Lest We Forget
[PLEASE NOTE FIRST: While the following is not graphic, it shares my experience of researching the Jonestown Massacre. It is disturbing at times, and rightfully so. Be forewarned!]
Yesterday afternoon I had a very disturbing experience. I was checking up on the news on cnn.com, when I saw that Soledad O’Brien was doing an extended piece on the Jonestown Massacre in 1978. Next week will be the 30th anniversary of that tragedy, and I realized that while I had heard a lot about Jonestown, I had never really found out much about what happened there. In today’s information age, this kind of stuff is easy to find, so I decided to do a little research.
Now I wish I hadn’t. But in a way, I’m glad I did. The story might be familiar to many of you – but it wasn’t to me.
First, I saw some videos of Jim Jones, and he sounded just like a normal preacher – he had a powerful voice, a strong delivery, and a familiarity with the bible that showed in the little “scripture snippets” he wove into his narrative. I didn’t agree with all of what he said, particularly his interpretation of some passages, but he seemed solid in his understanding. But I did agree with his assertion that Christians should be involved in repairing a broken society. In fact, if I didn’t know the rest of the story, I probably would have thought he was just another preacher like myself… just a bit more conservative.
Jones’ popularity and wide audience in his early ministry, along with his strong convictions for racial equality, made him a natural choice as director of the Human Rights Commission in Indianapolis. His speeches about the treatments of blacks were impassioned and persuasive. African-Americans were drawn to his cause and to his “church.”
When he met with resistance to integration, Jones did not follow the urging of other Civil Rights leaders to remain peaceful. Instead, he encouraged a militant attitude, saying that perhaps more violent measures were required to “free” the black people from their slavery. While not in line with other leaders of the day, Jones’ ideas were not radical, and they made him even dearer to his congregation, of whom nearly three-quarters were black.
He equated socialism and communism with the Kingdom of God (which isn’t hard to do, by the way). He preached that everyone should share their wealth and resources just as Jesus preached, and he tried to form villages and communes that reflected these ideals. Again, nothing unusual – many others were saying and doing similar things in these turbulent times.
After Jones’ ideals met with resistance in his home state of Indiana, he moved his ever-growing flock to California. His numbers swelled, even as his ideas drew scrutiny from the media and the US government. Finally, convinced that the US was trying to destroy him, Jones moved with his family and nearly 1,000 other followers to a remote spot in the South American nation of Guyana – a few hundred acres carved out of the jungle that they named “Jonestown.”
Because he shunned visits and especially media, many were unaware that Jones’ teachings were becoming more and more radical. He used end-justifies-the-means arguments to get his followers in the Temple to do things that were questionable at best. He actually had his people cheering as he explained why it was OK that he had sex with many of the women in his cult – his deep godly love for his “children” made them all “attractive” to him.
And why would they question? His followers had watched Jones fight for racial rights, had seen him defend the People’s Temple against attacks by the government and media. He constantly declared that his actions were motivated by his love for them, so they followed as he gave them instructions for forming a socialist paradise. They did not question as he asked them to do things that seem, to you and me, very wrong.
Concerned for the safety of their loved ones, family members of the Jonestown residents urged the US government to investigate Jim Jones and his People’s Temple. The investigation led a US Senator, Leo Ryan from California, to fly to Guyana with a contingent of family and other officials. Jones was receptive at first, but soon his paranoia won out. Jones ordered his followers to murder Senator Ryan, asserting that if Ryan’s contingent made it back to the US, they would spread lies about Jonestown and the US government would take action.
Then came the most chilling part – listening to the tape that was made as Jones met with his followers following the murder of Senator Ryan. Using scripture and using affirmations of his love for them, Jones tells his followers that they must take action. They mostly agree, and come to the microphone to ask questions about their next course of action.
Throughout the 45-minute tape, Jones smoothly and skillfully guides their comments and discussion toward his desired outcome (once you know the end of the story, you can easily tell where he’s leading them). Early in the tape, they suspect that the government is going to come and take them and their children back to the US. In just a few short minutes, they progress to the certainty that the US army will invade with guns and kill everyone in Jonestown, and torture their children.
There is only one course of action, Jones says, only one solution. They will lay down their lives, rather than have their lives taken from them. Jones orders them to bring in vats filled with a deadly mixture of kool-aid and cyanide poison. With calm voices, he and his assistants organize the people to follow the predetermined plan – they will kill the children first, to make sure they are safely “taken care of.”
You can hear the people milling about, getting their cups of kool-aid. Meanwhile, music plays and Jones tells his “children” how much he loves them, and what good things await them on the other side. You can hear the agonizing cries of children as they experience painful spasms, and the heartwrenching despair of the mothers as they watch their children die.
Then the adults have their turn. Some take time at the microphone to express their love for Jones, and their “appreciation for all you’ve done.” “We’re doing this for you,” one lady tells him, presumably as she drinks the poison.
There is no remorse in Jones’ voice as he tells his followers to remain calm, to face death with dignity. There is no audible sound of his sorrow that his “children” are dying painful deaths. Eventually, all you hear is a few moans and silence, except for sad and soulful music playing from a record player in the background…
Why did I write all this? It was horrible to hear, horrible to recount in words – I can still hear the children’s screams as I type. I’m trembling, as I have been for the last day.
I tremble because all of this was done in the name of God. Because Jim Jones sounded nearly all the preachers I’ve ever heard – myself included. The rhetoric is the same, the same imagery and figures of speech. I imagine if I played this for someone in my church who didn’t know what the tape was, and took out a few key parts, they’d likely think it was a church business meeting about something very sad and important.
I tremble because of how easily the people were manipulated. Jones had done good things for them – fought for their rights, for their freedom, for their equality. He had expressed his honest religious and political beliefs, and told them he was always acting in their best interests. And they believed him. And they followed him – from Indiana, to California, to Guyana… to the grave.
I tremble because I see how easy it can be for those in leadership – and especially in spiritual leadership – to misuse the position they’ve been given to accomplish their own ends. We see it all the time, and while the consequences are rarely so ghastly, they are equally as life-destroying: Ministers who abuse their emotional influence and lead their congregants into affairs; Holy men who convince their followers that violence is the only way to resolve their disputes; Priests who use their positions of power to exert sexual influence over children; Pastors who use their time in the pulpit to convince their listeners of a particular social or political viewpoint.
I tremble because I never heard the story of Jonestown in seminary, never hear of it being discussed in churches. And I wonder how God’s people can so easily forget something that was done in the name of their God, and how we can be so easily led away from God by someone claiming to speak on God’s behalf.
I tremble because it could happen again. And I’m writing so that I’ll never forget.
