Tuesday, May 13, 2008

A Visiting Stranger...

The following is pasted directly from my blog on MySpace. I am trying to consolidate my blogs.


Yesterday I was home alone while my family went to the mall. The idea was that I was supposed to be working on my homework. Since I had been out at the club until 4:30 am and only got a few hours sleep, I quickly fell asleep. (Who wouldn't fall asleep while trying to read a textbook on International Business?)

I must have been in a deep sleep because I was awoken to the sound of the doorbell. Stumbling clumsily to the door, I peered through the peephole but had no clue who was there (I could only tell that she was a woman). I was still groggy and wasn't wearing my glasses so everything was a blur. The only blur I could make out was the silhouette of a dark SUV (it seemed as large as a Chevy Suburban).

I remembered I had casually committed to returning to the Church of Scientology to buy books (a small white lie). I was confused as to how they could find me and tried to recall if I had given out my address. I didn't panic and I wasn't scared but I certainly wasn't in the mood to talk to any creepy Scientologists. So, I quietly returned to my nap and she eventually went away.

Having forgotten about the whole incident, I didn't even think to mention it to my wife. But this afternoon, the doorbell rang again. My son peeked through the blinds and announced that it was just my wife's friend, "Lana". So, I confidently flung the door open to see the same unknown lady with her black Suburban...

She politely asked a few questions to determine if she had the correct residence. She did. But she wasn't looking for me; she was looking for my wife. And she wasn't from the Church of Scientology; she was from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

She is what the Mormons call a visiting teacher and she had tracked down my wife. She wanted to let us know that the "church" was available if we needed anything. She also said "We haven't seen your wife for a while and wanted to see if she was still here." The funny thing is that the last time my wife went to church was 13 years ago and it was in Colorado. I had half a mind to tell this lady that but I didn't.

I also had the urge to invite her in for a theological discussion but I didn't. She wasn't a missionary and she looked uncomfortable and I know my wife was uncomfortable. My wife witnessed the whole exchange hiding around the corner and she was upset that I flung the door open (potentially exposing her). She was also bewildered at how the "church" keeps tracking her down. Every time we change addresses they eventually find her (not me, just her). This time it took almost two years to the day but they are persistent.

I should have known better than to assume the Scientoiogists would even bother to find me. Now the Mormons, on the other hand, they can track you like a bloodhound on the trail...

Monday, May 5, 2008

The Church of Scientology

The following is pasted directly from my blog on MySpace. I am trying to consolidate my blogs.


I had to drive 20 miles to the downtown Phoenix area where the only Church of Scientology for metro Phoenix is located. It was all freeways so it didn't take too long. I arrived early because I always allow extra time for traffic. The first thing I noticed was the parking area was enclosed. There was an open gate but it could have been closed at some point while I was inside. I was aware of the fact that when I sent an online inquiry about meeting times I was directed to call ahead so they would know I was coming.

I did consider parking outside the compound but they enticed me with covered parking spaces and it gets hot this time of year. I tactically backed my car into the shade and waited for my appointment. At 10:30 sharp, I walked into the receptionist's office and announced that I was there for my appointment. She didn't look very happy to be there but she politely informed Antonio of my arrival.

Antonio led me through a maze of hallways to a small room in the back to go over my test results. The room was unnaturally hot (even for Phoenix) and felt as if they had the heat on only in that room. We went over the results of my Oxford Capacity Analysis (OCS) test. This is a test that was designed by the church of scientology as a recruitment tool in 1961 and has been challenged by psychologists. The test measured 10 areas of personality: stability, happiness, composure, certainty, activity, aggressiveness, responsibility, correct estimation, appreciation and communication.

In the areas that I fell "below normal" there was great concern. These areas demanded my immediate attention. Curiously, on of those areas said that I was too critical; something which I regard as a positive thing. From there standpoint, I should be more willing to accept things "on faith" and not be so critical of the world around me. In the areas where I fell in the "normal" range, I should be working to improve these (simply because there was room for improvement). In three areas, I scored well above the normal range but Antonio but a negative spin on this. He said that too have such high scores in a few areas offsets my personality makes me unstable and unpredictable.

The end result of this bogus test analysis was that I should spend $50 on books written by L. Ron Hubbard that will help me improve. I could also make the long drive on a regular basis and pay hefty fees for classes and personal auditing. I passed on the sales pitch and told him I wanted to attend the church service but just took the test out of curiosity. Incidentally, these books are all available at my public library (thanks to a community outreach program for which the church of scientology had a pamphlet in their waiting room).

While waiting for services to start, I was reading some material and was approached by someone else. He introduced himself as Jonathon and he welcomed me; stating he would be leading the services. We went into a small chapel where I was joined by eleven other people (this is for the only church of scientology in a metro area with more than 4 million people). It was obvious that every one else knew each other and none of them welcomed me to the meeting. While waiting for the meeting to start, someone was talking about the movie Iron Man. When I tried to interject a comment about the movie, they spun and stared at me with a look that said "why are you talking?" so I gave up trying.

Jonathon opened a large book with a leather-bound cover and gold-covered edges (it looked like a bible). From this book he read the Scientologist Creed, as follows:

We of the Church believe:

That all men of whatever race, color, or creed were created with equal rights;

That all men have inalienable rights to their own religious practices and their performance;

That all men have inalienable rights to their own lives;

That all men have inalienable rights to their sanity;

That all men have inalienable rights to their own defense;

That all men have inalienable rights to conceive, choose, assist or support their own organizations, churches and governments;

That all men have inalienable rights to think freely, to talk freely, to write freely their own opinions and to counter or utter or write upon the opinions of others;

That all men have inalienable rights to the creation of their own kind;

That the souls of men have the rights of men;

That the study of the mind and the healing of mentally caused ills should not be alienated from religion or condoned in non-religious fields;

And that no agency less than God has the power to suspend or set aside these rights, overtly or covertly.

And we of the Church believe:

That man is basically good;

That he is seeking to survive;

That his survival depends upon himself and upon his fellows and his attainment of brotherhood with the universe.

And we of the Church believe that the laws of God forbid man:

To destroy his own kind;

To destroy the sanity of another;

To destroy or enslave another's soul;

To destroy or reduce the survival of one's companions or one's group.

And we of the Church believe that the spirit can be saved and that the spirit alone may save or heal the body.

Afterwards, he stated that our topic of discussion would be how to avoid feeling victimized. I noticed he didn't say "how not to be victimized" but rather how to avoid feeling like a victim. He turned to another place in the leather book and began to read an article that had been written by L. Ron Hubbard about the subject of victimization. I really wish I could have taken notes but that would have been a little too obvious (besides Antonio was sitting right behind me). I cannot even give you the basic gist of the sermon/lecture. Maybe I am too drunk or maybe I am too tired. At any rate, it felt like group therapy session. The congregation was encouraged and willing to yell out commentary.

I discovered that the two teen-aged girls on one side of the room were daughters of two of the ladies on the other side of the room. All five of the adult women in the room were divorced and made many sarcastic remarks about their ex-hubbies. The men in the room fit the sci-fi/D&D geek profile and made the kind of jokes that no one laughs at but them. I didn't really feel comfortable commenting on anything so I just observed the proceedings.

Jonathon spent the last twenty minutes of our meeting with some group activity. I was a little excited because that would give me a reason to interact with these people. Unfortunately, it was a silent group activity. He named off dozens of categories and had us silently ponder the most certain thing we know about each one. Some of the categories were self, family, mother, father, humanity, the environment, outer space, cats, dogs, the weather, sex, men, women, boys, girls, birds, solid things, etc. It droned on to the point when I almost went to sleep when Jonathon finally said "now don't have a better certainty about the world?"

We ended the session with the Scientology prayer for total freedom (of which I had a printed copy on my chair). The text of that prayer is as follows:

The Scientology Prayer for Total Freedom

May the author of the universe enable all men to reach an understanding of their spiritual nature.

May awareness and understanding of life expand, so that all may come to know the author of the universe.

And may others also reach this understanding which brings Total Freedom.

At this time, we think of those whose liberty is threatened; of those who have suffered imprisonment for their beliefs; of those who are enslaved or martyred, and for all those who are brutalized, trapped or attacked.

We pray that human rights will be preserved so that all people may believe and worship freely, so that freedom will once again be seen in our land.

Freedom from war, and poverty, and want; freedom to be; freedom to do and freedom to have.

Freedom to use and understand man's potential — a potential that is God-given and Godlike.

And freedom to achieve that understanding and awareness that is Total Freedom.

May God let it be so.

When we were dismissed, I shook Antonio's hand and shook Jonathon's hand and promptly left the building. This was one of the most bizarre "church" experience I have seen. With it all said and done, my original hypothesis was confirmed: Scientology is not religious but became a church to avoid paying taxes so they can make more money. The harm they cause is misinformation and greed. I am glad I took the time to attend this service but I am anxious to explore more legitimate religions. Next week, I am considering either a Jewish synagogue or a Buddhist temple. For now, good night...

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Head's Up!

The following is pasted directly from my blog on MySpace. I am trying to consolidate my blogs.


I have a 10:30 appointment today with the Church of Scientology. An auditor named Antonio is going to discuss my personality test. Afterwards, I will be attending their 11:15 service. I am doing this alone and I have some mixed emotions (excitement, apprehension, curiosity, etc.) Don't worry, I won't drink the kool-aid but if you don't hear from me by the end of the day, call the police (just kidding).