Sharon Kennedy: Cults: The easy way out
I have a theory. If people are tired of making their own decisions, joining a cult is the perfect answer. It doesn’t matter if it’s religious, political or merely a group of bored people seeking an adventure. Joining a cult takes the pressure off having to think for ourselves. Leaders could be preachers, politicians or a regular Joe and Jenny. Charisma and the ability to entertain are the only prerequisites for a leadership position.
Oops, I almost forgot another essential component for successful leaders: fear. Without fear, they run the risk of being laughed at and deposed by cult members. Nobody will follow a wishy-washy, humdrum weakling. Would you? If you attended a meeting of what you thought was a potentially interesting “cult,” would you sign up if the spokesperson blew bubbles in his coffee? Or wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve? Or forgot what county he was in?
No, of course not. You wouldn’t stay any longer than it took to find the nearest exit. A person who acted in such a strange way would be considered unfit to lead anything other than his dog on a leash. So how do we get hooked into something as sinister as a cult? It’s been my experience that it happens gradually. Thirty years ago I joined what I thought was a harmless group of so-called Christians. At first, I was hesitant. Being raised Catholic I was suspicious of anything outside the Church established by Jesus Christ Himself.
But I threw caution to the wind. I was ready for a change. I was tired of the predictable Sunday morning mass routine. I had stopped believing in confessing my sins to a priest who was probably steeped in sins much worse than my habit of listening to Kenneth Copeland. I attended a Baptist church for awhile until the preacher confessed he didn’t really believe their dogma but knew he had to keep his mouth shut or lose his congregation and the money they tithed. A few times I worshiped with the Assembly of God crowd. They know how to put on a rousing service guaranteed to keep the sleepiest person awake.
Then Mom and I gave the Salvation Army a go. All went well until one morning when a fellow approached me and asked if I was “sanctified.” I didn’t have a clue what he meant. I had been schooled by one of the preachers that acceptance of Jesus as my Savior was my ticket to heaven, but sanctified? Was that a biblical rule or one proclaimed by man? I looked that gent in the eye and lied. I wasn’t about to admit my ignorance of sanctification, nor was I going to swallow another phony canon. Mom and I retreated, but we didn’t stop searching for a church with a leader who knew the Word and wasn’t afraid to preach it.
Eventually we stumbled upon a small fellowship. It was only after two years of faithful obedience we realized we’d joined a cult. We weren’t lost sheep looking for a strong leader. We were capable women seeking biblical truth. When we finally left, it took awhile to free ourselves from the guilt the leader heaped upon us. However, once he realized our money was also gone, he vanished with it.
I learned a lot during my search for the meaning of Christianity. I learned there isn’t one, in or out of a cult.
— To contact Sharon Kennedy, send her an email at sharonkennedy1947@gmail.com. Kennedy's latest book, “The SideRoad Kids: Tales from Chippewa County,” is available from her, Amazon, or Audible.
This article originally appeared on The Sault News: Sharon Kennedy: Cults: The easy way out
