International Journal of Cultic Studies ■ Vol. 3, 2012 77
church used to believe. Concurrently, the sixties
promoted another revolution that some of my
hipper friends summarized as We can change the
world all you need is love. Connolly and the
hippie generation were into the cults of peace,
love, and tie-dye and Who am I really anyway?
Many, far too many enhanced the inner quest, as
Connolly says, “with various herbal sacraments”
thrown in while searching for “clues” to the
secrets of life.
David Berg and his fanatical followers of a hip
Jesus tapped into this veritable social maelstrom,
attracting-recruiting thousands of yearning-for-
answers seekers like Connolly. Berg’s cult
adapted the tried and effective born-again
formula called “the sinner’s prayer” (coupling it
with the old King James Bible, of course) to the
hippie spirit of free love, and, voilà, Jesus
became the ultimate, sexy revolutionary! Who
in his righteous hippie mind could resist?
Connolly is careful not to emphasize the
sensational sexual aspect of his journey into
CoG leadership—too much voyeuristic, anticult
ink has been spilled on this lurid topic already.
He describes a devotional route, immersing
himself in Bible study and missionary work,
traveling internationally, and following Berg’s
orders. He did, however, fulfill “family”
obligations by marrying a member and
producing as many kids with her as they could—
he includes a picture of him and his wife with 17
children, many of whom I suspect were
grandchildren. He mentions in a later chapter
that he took on a second wife and had children
with her in accord with CoG polygamous
doctrine—all biblically blessed, mind you, but
they later separated. Also in a later chapter,
Connolly directly if gingerly treats the touchy
mating activity—that of Flirty Fishing, a
practice promoted by Berg to allow women in
the cult, married or not, to court and have sex
with non-CoG men for purposes of both
recruitment and donations.
Berg had a powerful charismatic appeal, but
only if you believed in him as a prophet. His
primary means of prophecy came through a
barrage of some 3,000 “Mo Letters” (he was
Moses David) that served as directives to leaders
and members. These missives soon became
gospel for The Family, so much so that
Connolly recalls one of Berg’s personal aids
saying after 1978, “I would have been a great
Jonestowner. If Mo says, ‘Drink the Kool-Aid,’
I drink the Kool-Aid!”
With 20 years of recovery behind him, Connolly
writes of his cult experience with a witty sense
of humor and mature humility. For example, in
chapter 6 (“Hotel California”), the author has a
crisis when he learns that a close friend in the
group, who had been ranked third in position
behind the “king and queen” (Mo and partner
Maria), has been kicked out. Connolly had to
fly from India to France for a leadership meeting
as a result. Berg at the time was hiding in
France to avoid potential prosecution—in his
narcissistic view, persecution. Connolly writes,
As it turned out, I was to share a by-the-
week apartment with Mo’s daughter
Faithy [sic] and Peruvian Juan, her mate
at the time. They were just returning
from a visit with Colonel Mu’ammar
Gaddafi in Libya. (Mo had attempted to
flatter his way into Gaddafi’s good
graces, with some temporary success.
He seemed to have felt a certain
maverick camaraderie with the colonel,
and related to his bombastic, anti-
Western approach to politics. It has a
sort of Alice in Wonderland meets
Salvador Dali feel to it, doesn’t it?) (p.
50)
The value of this book beyond a good insider’s
view of Berg’s cult is in how Connolly treats his
awakening to just how delusional his entire
religious experience had become. He offers
good descriptions about his effort to unravel the
mess, with insights from various scholars and
therapists. The latter chapters serve as a manual
for recovery, especially for ex-members of
aberrant Bible cults. Connolly, his wife, and
children by that wife somehow emerged from
the cult relatively intact. His family’s
adjustment was not without serious problems or
tragedy. But I found it remarkable that his
family survived as well as it did—testament to
the day-to-day goodness in their core human
spirit, an identity Connolly and his wife never
church used to believe. Concurrently, the sixties
promoted another revolution that some of my
hipper friends summarized as We can change the
world all you need is love. Connolly and the
hippie generation were into the cults of peace,
love, and tie-dye and Who am I really anyway?
Many, far too many enhanced the inner quest, as
Connolly says, “with various herbal sacraments”
thrown in while searching for “clues” to the
secrets of life.
David Berg and his fanatical followers of a hip
Jesus tapped into this veritable social maelstrom,
attracting-recruiting thousands of yearning-for-
answers seekers like Connolly. Berg’s cult
adapted the tried and effective born-again
formula called “the sinner’s prayer” (coupling it
with the old King James Bible, of course) to the
hippie spirit of free love, and, voilà, Jesus
became the ultimate, sexy revolutionary! Who
in his righteous hippie mind could resist?
Connolly is careful not to emphasize the
sensational sexual aspect of his journey into
CoG leadership—too much voyeuristic, anticult
ink has been spilled on this lurid topic already.
He describes a devotional route, immersing
himself in Bible study and missionary work,
traveling internationally, and following Berg’s
orders. He did, however, fulfill “family”
obligations by marrying a member and
producing as many kids with her as they could—
he includes a picture of him and his wife with 17
children, many of whom I suspect were
grandchildren. He mentions in a later chapter
that he took on a second wife and had children
with her in accord with CoG polygamous
doctrine—all biblically blessed, mind you, but
they later separated. Also in a later chapter,
Connolly directly if gingerly treats the touchy
mating activity—that of Flirty Fishing, a
practice promoted by Berg to allow women in
the cult, married or not, to court and have sex
with non-CoG men for purposes of both
recruitment and donations.
Berg had a powerful charismatic appeal, but
only if you believed in him as a prophet. His
primary means of prophecy came through a
barrage of some 3,000 “Mo Letters” (he was
Moses David) that served as directives to leaders
and members. These missives soon became
gospel for The Family, so much so that
Connolly recalls one of Berg’s personal aids
saying after 1978, “I would have been a great
Jonestowner. If Mo says, ‘Drink the Kool-Aid,’
I drink the Kool-Aid!”
With 20 years of recovery behind him, Connolly
writes of his cult experience with a witty sense
of humor and mature humility. For example, in
chapter 6 (“Hotel California”), the author has a
crisis when he learns that a close friend in the
group, who had been ranked third in position
behind the “king and queen” (Mo and partner
Maria), has been kicked out. Connolly had to
fly from India to France for a leadership meeting
as a result. Berg at the time was hiding in
France to avoid potential prosecution—in his
narcissistic view, persecution. Connolly writes,
As it turned out, I was to share a by-the-
week apartment with Mo’s daughter
Faithy [sic] and Peruvian Juan, her mate
at the time. They were just returning
from a visit with Colonel Mu’ammar
Gaddafi in Libya. (Mo had attempted to
flatter his way into Gaddafi’s good
graces, with some temporary success.
He seemed to have felt a certain
maverick camaraderie with the colonel,
and related to his bombastic, anti-
Western approach to politics. It has a
sort of Alice in Wonderland meets
Salvador Dali feel to it, doesn’t it?) (p.
50)
The value of this book beyond a good insider’s
view of Berg’s cult is in how Connolly treats his
awakening to just how delusional his entire
religious experience had become. He offers
good descriptions about his effort to unravel the
mess, with insights from various scholars and
therapists. The latter chapters serve as a manual
for recovery, especially for ex-members of
aberrant Bible cults. Connolly, his wife, and
children by that wife somehow emerged from
the cult relatively intact. His family’s
adjustment was not without serious problems or
tragedy. But I found it remarkable that his
family survived as well as it did—testament to
the day-to-day goodness in their core human
spirit, an identity Connolly and his wife never
