The woman’s name was Sumiko. I met her in front of The Main Library, 41st and Fifth Ave. The lecture took place in a room near by.

Honestly speaking, I was pretty impressed. They had a really fresh spin on Christianity. Their angle was that Jesus did not come to die, but rather to be married. He and his bride would then take the place of fallen Adam and Eve, through whom we could all be reborn and create the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. The reason that this did not occur the first time around was because John the Baptist could not unite with Jesus. John had the following and credibility, but rather than support Jesus, he continued doing his own thing. He couldn’t step out of the spotlight.

Reverend Moon also says that Christianity failed because they made a God out of Jesus, placing Jesus between God and themselves, thus blocking their own path to divinity. Divine Principle (the ideology of the Unification Church) teaches that Jesus was God’s Son, but that we are all Sons and Daughters of God.

I had heard of Reverend Moon back in Cincinnati as he had come to the city a few years earlier on one of his speaking tours. This was before the term “Moonie” was coined. He was seen as being a Dali Lama kind of a person – a mystical prophet from the East with a message of hope for the Western World. Mayors were giving him keys to their cities. He was respectfully received at the time.

On those early speaking tours, Unification Church members would plaster the city with posters of Reverend Moon’s face. Oddly enough, Chris’s designer boyfriend had done a series of photos while at the Art Academy of those very same posters in various states of decay. I thought it was a nice series.

After the lecture, Sumiko wanted me to sign-on for a whole series of lectures that were to take place at Barrytown, which is in up-state New York. I said sure, but she didn’t seem to believe me. I told her that I was indeed looking for something and that this might be it. At very least, I wanted to check it out. I told her that I had just finished reading the entire Bible a few days earlier as a condition to find internal direction in life, and so the timing seemed significant.

She didn’t believe that either. She came to the YMCA with me so that I could show her my Bible in my suitcase.

Barrytown was a trip. It was a really beautiful place, high on a hill, over-looking The Hudson River. I think it used to be a seminary. It was packed full of people just like me – young, idealistic and searching – and they came from all over the world. These weren’t street kids. They all seemed to be smart and educated.

I really don’t know how to account for it.

I can’t imagine the same kind of thing happening today.

It was like the stars lined up or something. All these people were seemingly prepared, and came together in support of Reverend Moon’s vision. It was actually quite wonderful to be a part of such a bright and inspired gathering. We thought for sure that we were going to change the world in a few years, if not in a month’s time.

Reverend Moon claimed to be the Messiah. He and his wife were the third Adam and Eve. (Jesus and the Holy Spirit were the second, but because he was crucified, their victory was limited to the spiritual realm.) By symbolically being reborn through “The True Parents” (by way of The Blessing / wedding ceremonies) we were going to create the substantial Kingdom of Heaven on earth.

Personally, I didn’t know if he really was the Messiah, but I didn’t know that he wasn’t either. I think I mostly related to him as being my older brother. I respected his course, the foundation he had made, the effort he was making, and the quality of people he was attracting. “You will know him by his fruit.”

One thing for sure is, much like my own cosmic experiences, his teaching was very much about everybody and everything – uniting all religions, nations, races and cultures - uniting science and religion. The fact that he showed up teaching these things, just when I was looking and expecting something or someone to tell me which way to go, was just too coincidental to ignore.

There was stuff I didn’t understand, or thought was over-the-top, but he was a Korean man and the leadership of the movement was near completely Asian.  I wrote off my misgivings as possibly being cultural misunderstanding. I was willing to give him a chance, and try to learn from him.

In any case, it would not of felt right had I left and gone back to Covington. The deal I had made with the universe was that if direction showed up, as long as I understood and believed in it, I would do whatever I was asked to do.

To say that this wasn’t good enough would have been like splitting hairs. It seemed to touch all the main bases.

I simply had to stay.

The 7-Day Workshop was followed by a 21-Day Workshop, which was followed by a 40-Day Workshop. This was supposed to be followed by a 120-Day Workshop, but Timmy was work-shopped out.

They asked me to join a mobile fundraising team (MFT) for what was supposed to be a month or two. I said sure, and then me and a number of others were sent to Texas in a van. We stayed at an MFT Center, which was a big house out in the country. The director was a Japanese guy named Hyashi. He was a real BANZI! kind of a guy. His voice was like a machine gun.

Still, he was a nice person, very warm, and he seemed to have a lot of depth to him. He told me that when he joined the church, he made a 7 year condition to not question or voice an opinion about anything, but rather to keep and open mind and absorb as much as possible.

I determined to do the same. I ended up staying on MFT for 7 years (which was not that unusual back then).

The hours were long: 15 hours a day, 364 days a year, with no pay. If it rained, we’d wear a poncho. We’d go door-to-door, business-to-business, bar-to-bar at night. Sometimes we would get dropped off in parking lots, other times we’d stand at traffic lights.

Getting out of the van was always incredibly hard. I never, ever wanted to get out of the van – but once out there, it wasn’t so bad. It’s almost like we’d get high doing it, and the people we would meet would feed off that high

There were no drugs, no drinking, and no sex. I didn’t even jerk off for the entire time I was on MFT. It wasn’t because I was suppressing desire, but rather because I just never thought about it. It was like I was thinking about something else.

We’d be running constantly. I got incredibly healthy.

We’d sell flowers or candy, trinkets or candles. I myself was not a very good seller, but some people would make over a thousand dollars a day.

For a while, I became a captain – the driver of the van. Captains didn’t do a lot of fundraising, but rather moved people around, replenishing product and stuff like that.

My team was the lowest selling team in the country. They gave me all the problem members, who all seemed to like being on my team, as I think we were a little more laid back than others. We didn’t make a lot of money, but we all seemed to like each other and we had a nice time.

We’d sleep in the van almost every night and wash up at truck stops. Sometimes we’d get a hotel room for “the sisters”, and then the brothers would use the bathroom in the morning.

Mostly I fundraised in Texas and New Mexico, Maryland, West Virginia, Washington DC and lots of places in between as we moved around. Once a year for “God’s Day” (January 1st) we would come back to New York to hear Reverend Moon’s speech. We’d fundraise the entire way in and the whole way back.

It was hard work, and I’d rather eat glass than do another day of it, but honestly speaking, it was a hell of an education. It was enlightening and inspiring on all kinds of levels.

Seen another way, it was what I wanted to do with The Wilder Scholarship (had I won it) squared. I saw and experienced, not just cities, but the insides of nearly every home and business in that city, and all the small towns in between.

I stopped having my cosmic experiences during this time. It was a quiet time, a meditative time, for me to think about everything, with a pretty wide swath of everything unfolding in front of me every day.

Once my seven years were up, I started lobbying leadership to allow me to return to doing art, as I thought I had real potential in that area. The Moonies were a very controversial group by this time, but I was still real positive about the movement. I thought, as an artist, I could do some effective public relations work.

I was sent back to NYC and asked to attend Reverend Moon’s trial for tax evasion, and do drawings of the proceedings for church archives.

This trial, and the fact that he was found guilty, is something that critics of the movement would always point to, but I thought it was total bullshit. I think it was mostly about a certain District Attorney trying to make a name for himself by going after an unpopular target.

The crux of the case was that when Reverend Moon first came to the United States, before the church was incorporated, they held church funds in an account under his name. They didn’t pay tax, as it was a religious organization, but offered to do so once the complaint was registered. They were not given the opportunity. They then asked for a trial by judge, but were also denied that option. The trial was so complex (hundreds of graphs recording financial data) that members of the jury were constantly falling asleep. The attorneys for Reverend Moon conceded almost everything.

Of course he was found guilty. Of course.

Reverend Moon was sent to prison with Mr. Kamiyama, and one of their jobs was to clean the dining room. Mr. Kamiyama testified that Reverend Moon would insist on crawling underneath the tables and wiping down the legs of the tables and chairs every time – insisting on doing a perfect job.

This is the amazing side of Reverend Moon, and there are so many personal testimonies like that. On a personal level, the guy seemed to always be extremely focused and dedicated, always pushing himself to set the highest standard.

But his family, and the movement itself, became a total train wreck.

When we were on MFT, we’d save every penny. We were so careful with money, never spending anything on ourselves, sending it all to NY, always thinking that it was being wisely invested in providential projects.

Once I got back to NYC, what I discovered really sickened me. Turns out there were two very distinct classes of members: people who raised money and worked for peanuts (if they got paid at all), and leadership people who were throwing money around like crazy, and spending tons of it on themselves.

I myself had no personal complaints. After the trial, I was pretty much set free to pursue a career in art, and was even given free studio space in one of the buildings owned by the church for the first year or so. For all practical purposes, I was no longer a member of the organization.

But I could not stand by and witness such abusive practices and not say anything. Not after having invested seven years of life on MFT. Not with the knowledge of the hundreds of really pure and dedicated members I had crossed paths with who believed in the same ideals I did.

So I became an outspoken critic of the movement. Not of it’s ideals, not of Reverend Moon per se (I just thought that he was unaware of what was going on in his name) but I did indeed work my way up the leadership ladder naming names and pointing out specific abuses. I had a mailing list of over 120 leaders and members.

Eventually, one of Reverend Moon’s kids asked to meet with me. I thought he was interested in my ideas, but instead, he sucker-punched me and started kicking me in the ribs.

This was followed by a second episode that was much the same. I was made out to be the official Satan of the movement.

Rather than retreat (the pressure was intense – this was The Messiah’s movement after all) I ramped up my criticism, and eventually rallied all kinds of support to my side.

I’m sure thousands of people were influenced to leave the movement due to my actions.

I eventually wrote 18 public letters to Reverend Moon, and sent copies to numerous others. He didn’t reply, so I more or less forgot about the movement.

In retrospect, I appreciate the movement for instilling high ideals and giving me the time and space to figure out what it was that I wanted to do with my life, with my own cosmic vision as my foundation.

I got to meet and live with (sometimes in the close proximity of a van) people from all over the world of different race, culture and nationality.

I got to travel around America, and see how diverse people lived, worked, and played. It was a mind-expanding experience.

The movement also got me established in NYC, which is no small thing for an artist who isn’t born and raised there. I was even matched and married to a professional Japanese businesswoman, who covered most of our bills early on so that I could make my artistic foundation. (I’ll write about Misako in a separate chapter.)

The Unification Church was such an education.

It gave me so much insight into all religious movements, as nearly all of them started out the same way. It was a profound experience in group dynamics centering on one man’s vision. 

Finally, being the heretic, gave me so much experience pertaining to what it is like to stand against the stream of popular opinion. That experience left me with a ton of confidence to not compromise my convictions.

In the years since I left the movement, I’ve found the same kind of abusive practices in so many realms of society.

It’s almost like, after having been a Moonie, I see cults everywhere, and they all function in much the same way. Good guys and bad guys. Go with the party line, don’t make waves, don’t think outside the box, or be ostracized.

I found the entire episode to be abundantly rich and rewarding, much more so than had I stayed in the big loft in Covington, where I probably would of killed myself with sex, drugs and alcohol.