“You have the power to change the world!” cried the cover of the brochure. Sounds quite progressive, doesn’t it? But in fact it’s about as regressive as you can get, because it’s the rallying cry for The Julian Society, “individuals working to restore the ancient Pagan religions.” The cover of the brochure features a statue of Flavius Claudius Julianus, better known to Christians as Julian the Apostate. He tried to “undo” Christianity and is said to have died with these words on his lips: “Thou hast conquered, O Galilean!”
The brochure says, “Julian’s religious goals were simple and direct: to rebuild the honor and status which the ancient Pagan faiths had held since the beginning of time, to re-instill noble values and purposes within all Pagan religion, to make Pagan teachings and knowledge available to all, and to continue the worship of all ancient Pagan deities.”
Of course, one of the reasons Christianity spread so rapidly is that paganism had lost much of its “honor and status” and no longer promoted “noble values and purposes.” (Much the same can be said of our own secular society.)
The Julian Society describes itself as “an open organization dedicated to the advancement of the ancient Pagan religions. It is non-denominational and without hierarchy.” It has “no membership rolls, no chapters, no dues, and no meetings”–and, given all that, probably no effect, which is just as well, since the world already is suffering from too much neo-paganism, the cure for which is not paleo-paganism, but Christianity. In the long run, the Galilean will conquer again.
Fr. Michael Jackels, who is the director of the Office of Religious Education for the Diocese of Lincoln, Nebraska, sent us a copy of The Little Catechism on the Holy Eucharist, a 70-page booklet that was produced for his diocese’s Eucharistic Congress. He says it’s the ideal complement to Catholic Answers’ 12 Painless Ways to Evangelize. We agree. You can get copies of the Little Catechism for a dollar apiece by writing to him at P.O. Box 80328, Lincoln, NE 68501-0328. After you review the Little Catechism, consider getting bulk quantities for use in your parish or diocese.
What They Didn’t Tell You in History Class Dept. In his organization’s newsletter Dave Hunt writes, “For 1,000 years before the Reformation, there were always groups of evangelical Christians outside the Catholic Church, millions of whom were slaughtered for obeying Scripture instead of Rome.”
Two small difficulties: (1) There is no evidence of the existence of any such groups, especially any that could have had millions of members, and Hunt refers his readers to no source materials (because there aren’t any); (2) if “millions” of hidden Evangelicals were put to death, how can that figure be squared with the conclusions of Protestants historians who say, for instance, that during the whole of the Inquisition (which is what Hunt seems to be referring to) around 3,000 people were executed? Hunt seems to be using a number about 1,000 times as large as what non-Catholic historians come up with. Could there be a hint of exaggeration here? (Side point: Of those who died, not a one was an Evangelical, for the good reason that Evangelicalism didn’t arise until after the Inquisition was defunct.)
We know it’s a heresy, but we can’t figure out which one. Maybe “divine facelessness”? Here’s a panel from a Jack Chick comic book called Last Rites. Christ sits on his throne. Do you recognize him? Probably not, since he’s faceless. Seems to us that this is a denial of the Incarnation.
We downloaded this “insider’s account” of Scientology from an online forum dedicated to exposing the cult. The author is Patrick Jost:
My father was in advertising, and had heavy “show business” connections. I dabbled in the music business when I was doing graduate work at UCLA. A “celebrity” friend of the family had mentioned Scientology to me several times; I had never been interested in the talk of engrams and so on, but I was interested in claims of increased intelligence. I read the standard bio of [L. Ron] Hubbard[founder of Scientology] and decided someone with that background might actually have some useful ideas. As a result, I was “sponsored” (which means I didn’t pay for it) for some courses and auditing at the Los Angeles Celebrity Centre.
Well, I kept “advancing” but nothing happened. I mentioned this several times, and was told that by the time I made OT [Operating Thetan], that I’d have an IQ of 200, perfect recall, and so on. Yes, on occasion I “believed” I was getting some results, but would always decide that I wasn’t. I was also hearing stories of “powers,” but when I asked for details or demonstrations (“you can fly!”) they remained stories.
[The studies] describe events in the distant past involving alien beings, space travel, and exploding volcanoes. I started to object to this on scientific grounds. I also have a good background in archaeology and was asking some very pointed questions about geology, biology, linguistics.
At about this point, my “sponsor” started to hint that it was time for me to start to pay for my own auditing; it seems that my “complaining” was reaching some of the higher levels and someone who had initially been perceived as a hot recruit was not working out.
I found out the cost; I didn’t have that sort of money, so I approached my father. He said, “Let’s investigate . . . what do you know about this man Hubbard?” I showed him the bio, and he found it incredible; he (my father) served with distinction in the Pacific, and just did not accept it. We got copies of Navy records, and sure enough, no command of a corvette squadron, no long list of citations, no mention of serious injuries.
The next step was a P.I., who checked with George Washington University and Princeton. Hubbard flunked out of GWU (or dropped out) and never attended Princeton. We found a reference to a Ph.D. from Sequoia University, which was a degree mill.
I then allowed an electrical engineer to open my E-Meter and take a look. He explained the Wheatstone Bridge circuit to me, and I accepted that there is no correlation between resistance and “mental mass” (whatever that means).
I returned to the Celebrity Centre and had a long talk with my course supervisor. I told her that I had seen no results . . . not personally, not with anyone else. I told her that I now had serious doubts about Hubbard’s background as well as the effectiveness of the E-Meter.
She told me (quite sternly) that I should not investigate Scientology. She told me that a “high level OT” could wipe me out with a thought and that the Church did not tolerate “snooping around” and the like. She said that I needed to do “an ethics course” and that it would not cost me anything. She said that if I didn’t do the course, I’d be kicked out of Scientology.
Off to ethics. My first encounter was with the “Director of Communications” of the Celebrity Centre, who also seemed to be the receptionist. She told me that she had gained the ability to speak fluent Spanish through auditing. Well, let me tell you, she could not speak fluent Spanish; in fact, apart from a few expressions, she knew nothing about Spanish. She told me that such accusations were “going to get me into trouble” with the Ethics Officer, who was a “powerful” person.
Finally . . . into the inner sanctum of the ethics officer. Th e guy was a little runt who wore glasses, squinted, and chain smoked. He told me that I had to stop asking questions, stop investigating, stop challenging people’s claims of abilities, and so on. He wanted me to sign some forms. I refused . . .
Well, Jost didn’t last much longer in Scientology. He found out it wasn’t a religion, but a scam. Plus, he was scared off by the guys who said, “We’ll get you when we have to.” Not an endearing attitude.