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When
I first found the Urantia Book in 1977 and began reading it on my own, I
loved the idea that I could “be religious” and worship God without
having to join an organization. [Read
my story here.] It was just me and God and the good deeds we
could do together. I pictured the “true church” as being made up of
billions of such diverse individuals, all dominated by one will—God’s
will. This was the ultimate freedom of religion, and it felt right. I can
still remember the shock when, after buying my own copy of the book (I had
been reading my brother’s), a leaflet fell out promoting the Urantia
Brotherhood with a capital B. Wasn’t the “brotherhood of believers”
in our hearts, with a lowercase b? Who were these people who were
organizing this Brotherhood? And why? It went against my grain and
troubled me a lot.
But
I hungered to meet other readers, and in those pre-Internet days the only
way I could find them was by writing a letter to the Chicago address in
the front of the book. I received a reply from Emma
Christensen, who had
been around since the beginning, putting me in touch with Julia Fenderson,
who led a group of readers in the Los Angeles area [read
Julia's letter]. They were all members
of the First Urantia Society of Los Angeles, the local chapter of the
Brotherhood, and they met monthly. I was assured that the group was more
like a book club than a church or a new religion, that there were no
rituals or traditions, and that joining would put me on the mailing list
and keep me in touch with these wonderful people. I became a member even
though I had never joined anything before in my life.
Giving a
talk on the day I joined FUSLA. Behind me (left to right) are Julia
Fenderson, Kermit Anderson, and Gregory Wedyvu (who joined on the same
day).
My name
was Saskia Palay at the time.
For
about a year I attended local study groups, did volunteer work on the Agondonter
newsletter, and received mail from “headquarters” in Chicago,
treasuring every pamphlet and piece of paper as holy writ. I visited Julia
often and learned about Dr. Sadler and the origins of the Book, a subject
that endlessly fascinated me. I found out that there were two separate
organizations, the Foundation to publish the book and the Brotherhood as
the social arm. To me, it sounded like one big, happy organization with no
dividing line. I’d had reservations beforehand, but once a member I felt
quite happy to be part of such a select group of individuals, more so
after discovering how rare it was for someone to accept the revelation. It
made sense that there would need to be a “clearinghouse” to put
readers in touch with one another to form study groups, to organize conferences and encourage
the formation of teams for spreading the good news.
Then,
one day around 1979, something terrible happened. I opened a fat envelope announcing
the severance of a Urantia group in Houston, Texas, from the people
in Chicago. [Read correspondence related to the Houston affair here
and here]
The
tone was unspiritual. I was shattered. Was there trouble in Paradise? If a
serious problem existed, why couldn’t it have been worked out in such a
way that it set an example of how those in possession of higher knowledge
dealt with friction and disharmony? Why did they have to "go to
law" against each other?
Everyone
I questioned about it talked a party line. I couldn’t understand what
the Texas people had done to be expelled, and I was left feeling
embarrassed for "headquarters." To preach the gospel but not act it out
was a mockery. Right then I wanted to un-join, but at the same time I
needed to stay connected to my new soulmates. While my
enthusiasm for the Urantia Book itself knew no bounds, I lost interest in
attending official meetings. Whenever I bought someone a Urantia Book I would first
remove and discard the leaflet inviting the new reader to join the
“tainted” Brotherhood.
Another
thing that bothered me was a budding traditionalism at Urantia gatherings.
Jesus had declared that he was reducing all rituals down to one—a supper
to be held in memory of him. To me, this meant we should all gather for a
big, festive meal, brought together by our common understanding of higher
universe laws. Instead, at the Los Angeles gatherings for the August 21
Jesus’ birthday celebration, a goblet was passed around and the holder
was expected to say something inspirational about Jesus. The first time it
seemed like a nice thing to do and I went along with it, but when this
happened for the second and third time, following certain rules that
someone had established, alarm bells rang inside me. This was a cultlike
ritual, and if someone didn’t put a stop to it, or do something to make
it different each time, it would become associated with the Book and scare
away honest seekers who might be offended by it. My reaction was to
boycott all gatherings where the goblet was to be passed. Few openly
agreed with my stance, or were able to see the future negative
repercussions of what, to them, was a beautiful tribute to Jesus.
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Notwithstanding
the Master's effort thus to establish this new sacrament of the
remembrance, those who followed after him in the intervening centuries saw
to it that his express desire was effectively thwarted in that his simple
spiritual symbolism of that last night in the flesh has been reduced to
precise interpretations and subjected to the almost mathematical precision
of a set formula. Of all Jesus' teachings none have become more
tradition-standardized.[1492]
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For
the next sixteen years my involvement with the movement was relatively
low-key. I married a reader named Andy Raevouri who, it later turned out,
had only been briefly and superficially interested in the Jesus papers. I heard through the grapevine about other lawsuits and about the
disgrace and downfall of the cult of Vern Bennom Grimsley, and I was
vaguely aware of the 1989 “split” between the Urantia Foundation and
the Urantia Brotherhood. I became so disenchanted that I even stopped
opening their mail.
***
In
1983 I had created a study aid called “The Evolution of Life on
Earth,” which depicted my concept of how all life on our planet was
interrelated. [Click
here to see it.] While crude, it was helpful and quite popular. I
printed up five hundred copies and managed to distribute most of them over
the years.
Showing
my newly printed evolution chart to Polly Friedman in 1983
I
had practically forgotten about it when around 1994 it received a revival of sorts by
being offered through the now-defunct Good Cheer Press catalog, produced by the
Jesusonian Foundation. This triggered a series of events that brought me
back into the movement. I joined a local study group and made some new
friends, including Paula Thompson of Jesusonian. Early in 1997 I contacted Urantia Foundation to buy a copy of the
French translation of the UB, and during my conversation with Foundation
representative Bob Solone it came up that I was the creator of the
evolution chart, for which the Foundation had had requests. Bob told
me how much he liked it and that the Foundation had been trying to locate
me, that they were interested in publishing and distributing it. I was
flattered and made arrangements to spend a week in Chicago,
combining the revision of my chart with volunteer work at the legendary
533 Diversey Parkway.
Around
the same time I received an invitation for the fortieth anniversary
reunion party of the First Urantia Society of Los Angeles, of which I was
apparently still a member although I hadn’t paid dues for many years. It
was to take place June 24, 1997, at the Renaissance Hotel near the Los
Angeles airport. Thinking it would be fun to see all those old faces
again, I decided to attend what turned out to be a milestone event in my
life. Here is where I met my future partner, Matthew Block. Matthew was
working for the Fellowship (formerly the Brotherhood) in Chicago and was present in an official
capacity.
At
this event I was shocked by the reaction I received when I mentioned that
I’d soon be going to Chicago to visit the folks at 533. I’d had no
idea how bitter the split was—had barely known the difference between the
Foundation and the Brotherhood/Fellowship. The last time I
had seen former FUSLA president Scott Forsythe was in the late ’70s, as
he was leaving Los Angeles to work at headquarters in Chicago. “How are
things at the Foundation?” I asked innocently. Scott looked at me as if
I had marbles in my head. I made a few similar faux pas before realizing
that I had stumbled into a war zone and had better watch my words. The
deep-seated animosity between the two camps could only spell
disaster for our revelation, and I knew I had to get involved, to do
something to try to heal this wound.
I
also began to wonder if it was wise to let the Foundation take over
my evolution chart, which merely represented one person’s simplified
version of a complex subject. Matthew Block had pointed out some flaws in
the chart. I saw that no matter how much it was corrected and polished up,
it would never be good enough to carry the three-concentric-circles logo.
And worse, innocent readers might be misled into believing it to be an
official interpretation, which would stifle their own creative attempts to
visualize the subject. The Foundation, it became clear to me, was to deal
strictly with the primary work—the unadulterated and inviolate text of
the Urantia Book and its translations—and should leave secondary and
derivative works to others. I wrote them a letter saying so [click
here to read it]. However, as I had already booked air and hotel, I
told them I was coming to Chicago to visit anyway, to meet them and do
whatever volunteer work they had for me.
Blissfully
ignorant of the real factors that led to the split and who was
“good” or “bad,” I spent a wonderful week in Chicago, staying at
the nearby Surf Hotel. Every day I would go in to 533, where I met and
fell in love with Executive Director Tonia Baney and her husband Steve,
Australian volunteers Trevor and Kathleen Swadling, Foundation staff Bob
Solone and Damian and Joan Bondi, and two visitors—California reader
Jane Ploetz and Finnish translator Seppo Kanerva. Tonia assigned me the
task of double-checking the UB quotes which the submitters of secondary
works had used in their books, setting me up in a back room with a
computer. Every day as we worked and ate together, we discussed the
spiritual and political aspects of the revelation and had a great time
laughing and getting to know each other.
Having
already been exposed to the Fellowship’s feelings about the split, I now
got the Foundation’s angle. Just weeks ago, they told me, a court had
reversed an earlier decision that had placed the book in the public
domain, and the Foundation now had the copyright back. The atmosphere at
533 was one of jubilation and confidence.
I
also learned that the Foundation, after the split, had created its own new
social organization—the International Urantia Association (IUA)—to
carry the trademarked logo and the name “Urantia,” and to disseminate
the teachings in “an orderly fashion,” as a substitute for the
disenfranchised Brotherhood. The Foundation, it seemed, now had
everything: a book publishing monopoly and an official membership
organization pledged to support its policies and procedures. The Fellowship, by
contrast, was left with its current members and supporters, but with
little chance for growth. Most potential
members appeared only after contacting the address in the front of the
book. Since the Foundation listed only the name of its own organization
and no longer shared new readers’ names with the Fellowship, the
Fellowship’s life support had been cut off and it was now just a matter
of time before it passed into history. What troubled me most about this
was that the IUA, like the Brotherhood before it, had been artificially
created by a tiny group of people to be the "authentic"
organization, representing a revelation meant for the entire world. With
enough support, it could grow into a large but exclusive religious
organization like the Catholic Church.
There
were many issues that I didn’t agree with the Foundation on, and I told
them so. For instance, I understood the mandate in the Declaration of
Trust, to preserve the text inviolate, as applying only to the Foundation
and not to other groups or individuals. The Foundation’s
mission, I believed, was to continue to publish the complete book, even if
others split it up. If the trustees could see it my way, it would relieve
them of their “duty” to go around policing what the rest of the
readership was doing with the revelation, and still be faithful to their
trust.
Another
matter that I couldn’t comprehend was the Foundation’s ownership of
the concentric circles logo. If this was the cause of so much strife, why couldn’t the trustees release
it to
the world and adopt another symbol for the work they were doing? It’s true that
Melchizedek wore this emblem on his breastplate to represent himself in a
barbaric world, but Jesus did not identify himself with the circles; he came to wean us away from such material icons and
fetishes. Not surprisingly, nobody took my suggestion seriously. (At that
time I thought it would be a good idea to use the concentric-circles
symbol to signify the full and unadulterated text, for all publishers of
the revelation, like the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, but I have
since changed my mind. That would be a recipe for more litigation, as
those who believe this symbol should be free for all would rebel and taunt
the Foundation by using it to provoke another lawsuit.)
On
Tuesday evening, a study group was held in the room on the second floor of
533 where the historic Forum meetings had taken place. I came away from my visit satisfied that, although we
didn’t see eye to eye on very much, all involved were sincere believers
in and workers for the revelation.
Visiting
the
Tuesday night study group at 533. From left: Bob Solone, Trevor Swadling,
Steve Baney, ?, Saskia Raevouri, Tonia Baney, Kathleen Swadling, ?, Jane
Ploetz, ?.
Back
home in Los Angeles, I reconnected with the local Urantia community by
attending a weekly study group at the home of Hal and Lucille Kettell, in
Arcadia. In addition, the Kettells hosted monthly Teaching Mission
sessions—a Sunday potluck followed by transmissions from
teachers. [Read
about the history of the TeaM here.] The TeaM
sessions were wonderful social occasions and I grew to love these brothers
and sisters as sincere religionists devoted to doing God’s will and
spreading the benign virus of love. Few seemed politically inclined and
most were content within their own group. And the substance of the
transmissions was perfectly in line with the teachings of Jesus.
I
also began hearing about other groups that were associating themselves
with the name Urantia. My UB friend Polly Friedman told me about a cult of
readers in Sedona—the Aquarian Concepts Community—whose charismatic
leader called himself Gabriel. Polly was horrified when I immediately sent away for all of his
books, which claimed to be a continuation of the Urantia revelation. While
Gabriel's message didn’t “speak” to me, I could accept the possibility
that with all we have yet to learn in our eternal career, Gabriel’s path
may be what some are meant to take.
Around
this time I became computer savvy, and the world of email discussion
groups opened up to me. Here I really got to taste the hostility between
the two “official” camps, and by studying the historical documents
posted by webmaster David Kantor on the Fellowship’s website, I learned
what had really led up to the split. [Read the history by clicking
here.]
Almost
from the day Dr. Sadler died in 1969, the movement was marked by
litigation and a jockeying for control, from the Foundation’s copyright
suit against Robert Burton in 1970 to its 1997 suit against Kristen Maaherra
in Arizona. Burton was ousted from the
Brotherhood because he campaigned for a more affordable Urantia Book and
other reforms; Maaherra’s crime was her production
and distribution of a searchable folio version of the
book. At first I was devastated for our revelation. How could the
publisher of a religious work sue its own flock? These people were its
friends, not its enemies. Was the Foundation acting in the name of protecting
the book, as it claimed, or was it guilty of
self-glorification, believing itself the chosen messenger authorized to use the legal system to ward off all competition? Organizations dedicated
to spreading the teachings became defunct, having lost their resources
defending themselves in court—no match for the
mighty Foundation, which seemed to have unlimited funds for lawyers.
From
what I could gather, the
1989 split was the result of the Foundation's insistence that all activity
be
marketed with its own stamp, and at its own pace. Its policy of
"slow growth" seemed to be causing "retarded growth." All
secondary works or even talks given at Urantia conferences which quoted
from the Urantia Book had to be approved or disapproved by a board who
felt the revelation had been given over to their charge, in the name of
protecting it. Brotherhood societies who opposed the Foundation's policies
were branded as rebels and ordered to remove the name "Urantia"
from the work they were doing to avoid court action. Both sides compared
themselves to Van and Amadon, standing steadfast for the truth.
As
I read the documents leading up to the split, my
original belief in having no membership organization at all was
reconfirmed. With the
Internet, people could find each other without having to go through the
intermediary of what looked like a cult with major baggage. I, like many
other concerned readers, wrote several posts and letters with suggestions
for “healing” the movement. [Click
here to read a sample.]
Sunday potluck at the Kettells circa
1997
In
1997, I met Norman Ingram at one of the Kettells’ potlucks. Norman had
recently returned from South America, on an independent mission of placing
Urantia Books in libraries and universities there. When he told me he
needed funds to go to Africa on a similar mission, I hit upon the idea of
collecting everyone’s “how I found the Urantia Book” stories via
email, and publishing them in a book that could be sold. My
motives were: first, to raise money for Norman; second, to bring under one
umbrella all so-called enemies to show that they were spiritual
brothers under the skin; third, to provide a historical document of how
the Urantia Book had made its way into the world in its first few decades;
and fourth, to illustrate that it was unnecessary to have a leading cult or
organization in the movement—no IUA, no Fellowship, no Aquarian Concepts
Community. The “official” Urantia movement was made up of many
individual truth-seekers and small groups of like-minded kingdom workers.
This book would paint that picture better than anything else.
Over
the next few months I waged an email campaign, netting over
two-hundred stories. With funds from the contributors’ preorders, I
self-published the first edition of How
I Found the Urantia Book, and sold many copies. About $8,000 was raised and handed over to Norman for his African mission,
along with extra copies of HIFTUB for him to use as an outreach tool. Working with
hundreds of individuals to revise and edit their stories for publication
gave me the chance to understand different paths and viewpoints, as well
as make many new friends. [The revised edition, with one hundred more stories,
was
published in 2002.]
HIFTUB first edition |
HIFTUB second edition |
In
the late ’90s we began hearing rumblings of a drive for unity within the
movement. Past dealings of a secretive nature between movement leaders
were now being exposed for all to scrutinize; and with the court cases
more and more embarrassing information was coming to light which was
conveniently blamed on ousted past leaders, such as Vern Grimsley and
Martin Myers. This call for peace, however, was doomed. Each
side expected the other to bend and merge under its own peculiar umbrella,
in a cookie-cutter unity, not a unity with diversity. They were not ready
to relinquish control, accept each other as equals and coexist harmoniously.
As
the Foundation and the Brotherhood were busy fighting it out like the Hatfields and the McCoys,
another phenomenon began developing on the sidelines. As long as the two
majors had put up a united front, the Teaching
Mission and like groups had had no chance to thrive. History shows that
past factions which operated outside the Foundation/Brotherhood
establishment were quickly mowed down. Two examples are Urantian
Research episode in 1971 and the
CUBS tragedy of the late 1980s.
But once the two main groups began to focus all their resources and
energies on each other, the field opened for the true brotherhood of
believers to come forward without fear of persecution. The two big
organizations were not exactly blind to the existence of these other
groups, but in the aura of their self-importance they paid scant attention
except, in the Foundation’s case, to denounce them as the “strange and
queer isms” the early leaders had been warned about. The following
remarks given to early leaders could apply to any Urantia Book group, including the IUA:
Many strange
isms and queer groups ... will seek to attach themselves to The
URANTIA Book and its far-flung influence. Your most trying
experiences will be with such groups who so loudly acclaim their
belief in the teachings of the Book and who will so persistently
seek to attach themselves to the movement. Great wisdom will be
required to guard against the distracting and distorting influence
of these multifarious groups and from equally distracting and
disturbing individuals, some well intentioned and some sinister, who
will strive to become a part of the authentic constituency of the
URANTIA movement. |
A
chilling case of what a Foundation-supported group can evolve into was
profiled
in the Summer 2002 USUA Messenger. In contrast to a statement
on the IUA site that the organization "welcomes people of all faiths,
races, and nationalities," the Urantia Association of Florida will not
accept members who belong to the Teaching Mission, who mention an interest in A Course in Miracles or
who retain a belief in reincarnation.
[Read both items here.] Had these IUA people misunderstood the
teachings of Jesus? Didn't they realize Team'ers were disseminating the teachings in their
own way? Did the IUA consider itself so special that it required the
gospel to be preached exclusively under its own narrow banner? And how could they reach out
across barriers when association was forbidden with those whose
philosophies were different or perhaps in transition?
On
a personal note,
in 2002 I was hounded out of the Foundation's email
discussion lists (urantiat and the forum list) when I announced that my new
UB-related study aid, "How Man and the Ape are Related," was
available for free on squarecircles.com. The list-op accused me of
"peddling my wares" and bringing inappropriate subject matter to
the Urantia Book study list. This accusation paved the way for the more fundamentalist
posters to
denounce me publicly for daring to create a visual aid to help understand
the teachings. ("Isn't
the book complete as is? Do we really need to add anything to it?") Prior to
that, macho members had charged me with unpatriotic behavior for my stance
against Bush's war on Iraq, and at an earlier time I withstood Rottweiler-like attacks
after I
suggested that communication with the dead could be true, that I
wanted to leave the door open to the possibility. While these lists are supposedly open to all, only "IUA-approved
thinking" is tolerated. Does the Foundation want the intimidating
conduct of its supporters to be the first thing new readers encounter on
the Internet?
That the IUA was the
legally established representative of an epochal revelation designed to build bridges on
our already-backward planet was a travesty
to me. Its propped-up “teachers and leaders” were so intolerant that
only God’s angels could have orchestrated such a scenario to prevent the
organization from growing. “Truth-seekers need not apply,” seemed to be their
motto. One day I had a comforting insight that it was not God’s will for such an insular group
to be given celestial help, and my fears that the fabricated IUA would
dominate the movement were quickly dispelled.
As
opposed to the IUA, which threatened to disfellowship anyone caught
“cheating,” the Fellowship began striving for an image of
inclusiveness. When it became apparent that groups were forming and
growing “on the outside,” I heard someone on the General Council
suggest that the Fellowship offer “franchises” to these groups, under
the Fellowship name. For instance, the Teaching Mission would have its own
charter as a component of the Fellowship. With membership dropping off
steadily, and with no easy way to gain new members, the Fellowship had no
choice but to make moves to attract the unaffiliated flock to increase its
numbers.
But
they did not understand the new “movement.” With the Internet, it was
no longer necessary to join an organization to find compatible friends.
The TeaM’ers had no intention of organizing themselves into a group with
regulations and bylaws. They could stay in touch with one another via
computer, hold their own conferences and follow their own rules—or have no
rules at all. Rob Crickett and his supporters were free to do the same. The big organizations had made themselves obsolete, and by
dividing they had weakened themselves so badly that they were unable to
fight the tide of new and vigorous groups. They were now only as good as
the work they were doing, or preventing each other from doing.
In
2001 a milestone in the movement occurred when Harry McMullan's Michael
Foundation, publisher of Jesus—A New Revelation, won a lawsuit
brought against him by Urantia Foundation. [For
details of the case, click
here; for readers' viewpoints pro and con, click
here.]
When the jury returned the
verdict, the revelation was returned to public domain, and all
attempts by Urantia Foundation to regain the copyright have failed.
Take
a look at the great Urantia Supreme Being
(pictured at the beginning of this article) as it exists in 2003. The three concentric circles are in the center. No group can
occupy this sacred spot, and the Foundation must eventually relinquish the
universal symbol if it truly seeks peace and harmony. All must divest
themselves of ideas of religious sovereignty and learn to coexist
peacefully inside the big circle, to work at what they are led to do, and
to recognize, support and encourage one another. The only competition
should be in the doing of good works. There is room for all and room to grow. All
are children of God and a part of the Supreme Being, and all have their
roles to play. No longer are the Foundation or the Fellowship greater or
lesser than any of the other slices of the pie.
"Each according to his works."
With
all the talk of Urantians reaching out to Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus,
Catholics, Baptists and other religionists, we will not be
taken seriously if we don’t first make peace with ourselves, by getting
to know and love everyone inside the big circle. This can be
accomplished if we stop trying to convert and control one another and
instead begin accepting our differences, as in the days of Cymboyton, in
Urmia. If Urantians could regard the concentric circles as the symbolic
Cymboyton presiding over our movement, we would truly have unity with
diversity. And then would we be ready to face the other great
religions—and the New Age movement as well—as a fine example of a
group that knows how to put higher teachings into practice.
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The
Urmia religionists lived together in comparative peace and tranquility
because they had fully surrendered all their notions of religious
sovereignty. Spiritually, they all believed in a sovereign God; socially,
full and unchallengeable authority rested in their presiding head—Cymboyton.
They well knew what would happen to any teacher who assumed to lord it
over his fellow teachers. There can be no lasting religious peace on
Urantia until all religious groups freely surrender all their notions of
divine favor, chosen people, and religious sovereignty. Only when God the
Father becomes supreme will men become religious brothers and live
together in religious peace on earth. [1487]
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The
split was necessary to allow the true brotherhood of believers to emerge
and flourish. This could hardly have happened had the two organizations
found a way to stay united and strong. The split was a blessing in disguise, a
perfect example of how the seraphic planetary government operates behind
the scenes to “make things what they ought to be.”
[This article will be updated very soon.] To
send
feedback, contact Saskia |
Pictured
above: The Supreme Urantia Being of 2003, which will soon be made "clickable."
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