farm.
Unlike
many doomsday pulpit spitting, bible thumping confrontational fundamentalists,
aside from their newsletter, (the Free Paper), with the typical homophobic, non
free choice rant of condemnation--which we are free to read or not read as we
choose--they, as "apostles", take a subtler evangelistic approach
than their red faced tight fisted brethren. I choose to practice tolerance even
if they do not and I am a firm believer that we are each entitled to our own
opinions and the freedom to pursue individual happiness. Though their religious
and socio-political beliefs differ drastically with mine, their overall
lifestyle is one that I can appreciate in today’s wasteful, slothful,
overweight, glutinous world. They are a small cluster of religious people,
seeking to coexist, to live simple lives among each other’s love within the
folds of our secular community.
Driving
up the hill towards the Farm to retrieve my friend who had just completed a two
week stint as a Morning Star WWOOFER, I wondered how he had made out and what
his impressions would be. He is a full blooded Sioux-Shoshone, but reservation
tribal life isn’t what it used to be. I was, frankly, surprised I hadn't heard
from him sooner. The welcoming stone entry gateway and palm lined driveway
leads to a clapboard farmhouse, barn, shed, and yurt set in a comfortable
cluster beneath an expansive canopy of shade trees. I waited as his new
friends, including full grown men and children, ran to bid him goodbye with
sustained hugs and sincere joy. He smiled back, glowing.
I
knew instantly that he had found a peace there he hadn’t ever known before. It
was written on his face, on his gestures, in the way he walked, in his
breathing. I asked him how he had liked it and he beamed that he loved it,
especially the food. He raved about how incredibly friendly and helpful
everyone was, how respectful everyone was to one
another--especially the children towards all adults. He admitted that he
wondered if living with this nationally diversified tribe was his destiny.
Without
a prompt from me, he confessed that the primary thing holding him back from
jumping in the baptismal waters wasn’t the religion or apostlistic fanaticism
as I had thought it would be; it was the way they treat their women, how he
would be expected to treat them. That wasn’t the first time I gave silent
praise to his mother for a job well done.
Ruled
by an international Apostolic Council, the Twelve Tribes is a confederation of
religious communities operating as a nonprofit in more than 50 countries. They
are nonvoting taxpayers who have a visible
presence at many local farmers markets and who operate the infamous Yellow Deli
chain of natural food restaurants and cafes. Warmly decorated with natural wood
and paint pigments, homemade curtains, macramé and handmade furniture
surrounding indoor and outdoor fireplaces, both Vista’s Yellow Deli and Valley Center’s
Yellow Deli and Farm Stand serve a wholesome, homegrown
organic and free range fare. The bread alone is worth the outing.
Manson,
by the way, is up for parole again in May. Having been denied parole 11 times
previously, the gruesome guru who in 2009 was found with a cell phone from
which he had made several calls is unlikely to ever feel freedom again in his
lifetime.
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