PATH TO LIGHT: Ron Theriault
When I was quite young there was a a TV series called Rawhide that my dad would watch. The song in the opening credits contained the following lines regarding a cattle roundup: “Don’t try to understand ’em, just rope, throw, and brand ’em.” At the time I remember thinking to myself: Why would anybody not want to understand anything? I suppose that this realization set me on a nearly lifelong predisposition against Westerns and toward science, which I saw as being motivated by a quest to know about things. These predispositions have since softened, but the underlying desire to understand has remained.
I was raised Catholic and attended a Catholic school through 8th grade. At the time of First Communion we were taught the symbolism of transubstantiation during mass, whereby the bread and wine were transformed into the body and blood of Christ. It was not described as a symbolic act, however, but an actual transformation. I was not the only one then who privately questioned the reality of this, or even the necessity of eating flesh and blood, but being young and caught up in so many other concerns and events, this issue was simply set aside. I did not seriously take it up again until I left home for college, and church was no longer an institution I was taken to but a place I would have to go to on my own.
Transubstantiation was not the only issue I had with Catholic theology. There was also the explanation of the crucifixion of Jesus. A divine man had to be sacrificed to God to atone for human sins, but by whose rules was this necessary? Would it not have to be a superior entity to God Himself? Despite the comfortable nature of the Catholic culture and the sometimes beautiful liturgy, I became a true agnostic during my college years. The illogicality at the core of orthodox Christianity was simply too much for me to get comfortable with.
Soon after graduating from college I became interested in the Rosicrucians and started with the series of lesson monographs that they offer. They have a conception of God that is more universal and culturally neutral than orthodox Christianity’s, or any other orthodox, established church for that matter. I appreciated that a lot; however, their lesson monographs almost always raised more questions than they answered. One typical example is where a lesson noted that throughout the world there are spots in the wilderness where nothing grows. I have never seen such a place, and all the monograph provided by way of explanation was the question, “Why do you think that is?”
Later I investigated Scientology. They had a building in Boston, where I was living at the time, and I went in about once a week for lessons. There were directed readings of the founder L.Ron Hubbard’s writings and role-playing games of various types. On the whole this was pretty thin spiritual gruel compared to my previous experiences. Every session ended with a “clearing,” which consisted of holding a tin can in each hand and having a brief questioning by a higher up. The cans were connected with a wire to a device of some sort. Each clearing seemed to end after I said something with a degree of conviction. I didn’t stay with this very long: It was expensive and didn’t seem to be getting me to where I wanted to go.
A while after I dropped Scientology, I saw a small ad for the International Community of Christ in a magazine called Saturday Review, which I subscribed to at the time. What caught my eye and caused me to respond was the Solar Cross at the top of the ad. I was pleased and intrigued to find out, when the introductory materials arrived, that central to the teachings were techniques to make use of sunlight on a spiritual level. This was and is a path with which I have no reservations. I was also heartened by the prospect of universal instruction, without filtering through anyone else’s perspective.
By Ron Theriault
January 2014
(Community member since October 1975)













