Reading the 800 amusing words of Dan Neil in the Los Angeles Times Magazine Sunday (“Omelets, Waffles and L. Ron Hubbard”), reminded me of two things: the one and only time I met Tom Cruise, and the time decades ago when I read “Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health.”
I met Cruise briefly when he came to our place to try out a motorcycle he was buying for his son. He was friendly, soft-spoken, kind to my grandson and generally behaved like a decent, sensible human being. This may have been before he embraced Scientology (or it embraced him). After seeing several of his recent appearances on talk TV, turning Scientology, as Neil puts it, “into The Church of the Raving Jerk,” I’m inclined to think I met him before his conversion. In any case, I’m sure it was before he became engaged to Katie Holmes, a more recent convert (perhaps captive) of the cult, sect, or whatever. Is it true that two Scientologists follow her everywhere?
I came to read Dianetics and a couple of Hubbard’s other works at a particularly difficult time in my life. I admit that I found them helpful. Most specifically, a simple method of prayer that was both intellectual and spiritual. But what impressed me most was its nonjudgmental character. Rather than praising goodness and hating evil, his prayers went something like: I am divinely guided in all that I say and do this day, or in this situation. Or, I am guided by the infinite intelligence of my subconscious mind (particularly in dealing with those who disagree with me). Even better was Hubbard’s advice to mentally direct these thoughts to one’s adversaries, eventually tossing out the whole idea of confronting enemies or judging their actions or intentions as evil. Hubbard also suggested that the best way to deal with someone who’s causing you grief is to pray that person’s circumstances improve and pray for their increased happiness, making it unnecessary for them to keep bugging you. I’ve had several indications that this actually works.
Growing up Catholic, I considered myself devout, if not righteous, lighting candles at the Church of the Good Shepherd and praying for specific things, some of which were obviously not intended to be mine. Everything from a passing grade on a math exam, for which I was inadequately prepared, to the acceptance of my peers, all two years older than I, who found me nerdy and naive. (I never understood any of their jokes, a blessing in disguise, as they were often about me.)
I persisted in this folly until after marriage to a non-Catholic, who steadfastly refused to be married in the church or to raise whatever offspring we might produce as God-fearing Catholics. I felt compelled to give up confessing sins that I was bound to repeat. I mean, it was just too hypocritical. We wound up living 50 miles from the nearest church, so it wasn’t much of an issue. I’d say he was an agnostic, but I believe now that he found his God while astride a horse, gazing at the mountains he loved. Eventually, I too found God more accessible in nature than in church.
Where I fell out with Hubbard was more about Scientology as an organized religion, a business really, which seemed more intent on gaining converts among the very wealthy than ministering to the unfortunate. Missionaries of all faiths might do better to follow the example of Albert Schweitzer, healing the sick and letting the spirit heal in private.
As I read more about various religions, I found more wisdom in Buddhism (which Neil mentions as “about as sane and nondogmatic as religion gets”). Then I read Zen Catholicism by Dom Aelred Graham, who suggests that the religions of East and West may meet at the spirit’s center. He also wrote that a sense of humor about religion befits both Zen and mature Catholicism. Hmmm. Sounds like something the current crop of evangelicals might benefit from reading.
Which brings me to the crux of my disenchantment with organized religions that try to spread their influence into business and politics, and things decidedly unspiritual. One way or the other, they’re going after the wallet more than the soul.
In the interest of full disclosure, I still attend Sunday Mass (but not Confession) when I’m in the neighborhood, but I might also be seen doing research in a Christian Science Reading Room, a Zen garden, curled up with “The Words” of Sartre or “Lighting the Light Within” by Dick Sutphen. They all have something to offer. But it’s equally unlikely that I’d attend a Bible-belt revival meeting, except as a journalist, of course.