Cargo cult lives on in South Pacific

I’m just going to start off by quoting the funniest line in this article:

A Christian youth worker told me how he thought the cult was childish. “It’s like a baby playing games,” he insisted. “Those people are holding on to a dream that will never come true,” he said.

Cargo cult lives on in South Pacific

At the base of a sacred volcano in an isolated corner of the South Pacific young men play the “Star Spangled Banner” on bamboo flutes.

Every February they parade in old US army uniforms with wooden weapons.

Others go bare-chested with the letters “USA” painted in bright red letters on their bodies.

Nearby, a giant Stars and Stripes flutters in the breeze from the main flagpole.

This is the heart of John Frum country on the island of Tanna in Vanuatu.

Villagers at Sulphur Bay worship a mystical figure who they believe will one day bring them wealth and happiness.

Time of upheaval

“John is our god,” declares village chief Isaac Wan, who beats his fists into the ground to emphasise his words.

“One day he will come back,” he says.

Believers are convinced that John Frum was an American.

The name could well have come from war-time GIs who introduced themselves as “Jon from America.”

Devotees say that the ghost of a mystical white man first appeared before tribal elders in the 1930s.

It urged them to rebel against the aggressive teachings of Christian missionaries and the influence of Vanuatu’s British and French colonial masters.

The apparition told villagers to do all they could to retain their own traditions.

Anthropologist Ralph Reganvalu told the BBC that the sect was a “cultural preservation movement” that was born during a time of upheaval.

“There was a whole period in history known as Tanna Law where the missionaries put in this series of rules about what people weren’t supposed to do and the movement emerged because of this oppression,” he said.

Homage to the US

World War II and the arrival of US troops on Vanuatu was a defining time for the movement. They had a name for their spiritual deity. He was John Frum.

Villagers believe that their messiah was responsible for delivering to them the munificence of the US military.

They were awestruck by the army’s cargo of tanks, weapons, refrigerators, food and medicine.

John Frum day is held annually on 15 February. This year’s celebration marks the 50th anniversary of the sect’s formal establishment.

It also recognises the day when villagers raised the US flag for the first time.

Through this homage to the US, disciples hope their ethereal saviour can be encouraged to return.

“It’s a little bit weird but it makes me feel really patriotic,” said Marty Meth, a retired businessman from New York, who had travelled to Tanna to see the festivities.

“It’s really nice to see Americans welcome here since in so many places in the world we’re not so welcome these days,” he added.

Waiting and hoping

Sulphur Bay lies in the shadow of Mount Yasur, an active volcano whose roar can be heard far away.

Many followers of John Frum believe his spirit lives deep within the volcano.

Every few minutes Yasur bellows.

Watching and listening from the crater’s edge is both exhilarating and frightening. A deafening growl is followed by the blasting of molten rock high into the sky.

These rumblings are a constant reminder for villagers that the spirit of John Frum remains as potent as ever.

About 20% of Tanna’s population of 30,000 follow the teachings of one of the world’s last remaining cargo cults.

Other islanders can barely disguise their contempt for it.

A Christian youth worker told me how he thought the cult was childish. “It’s like a baby playing games,” he insisted. “Those people are holding on to a dream that will never come true,” he said.

I put this view to Rutha, who’s married to Chief Isaac’s son. She was unfazed.

“I don’t care what they think,” she says gently without a hint of displeasure. “John is our Jesus and he will come back.”

The John Frum Movement is still trying to entice another delivery of cargo from its supernatural American god.

In the meantime his disciples continue to wait and hope.

Canadians are leery about mixing politics and religion

Canadians are leery about mixing politics and religion

What do Democrats Barack Obama and Joe Biden, and Republicans John McCain and Sarah Palin, have in common?

All four candidates for U.S. president and vice-president have made it clear, exceedingly clear, they’re proud Christians.

None is willing to follow the wishes of many annoyed Canadians and refrain from ending speeches with “God bless America.”

Religion, specifically Christianity, plays a much bigger role in American politics than it does north of the border. God talk just can’t be avoided down there — thanks to the overwhelming Protestant presence.

And even though it’s not unethical by definition to invoke a Supreme Being from a political stage, the practice can be manipulated. It can even be abused for demogoguery, through suggesting, for instance, questionable wars and policies reflect “God’s will.”

That doesn’t mean the word God doesn’t ever sneak into Canadian politics. Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper, who is quiet about his loyalty to the evangelical Alliance Church, will sometimes talk of his faith, carefully. Harper has also been known to declare “God bless Canada.”

Former Liberal PM Jean Chretien, a Catholic, occasionally mentioned God, including in this novel way: “God gave me a physical defect [a facial tic] . . . but I accepted that because God gave me other qualities and I’m grateful.”

Still, there are many fascinating reasons Canadian politicians are much less inclined than their American counterparts to, as typically skeptical Canadians might put it, “play the God card.”

I’ll cite a few of them.

The most obvious is the rising strength of white evangelical Protestants. They make up one out of four Americans.

They feel divinely motivated to convert others to their Jesus, and some are ready to use politics as part of that. Seventy-eight per cent of conservative white evangelicals voted for George W. Bush in the past two presidential campaigns. It made all the difference.

Conservative politicians north of the border don’t have this huge religious voting advantage because fewer than one out of 10 Canadians belong to evangelical churches.

And while many evangelicals quietly support Canada’s Conservatives — half of Harper’s caucus of MPs are evangelical — most don’t have any illusions they can openly bring most Canadians onside with their beliefs.

Canadians are like secularized Europeans that way. Of the world’s industrialized countries, the U.S. is the most religious and most Christian.

It wasn’t always this way.

In the early 20th century, Canada had a much higher percentage of the population attending churches than in the U.S., as North America’s leading historian of religion, Mark Noll (an evangelical), writes in A History of Christianity in Canada and the U.S.

Beginning in the 1950s, however, Canadian church attendance dropped off dramatically, as it did in Europe. At the same time, however, U.S. evangelical churches began to become more appealing, particularly to the middle classes.

The trend has caused many U.S. evangelical leaders to become carried away and aggressively declare theirs is a “Christian nation” — and always has been.