I walked up to the casket to see "Grandma" (my
nephew's grandma), and she lay there in character, stark white hair
contrasted by bright pink ribbons on both sides of her forehead,
flamboyant as only she could be. Make-up emanated from her face, a
no-no in the
Philadelphia Church of God. A little black stuffed dog nestled at
her side, reminiscent of her love of a pet dog. Emotion gripped me, my
throat clogged, and I moved away, silently saying good-bye to this lady
and another era.
I noticed there were no flowers--only a cascade
from the immediate family, and two other bouquets from relatives. Typical, I thought. In mechanization, none of the PCGers "wasted"
their money on flowers.
People mingled in--a mix, some friends, some
strangers, the family--but most from the Philadelphia Church of God, and
one from the local Worldwide Church of God. As they entered, and
their eyes met my unfaltering gaze, they quickly looked away or gave me
a hateful and outraged look that said why are you here, what rights do
you have, you are a satanic, disfellowshipped and marked, beneath being
spoken to human being, if that. Then they would turn and coldly walk
past me like I was invisible. I suppose the fact that I had called a
few of these "brethren" when I heard they had exited the
Worldwide Church of
God to warn them of the folly of entering yet another
"cult," or re-entering the same
group
by another door, namely the Philadelphia Church of God, did not help my
popularity.
My sister continued to visit and minister to her ex
mother-in-law. (Few marriages survive the cult experience.) As they
walked stiffly past my grieving sister and me, they not only ignored me
but they ignored her and her children as well. The ignoring of me was
one thing, but the blatant ignoring of a grieving relative, the mother
of the grandchildren and the grandchildren themselves, spoke volumes
which I need not put into words.
I found an older lady that I knew from nine years ago
when I was back in Worldwide. I sat by her and we talked
about the changes in the Worldwide Church of God. She brought me up to
date on a few of the people whom I had wondered if they were still
there, and I asked her then where they had all gone. Her answer should
not have surprised me; she had no clue and was not interested. Emotionless, she reported the departure of two hundred of her "Brethren"
(whom she was supposed to love) and she had no idea what had happened to
them, nor did she care. I mused mentally, how typical. But at least
she talked to me. I realized later as I found my seat and she
followed me, that she was not a part of the PCG and was also an outcast,
but just of a different flavor than me or my sister and kids. She was
still in the mother "cult," and the PCG was in charge of
this "funeral."
As the lady from the Worldwide Church of God and I
chatted, my sister sat down beside me. The other daughter-in-law of
Grandma's entered, and when she saw this lady, promptly came over and
warmly greeted her, giving a somewhat warm greeting to me as well. In my
mind I pleaded, please notice my grieving sister at my side and
don't do what I expect you will! But of course, she did. In one
second she cruelly looked through my sister as though she was not
even sitting right beside me. I could only empathize for the feelings
that I
knew must be surging through my sister. Disgust, and outrage, seeped
into me. What a simply cruel and nasty thing to do. Any respect I had
had for that person ebbed out of my being.
Not any of the others moved towards where we were
sitting. Not feeling like asking for a boot in the face, I decided not
to try and talk to anyone that I used to know as "beloved
brethren." I think my sister and the old lady from Worldwide felt the
same. We busied ourselves with small talk until it was time for the
"service."
Right on cue, not a moment late as is their regimented practice, the
bulk of the "congregation" consisting mostly of Philadelphia Church of
God members filed to the middle of the room, leaving the edges for the
rest of us. The grieving family moved to the front rows of the
makeshift "church" (chairs set up in the funeral home). No
buildings as usual for the membership--too expensive for the cults,
let the members make do, spend the money at the top on whatever is not
their business, only their money, I mused in my mind. I was angry
because the people deserve more.
The funeral directors ignoring the curtain went
up to Grandma and took out her toy dog and took off her glasses and
shut the coffin lid on her, right in front of the little kids and the
family. The lump in my throat stirred again, but anger arose as well. Another typical, I thought. No thought given to the feelings of the
family. I sat squirming, wishing I had not come, but determined to get
through what I suspected was coming. I reminded myself as to why I was
here. I came not for me, nor for the members, but for the grieving
family and for Grandma, to give my last respects, and I was beginning to
feel like I was one of the few that came for that reason. I later left
feeling I was right.
The arrogant man strode to the podium. He carried
a Bible and several yellow sheets of paper. There was no music. Suddenly his authoritative voice began. It was shrill and irritating
for a man, I thought. He began by making a few token words about
Mrs. so and so, not once using her first and given name. He made no
mention of her children, grandchildren, marriage and husband that had
predeceased her, her life, or anything about her as a person. All his
comments were directed about what she believed. (I mentally wondered if
he had ever bothered to find out what she really believed and
later asked my sister if he had ever visited with Grandma. My sister
said that he never had to her knowledge.) Rushing through the few
sentences, he began the "service." What followed next was 45 minutes of
torturous philosophy that I remembered word for word from the Worldwide
Church of God services that I had attended during my membership. I
had not attended in 9 years, yet I recognized the same exact words, the
same twisted Scriptures, the same rhetoric and propaganda.
I found myself fighting the urge of going to
sleep. No, I urged myself. Do not drift, do not go into trance,
listen and stay in control of your mind. I fought the urge to turn
off, to go onto automatic. I fought for control. As I struggled, I
looked around the room. The PCGers were all sitting at stark attention,
glazed looks on their faces. I realized they trusted and were already
in trance. I looked at the family. The non-PCGers were squirming and
wiggling and looking at each other. The PCG family members were also at
stark attention. It was so unnatural in comparison to the real
funerals I had attended in the past nine years. At real funerals, people
cried and talked about the person in the casket. The deceased
was the focus of attention. But not today. The nasty-voiced minister
droned on and on about things no one seemed at all interested in. I had
heard it all before, hundreds if not thousands of times while in
Worldwide, but the friends and strangers had not.
The three strangers sitting there together had
their faces all wrinkled in frowns. Unbeknown to the Philadelphia
Church of God members, or me at the time, one was a relative who is a
lawyer. His face frowned and his gaze was intent on the source of the
irritation. Time after time I saw him grimace when some new twist was
given to a well-known Bible scripture. The other man's face was fixed
in an incredulous frown and the woman's brow furrowed with each extra
biblical twist of scripture. It was painfully obvious to me that these
three had brains and minds and were not too happy with this funeral and
the babble emanating from the pulpit.
For 45 dreadful minutes Grandma was completely
forgotten in the mind of the windy minister. He did not speak of her
as he flitted from Scripture to Scripture, completely forgetting that he
was not doing a "regular" PCG service, saying as they do, "turn
to," as he flitted connecting Scripture to
non-connected Scripture. Rolling eyes and "looks" passed back and forth
through the "unconverted" (non-PCGers) as he unwittingly carried on as
though he was "normal" and the rest of the world knew nothing. I
couldn't help but smile with humor, as I saw what a fiasco this really
was. But for my sister and her family I would have even spoken out,
when he completely negated the sacrifice of Jesus Christ with a twisted
Scripture. I had all I could do to hold my composure.
This too shall pass, I reminded myself and found
myself in deep prayer, thanking God for His deliverance of my family and
me from a "cult," nine years ago. This was a heavy reminder of the
bondage I was once in, just like these poor emotionless, robotic PCGers. How wonderfully lucky I am, I thought, and praised and thanked God
from the depths of my being.
The "minister" was now in Job. I mused, I wonder
how badly he will twist this book? I never had understood Job while in
the Worldwide Church of God only to find out later that it was taught
backwards, as were many other things. (I had learned that many things
were taught backwards in the WCG, only after extensive deprogramming study, with
the aid of trained real ministers that did not have a hidden
agenda and who had respect for the Word of God.)
Now the minister was in
Genesis. We never could get through a sermon without going
'back
to the beginning' as ole Herbert used to say, I thought. Next he
went to Ecclesiastics, and we had to hear all about not having an
immortal soul. How cruel, I thought, those little children get taught
about the gift of everlasting life, given to those that accept and trust Jesus
Christ as their personal Savior in Sunday school, and this jerk thinks
nothing of screwing with their little minds. And everyone knows that
you don't take doctrine out of the book of Ecclesiastics. Everyone
except these poor, deceived, mind-controlled people. Typical and stupid
and twisted and cruel, I mused.
Next to us, across the way from us, family members
struggled with children that were getting antsy and bored with this
droning voice, going on and on and on, in the typical
cult tradition. One little girl refused to be controlled. The mommy has not been
taught cult child management and control, I thought, as I smiled
inwardly at the distraction. I was secretly glad to have a normal and
sane anchor to connect with. Keep it up baby, I silently encouraged. She did. The congregation that wasn't Philadelphia Church of God
members, focused on the little girl. I suspect they were as glad as I was for the
sweet distraction. The PCGers sat stonily at attention that would rival
the military.
Finally, after several anticipated cessations to
the "sermon," only to be disappointed by his going to yet another
Scripture, the minister stopped speaking, closed his Bible, put his
extensive notes into it, and walked away from the podium. No!
my mind screamed. You callous, contemptible fool. You have
even forgotten where you are in your pomp and vigor to recruit. You forgot to speak of the deceased, you let the family hang in a
muddle of twisted Scriptures without a word of condolence,
sympathy or gentleness, in total indignity.
Perhaps my mental
screams were heard, because the contemptuous man that I had come to
totally disdain turned and approached the podium again.
It was over. There was no music played, no kind
words about the personality of Grandma, nothing about her life and her
contribution to mankind, no mention of the grieving relatives present,
not even at the end of this horrendous mockery. The PCG minister
returned to the podium and coldly and stiffly made the announcement that
"this concludes our service, and you may fellowship for awhile if
you like," and with those words walked stiffly away from the podium. There was no music, nothing. Just nothing. My mind reeled in
revulsion. Heartless, cold, emotionless, even chilling, I thought.
Do they even know what fellowship means, and who does he think he is,
giving us his permission to fellowship, as though we do not have
the brains to speak to others, if we want to? With that thought, I
decided to leave immediately. There was no more reason to remain. I
told my sister I was leaving. She said she had to say a word of
condolence to one relative and would follow shortly.
I was the first one to exit. I was horrified at
what I had seen and heard with my own two eyes and ears. I had to get
out. I felt like I was suffocating. I wanted to shake the dust of
those dead people off of me. As I walked to my car, bits of Scriptures
flew through my mind. "The love of many shall wax cold"; "let the dead bury their dead"; "wolves will come in unaware and devour the
flock"; "Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord?’ I never knew you." A new
and startling, unsettling realization of the meaning of those Scriptures
coursed through me. The very absence of the local membership of the
Worldwide Church of God shouted to the heavens the coldness of their
love. No one from Worldwide was there, only that one lone old
lady. No one else had bothered to come. And the icy unfeeling manner
of the PCG minister left me totally chilled. There is no love, I
realized. Everything they touted was an illusion and plastic,
not real, not true love, or they the local townsfolk that had been, or
still are members of the WCG, would have come to the funeral. I
shuddered inwardly at the coldness. I realized it wasn't "the world"
(as we had been taught in WCG) that Jesus was talking about, when He
said, "the love of many shall wax cold," but He had been speaking
of the love of many waxing cold from within the ranks of this
kind of church, a cult masquerading
as a church. This "church" is
the wolf, I thought.
"Let the dead bury their dead." No wonder
Jesus spoke those words. The people inside were only shells of people,
I thought. Real people, real flesh and blood, loving people, care about
each other and feel and can think. Not like those empty vessels,
milling around robotically going through the motions, but without
emotion of any kind. The love and life of them sucked out of them as
they performed on automatic pilot, navigated by the head guru. No
wonder Jesus said that. No wonder, I thought.
"Devouring the flock from within" perhaps
meant from within the heart and soul of the man, I thought, sucking
out all that is normal, all feeling, all kindness, all love, leaving
only empty shells of people, the walking dead Jesus talked
about. Devouring from within the flock perhaps has a deeper meaning
than just an evil minister devouring the flock to himself (as we were
taught in the WCG that it meant), but now I saw that each member of the
Philadelphia Church of God and the Worldwide Church of God was empty and
already devoured from within their very beings.
No wonder Jesus, the personification of love, said
he would say he never knew these people. They spoke with empty words,
and he will deny he ever knew them. Hypocrites, masquerading as "God's
people" and members of "His church." They didn't have a clue as to the
gapping, bleeding wounds of the grieving family. Long ago they have
forgotten how to love. No wonder Jesus spoke those words, I thought.
No wonder.
My sister came to the car. As we drove home, we
discussed the ordeal we had just gone through, both conceding we had
never been to anything so atrocious in our fifty plus years. We dubbed
the experience: "The Funeral From Hell."
In the week that followed, I ran into a distant
relative that had been present at the "funeral." I quipped, "How did
you like the funeral from hell?" She responded by telling me that she
had "stopped listening about 15 minutes into the 'sermon.' " I thought,
It only takes 15 minutes to put a non-member into trance. Interesting.
And the members go through this week after week after week after
week. No wonder I had such a problem deprogramming.
Her voice was continuing. "After about 15 minutes,
and hearing several of the Scriptures twisted, I was praying that none
of this would penetrate the heart of any of the unsuspecting people
there," she said. As she spoke I thought, We were probably both
praying at about the same time. She said, "I didn't appreciate him
giving his whole philosophy, and it was obvious this was a selling job
and we were a captive audience. We couldn't very well leave. I thought
it was going to be over in a few minutes and then he went back to
Genesis and started there and flipped all over. Every time I thought it
was going to be over, he flipped to another Scripture and talked some
more. The children were good, but are not used to sitting so long, and
it was really hard on the family members with little children." She went
on to say, "The daughter (that isn't in the group) knew this was a 'cult,' but Grandma was a part of it so the daughter honored her mother's
wishes and had the service this way." I thought, true love,
sacrificing her own wishes to honor her mother. The relative and I
made other small talk then and departed from each other, but not before
agreeing that this was indeed a "funeral made in hell."
In the days that followed, my sister couldn't shake
the experience. Depression set in over the manner she and her children
had been treated and the way Grandma was sent on her journey to the
beyond. She said, "I can't seem to shake the negative energy of those
people and that day." I assured her that not one of those empty tombs were worth her little finger.
My sister told me that her ex-husband felt the same
way we did and was also having a hard time recovering, not from his
mother’s death, but from his mother's funeral. Her ex-husband,
Grandma's son, is also an ex-Worldwider, and had been ignored by most of
the members. He had also spoken to the non-group family members and
that they were in agreement that there was a lack of comfort and completion,
but rather unrest after the funeral.
Grandma's son said, "My funeral for mother was the
week before she died, while I was with her. Those people treated me
like I did not belong at my own mother's funeral. I wish I had not
gone."
By Dora, former member of WCG
Originally written in 1996 (and still applicable for today)
Posted November 9, 2005
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