I grew up in a home where we believed anyone who touched an illegal drug was working for the devil.
I was 12 when Nancy Reagan was the guest star on a very special episode of Different Strokes. She told us, in no uncertain terms, to “Just say no!” The president’s wife warned us it is not enough not to do drugs ourselves. We have to stay away from all the horrible, terrible, no good, evil people who have tasted the devil’s lettuce.
The author and his son at the International Church of Cannabis.
My church taught me that greedy people, misogynists and racists were not nearly as bad as those who have tried marijuana. As far as I could tell, everyone in my church believed it.
To be blunt, the war on drugs was, for us, the war on people who liked drugs. Mandatory drug sentences were incredibly harsh when compared with lighter sentences for crimes like abusing your spouse. I avoided drugs not just because I knew if I ever puffed the magic dragon, I would immediately be overcome by reefer madness and die, but because I did not want to be one of the horrible, terrible, no good, evil people.
A few weeks ago, I was visiting our son and I Googled “Ten best tourist attractions in Denver.” I have lived in New York long enough to be arrogant about it. It does not take long. I believe our museums are better, our parks are bigger and our theater is far superior.
But we do not have the No. 7 attraction in Denver — the International Church of Cannabis.
“The only joint I have ever rolled is my ankle.”
Perhaps I should not feel this, but I have friends who are not as cool as I am, so I feel the need to say that while I have no judgmental feelings toward members of the International Church of Cannabis, I have not, up to this point in my life, partaken in their holy sacrament. The only joint I have ever rolled is my ankle. I realize this makes me seem old and stodgy, and suggests I have lived a sheltered life, but I am old and stodgy, and have lived a sheltered life.
Caleb and I got there 20 minutes early, so we went first to the Fellowship Hall. The church looks like the Lutheran church it used to be, but there are video games, chess boards, foosball, a popcorn machine and tie-dye T-shirts for sale. People were having fun.
Caleb and I played on a ping pong table, made from a tree, that’s not regulation size. We enjoyed a little skee-ball. He likes it when I let him win.
We walked through “Gandhi’s Graffiti Garden,” which is decorated with quotes from Mahatma Gandhi:
- “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”
- “An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.”
- “When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator.”
The usher who welcomed us into the Sanctuary had more blue hair, tattoos and feathers than most of my church’s ushers, and she was every bit as friendly. The light show and meditation began with a quote from Søren Kierkegaard: “Prayer does not change God, but it changes the one who prays.”
We heard Laurence Fishburne from The Matrix ask, “Do you want to take the blue pill or the red pill?” I never can remember which is the right answer.
The laser program included songs from the ’60s about loving one another and doing drugs: “Magic Carpet Ride,” “White Rabbit” and “Purple Haze.” Their sanctuary has brighter colors than most — more purple and orange, less brown and white. They have fewer pews and more bean bags, but there were no jazz cigarettes in sight.
After the show was over, I had a conversation with a cheerful church member who explained: “We have employees, but no paid clergy. The light show pays the bills. The only time we allow pot in the building is on Friday night from 7 to 9, when we have a sacramental service for adult members. We have a monthly gathering for non-members with no cannabis.”
“I wanted to make a joke about saying Hail Mary Janes, but thought better of it.”
I wanted to make a joke about saying Hail Mary Janes, but thought better of it: “How has the church dealt with opposition?”
“When we were just starting, someone heard that the neighbors on either side of the church were unhappy, so we started mowing their lawns. That worked.”
We talked long enough for it to be clear that people go to his church for many of the same reasons people go to other churches. They want friends to share their lives with. They want their lives to be more meaningful. They want to work together to help the needy.
I have no desire to join the International Church of Cannabis, but the people I met were not the horrible, terrible, no good, evil people I was taught to fear. I wonder if my church lied about anyone else.
Brett Younger serves as senior minister at Plymouth Church in Brooklyn, N.Y.
