A few years ago, I vowed to never buy a single cup of coffee - not one pastry or slice of cake - from either of Starbucks or Gloria Jean's. Yes, I have a background as a bohemian wanker, and yes, I spent my early adulthood sipping latte, as I discussed everything from the pitfalls of cognitive behavioural theory, to the postmodernity of the latest Madonna video, in the many cafes that once lined the city streets. Once. Along came Starbucks and, soon after, Miss Jean (or, perhaps, being a good Christian, she's Mrs Jean), and that was pretty much the end of the line for one of culture's most valued institutions, The Cafe. It was in The Cafe, that the intellectual banter of Sartre and Simone would form the spine of existentialism; where Dylan discussed his political outrage that would pen so many of those famous landmarks of angry folk; and where David Lynch, on the back of a napkin, drew an imaginary map of a little town called Twin Peaks. I could say, "God bless The Cafe", but the irony would be that this is now part of the problem of where this social institution has arrived. Would you like some Jesus in your Mocachino?

Aside from these qualms, such as my initial resistance to what I saw as attacking an important fiber of cultural creative and intellectual evolution with yet more homogeneity, and even the obvious corporate destruction of small businesses run by everyday Australians (as opposed to American financial giants), it's no secret that, in recent years, the scrutiny of Gloria Jean's (now having completely overtaken the power of Starbucks) is centered around the fact that it is partly owned by Hillsong, the single most successful contemporary arm of Australian Christianity (and one of the most successful businesses in Australia). I'm hazarding a guess that most of us, here, know this, right? Inevitably, every dollar you put in a Gloria Jeans cash register, filters down to the megachurches of Sydney's Hills district and their now growing stronghold over the rest of the sunburnt country's spiritual inclinations and susceptibilities. That's hardly a news flash; and, if you didn't know... well... now you do. The founders of Gloria Jean's, Mr Irvine and Nabi Saleh, are also a fundamental part of the board of Hillsong, and have decided to use their success to the interest of the church's growth. It appears to be working.

There's an irony, when discussing the problem of modern Evangelism and Christianity, that we have seen time and time again, such as the one we noted in following the documentary, Jesus Camp, whereby subjectivity makes a strange, impossible divide. Jesus Camp was a "shocking documentary that exposed the awful truth of evangelist indoctrination of children", etc, etc; however, the very woman it was about - a villainesse to many viewers - alongside her church and followers, actually thought the film was a publicity coup that could be made useful for recruitment purposes. It's all in the eye of the beholder, of course - none of it was that shocking for most Evangelists (and even those from the more classic strands of Christianity), who did, after all, agree with the teachings of Pastor Becky Fisher, and thought the indoctrination of children into God's righteous plan was rather fab. That's what religions do, after all: they cultivate ideology. You can't "shockingly reveal" what they are eager to spread the word of, themselves; and this poses a problem for so many who can't comprehend how many of these beliefs are able to exist and direct millions of people through their daily lives. Whether Gloria Jean's was initially "hiding" the source of its financial origins or not, once it came out, they were more than happy to nurture the association, because, quite frankly, they're Evangelists, and that's just what they do. If they find another outreach, they're happy to have a new microphone - know what I'm saying? They're driven by the conquest - it's what all Christianity comes from, after all; it's a conquering kind of religion (coincidentally, just like Islam, it should be noted).

And so, Gloria Jean's, instead of shying away and going into any kind of PR damage control mode, simply rode the attention, and stepped the advertising up a notch. Furthermore, it created a valuable sense of identity within its own community, and... let's just be real, here... made even more money, as modern churches cleverly began to intertwine the religious mindset with that of the loyal consumer. Find me an Evangelist who doesn't make an effort to buy their coffee from the clan. And, alongside them, most people, outside the religion, didn't care. Many noted a displeasure, sure; but it was hardly earth-shattering, and hey, at the end of the day, it's about getting that famous hit of coffee and cake. Ideological integrity on one side; fashionable cake and coffee, on the other. What do you think the modern consumer is going to choose, at the end of the day? It's the fucking coffee, and you and I both know it. So, it does nothing to harm the business brought in by the oblivious mainstream who have nothing to do with the religion, but makes those within the flock consume the product even more. Kaching. Kaching. Kaching. The coffee, it's just so... good. My popular culture tells me to buy it, and I can't stop myself.

For the most part, I'm glad to say that I, personally, actually have. But I'll admit, there's been a couple of times where I've been in a hurry, looked around for where I can get my hourly hit of caffeine from, saw the Gloria Jean's sign, noted no other options, cringed, and then.. well... gone in there, anyway, sliding my wallet out of my pocket. I bet many of you fellow Gloria Jean's boycotters have done the same thing. Even the sturdiest men and women of principle, in this modern world of ours, will sometimes be swayed by the impulses so much of our environment tries so hard to create in us. Personally, my moments of weakness have finally dwindled down, because my intention has been so consistently reminded, by a string of occurrences and experiences that increasingly disturb me (in regards to that church) it has just now become such a strong, important sense of awareness; the association between the chain and the church is now too vivid for my consumer impulses to conveniently forget, in the heat of the purchase. I really can't stomach the thought of putting money in their pockets, and later, I'll discuss how this definitive moment finally came for me. I hope many of you will take the time to consider whether you should find a similar level of abstinence.

My first real experience of Gloria Jean's , and its connection to Hillsong, came last year, when, upon returning to Sydney, I stayed in a friend's garage in (of all places!) the Hills District. For those outside of Sydney, this is God's country, where the Hillsong church have, quite literally, populated an entire region of Sydney. You think it's an exaggeration, but go live there for a while and, trust me, you will realise where this Hillsong thing has got to. I'm sure this is partly why I am now so able to abstain from my coffee and cake, so I thought I might talk to you about it, in case you need the extra motivation.

Baulkham Hills, where I was staying, is, essentially (like the entire Hills district), wealthy middle to upper class suburbia. That's pretty much a no-brainer (religion has always favored economically fruitful recruits), and with the emphasis on the traditional family unit (and all that entails), you can probably imagine the scene: picket fences, perfectly groomed gardens, expensive children's playsets in the backyards, big fluffy dogs roaming - that sort of thing. Hillsong has, admittedly, swung the concept away from the more Catholic approach, to manifest a decidedly corporate ideology into the mindset (go figure); and, in this way, Hillsong is the perfect modern church, because it links the idea of prosperity to being sought after for its own sake. In more traditional forms of Christianity, the working life is linked more to the concept of the male figure sustaining the all mighty family unit through the requirement of bringing home the bacon, etc; but this is not the same in Hillsong, where economic prosperity is flaunted as a kind of signifier of the divine (Brian Houston's first book was titled, "You Need More Money"). Technically speaking, it's called "Prosperity Theology" - the idea that God encourages material possessions and wealth as a reward for his chidren's devotion - and it's recently come to the forefront by being marketed so successfully by - surprise, surprise - the business of Evangelism. Hillsong knows all about prosperity, after all - last year, it made a profit of 50 million dollars (and here's the best part - it's all tax free, because, technically speaking, it's a religion and not a business!). You want to be rich? You better get yourself some God.

And so, the Hills district screams money, at every turn, and the church has been smart enough to associate itself with the concept of the "good life". One of the problems with christianity, as a whole, is its unmistakable arrogance that cannot help but be a component of a system that has always sold itself to followers on the basis of aspiring exclusivity. It's roots, for the most part, are found in the fundamental concept of pre-destination, in the idea that those who conform to the christian lifestyle will, for their devotion, be rewarded with a variety of luxuries and advantages that non-christians (the designated "other") will not (such as going to heaven, while the "others" burn in hell). It's a powerful sell, and one, ironically, that forms the basis of modern advertising (the spine of aspirational marketing). Religion was actually the forerunner for advertising and marketing; it is modern civilisation's original propaganda, designed to sell itself to an entire society, so that it could then mask a brutal political conquest (not a great deal has changed, perhaps).

I saw the Australian leader of Hillsong, Brian Houston, making a special guest appearance on the Joyce Meyer show (he has been heralded a modern superstar by American evangelists, for the incredible success he has had in building evangelism on Australian shores), and they were discussing the fact that they drive luxury cars (Brian has an assortment of them). Both justified their excessive lifestyles on the basis of pre-destined prosperity, having the audacity to use the success of their businesses disguised as spirituality, to basically say, "God has given me this, so that I can bring his word to the people; I have these things because I am chosen by God." Jesus, of course, despised the concept of materialism and consumer aspiration, as well as despising churches operating as businesses (there is a wonderful line in the Deliver Us From Evil doco, where a renegade priest makes the point; "The only time Jesus ever got angry was in a church!"). But in Hillsong, it's all part of the paradise one is privvy to, if only one gives their life to the business of spirituality - a business that has made its leaders very, very rich.

The corporatisation of religion, and the ethos of advertising, is more than apparent in the Hills District. Billboards for the church look out, over the highways: slick, loud and very, very proud. Gone are the cliche pleasant sunrise scenes, pictures of fluffy baby ducks, etc, that we have associated the advertising of religion to. Gone are the blatant images of Christ, and archaic scenes of the Bible. Hillsong know how to appeal to the modern consumer, in a way that is clearly focused not only on the inner circle itself, but to the goal of persuading those outside it. Furthermore, it targets young people, and most of the images on those billboards feature good-looking late-teens to 20-somethings; their hands in the air, beaming smiles across their faces, and wearing the fashionable clothes one can expect to dress in, when one receives the prosperity of God. It's constructed no differently than any other marketing campaign, and if Hillsong has set any kind of forefront in the modern survival and revival of religion, it's that it is the first church who has its own first rate marketing department, and who understands that it's popularity hangs on the dynamic of selling the product (a product that is, after all, paid for, by those who sign up).

Two weeks after I arrived in Baulkham Hills, my friend took me to Norwest, deep into the very heart of Hillsong, where this marketing department gathers in the boardroom to target demographics with carefully constructed campaigns. It was surreal. The epicenter is a giant stretch of land, where the word, "drought", seems not in the christian vocabulary - every blade of grass a vivid green, the hours of manicuring no doubt wasting many of hours of some poor bugger's life (who probably did it for nothing more than the love of God). The roads are kept perfectly smooth, the street signs glisten; in the distance, a man made lake seems just a little too blue. I searched for something - anything - that marred the scene with the slightest imperfection, but found nothing. And all I could think of was the vast amounts of money it must take to achieve such perfection. Welcome to suburban, domestic paradise. Welcome to Hillsong.

In the middle of these fields, surrounded by immaculate gardens bursting with colour and fertility, is the ultimate portrait. Welcome to the Central Nervous System of the monster that is modern religion; side by side, sit the giant Hillsong corporate offices (the Hillsong logo beaming down, from the sky, in neon signage), the mega-arena church (seating thousands) and, but of course, a giant shopping mall. All is owned by Hillsong. Even the shopping mall. I guess, even the people. The ritual, for these people, is obvious: a little prayer, followed by a little shopping. At every moment, every cent inevitably goes back into those towering offices, in the center of a carpark that looked like a BMW showroom in Double Bay, where corporate Christians in suits go about the business of selling Salvation. "Pentacostals understand that their worship is the show, that brings in the punters, who then buy the merchandise," Kate Mannix, of Online Catholics, told the Business Weekly Review. I resisted the experience of the actual service, and opted, instead, for the shopping.

Inside, the perfection continued. "I feel like I'm on the set of a film," chuckled my partner. And he was right. You know that moment, toward the end of a strange dream, where the awareness starts to kick in - that this is actually just a dream - and, before it finally dawns on you (and you're brought back into your bedroom, where you're left remembering something you mistook for reality), there's that weird, mild anxiety, where you can't quite put your finger on it, but you know something's just not right? That's what shopping at Norwest was like, for me. I was waiting for the perfection to suddenly come undone, when one of the Christians' arms would suddenly fall off - perhaps, while reaching for a jar of gourmet pesto - and reveal the wiring of an evil, programmed robot, beneath the latex flesh.  

"Ah," would smile Brian, from his penthouse office, across the carpark, "Look at our happy little robots, consuming in our Utopian corporate paradise."

"Yes, Master," his Marketing Manager would confirm. "And soon, they will take over the world."

Cue five minutes of menacing laughter.

And yes, yes, I know the retort. I know it seems, well, a little fucked up of me, to criticise something on the basis of perfection. Why are happy people evil robots? What's wrong with being happy, after all? What's wrong with shopping? Everybody does it. But you cannot take away the bigger picture of what lies beneath this happiness - even beyond the obvious level of their corporate exploitation (remembering that - for the followers, at least - it still boils down to a social ideology). I dressed accordingly for the experience (I wanted to be undetectable, to achieve the best viewpoint), and everyone was undeniably nice. Segregated communities generally are. With each other. But this is a religion that outwardly aspires to infiltrate government (and we've seen the consequences of that in America), that has, at the core, a judgmental and dangerous attitude to others. That's all part of the exclusivity, of course - to be the greater cannot be separated conceptually from those who are, therefore, the lesser. They're going to heaven to play harps, and we're all damned to eternal fire. They're right - about everything - and we're wrong.

 

This kind of discrimination, in a Christian country like ours, is the poison that all our social problems come from. Along the way, we have lost sight of that; but make no mistake, the things we battle in this society - from sexism, to racial, religious and sexual discrimination - is a Christian phenomenon, a rather logical community ethos of a civilisation that was built on Christian "values". And one of those values - so central to its appeal, unfortunately - is good old Christian righteousness, the black and white idea that they are better than others and, what's worse, must, as part of their duty, enforce their own values over these lessers. "Why can't we all just get along, and allow each other their differences?" asks many an idealistic lefty. But that's a stupid question, because if you understood the foundations of this society, you'd understand how completely antithetical that concept is to the Christian mindset at the heart of this society. They all share the basic doctrines of what then turns into oppression and injustice, and they are the majority of this country. The argument put forward, when it's convenient for them to point the finger at each other - the difference between the groups, or sects, or whatever you want to call them - is largely a redundant, silly argument. Catholic, Lutheran, Evangelist, Seventh Day, bla, bla, bla. Whatever. Evangelism is the most frightening of the mainstream, sure. But, even so, in the end, it's all Christianity. The rituals may be different, from one to the next, but the beliefs are pretty much the same, and they ideologically bind this world we live in. It's a narrow-minded, compassionless world, because, far from the delusions in the Christian slogans, Christianity is a narrow-minded, compassionless (and, furthermore, aggressive) religion. If there's any social group Jesus would protest against, it would be those who formed political (and now, corporate) institutions in his name. Christ was usurped by those who actually live and breathe everything he was against. He wouldn't be caught dead, sipping latte, in a fast food franchise.

Recently, I had a letter sent in, posing the idea we hear, all the time: that even if religion is simply the opiate of the masses who find a happier psychological space from what is effectively deceiving them, perhaps it's for the best. They're happier, believing the lies, aren't they? And that's all very well; my concern isn't their happiness, but the happiness of others who pay for their beliefs and delusions. "Beautiful day, isn't it?!" the Christians beamed at us, as our shopping trolleys passed. I'm sure most days are, for them. The expressions of ecstasy seem bizarrely constant, the opium of the lifestyle quite apparent. And that's great, maybe. For them.

Ask any one of those blissful Hillsongers, in their shopping paradise, about their thoughts on a range of social topics. See how quickly their contentment and serenity turns into something quite different. They smiled at me, in post-service bliss, but if they had stopped and understood anything of the man they were talking to, I would, after all, be assigned to the flames of hell. And it's not just me. Ask them about their opinions on immigration, on how to tackle the drug problem, on the place of other religions in this society. Ask them if they think women are, under the eye of God, equal to men. Ask them what they think of single mothers. Ask them what they think of the young woman who has aborted her baby, conceived in act of rape. Ask them about tax, and what they think should be done, financially, to help the poor. Happy, yes. And, yet, so full of condemnation for the fallen world beyond their middle to upper class consumer paradise.

It is in this consumer paradise, where, as you'd expect, there is the mothership of all Gloria Jean's. It's the first shopfront in Norwest Mall; you simply cannot avoid the aroma of that delicious drug (grown mostly in third world countries, under slave labor conditions), beckoning you in. It was this, that my friend wanted me to behold. Here, in this Gloria Jean's, every weekend, you will see, in full splendor, the connection between this franchise and their God. They leave the doors of the neighbouring megachurch, and converge in Norwest Mall, not so dissimilar to the teenagers who hang in such places in the western suburbs, and they fill every inch of that Gloria Jean's. Guitars in hand, the whole place bursts out in a joyous, Christian unison, as happy believers clap and sing, in collective exaltation, over their creme caramelle muggacinos. God bless modern enterprise.

"I think I wanna go home, now," I said, with a distinct air of terror (there was only so much I could stand, after all). They were going on up to the spirit in the sky. I was getting the fuck out of Norwest Mall.

Eventually, I left the Hills, and settled into the decidedly more appropriate land of Newtown. But Christianity has definitely seeped through Sydney; having been away for a good five years, the contrast, to me, is impossible to ignore. In the Hills district, I saw the extreme end of that - or, really, where that infiltration is coming from. Even the electrician, who came to fix my friend's oven, had, by the time he left, talked of the end of the world, and how good it was to live in a suburb that would, unlike those evil city folk, reap the rewards of eternal luxury, in that great big Gloria Jean's in the sky. Um, just fix the fucking oven, and leave, yeah? I can't say I've experienced the stronghold, to such a degree, outside of this area, but everywhere I go - in what is supposed to be the lefty, liberal minded city of this country - I inevitably end up hearing all about the power of God, mostly from the mouths of Hillsong members. God, they believe, is everywhere. In today's Sydney, that certainly seems to be the case.

 

The other problem is that I've also noticed a distinct increase in racism, homophobia, classism and discriminations of all unpleasant forms. I have to wonder of the correlation. Even in my job, I had to tread carefully, in case I upset the Hillsong members I worked with. I've never repressed myself for anyone, and, in Sydney, it would never have occurred to me that I'd have to - but, nonetheless, here I was, hoping the Christians didn't single me out as a heathen they couldn't work beside. I began to feel the mild anxiety of God's judgmental eyes scouring my persona for the imperfections. "God is love," they tell you. But for many, the love is a little lost in the wrath. The love of Christianity is, by their own rules, conditional. That's the point of it, as a power construct that works on the foundation of collective conformity. They're unbelievably content looking; but, again, that smile can fade, rather quickly, and be replaced by something cruel and aggressive. I've seen it, many times, and was grateful when the Hillsongers I worked with, on the whole, decided I was okay. Of course, if they were to know a little more about the person they were working with, that could have easily swung.

The thing is, I had a big old soft spot for one of them: a young asian woman who made no hiding of the fact that she was going to heaven with the rest of her Hillsong congregation. She was lovely. I came to know her as somewhat sadder than she generally tried to present herself as (her Hillsong smile beaming, constantly, as was expected of her), and I did forgive her religious affiliation, because I understood that it filled the heart of someone who was actually a very bright, thoughtful woman. She knew I was gay, too. I suppose, however, she didn't realise (and I certainly never let on) my thoughts on Christianity. She did let me know that she didn't mind that I was gay (although, I know she did see it as a flaw, and there were a couple of comments that she didn't realise were actually rather condescending). But there was never that moment, in reverse, where I smiled, softly, and said, "I want you to know that I don't mind that you're a Pentacostal." And the truth of the matter, here, is that no doubt that would have been poorly received, and that, after all, says so very much. I was still the lesser, at the end of the day.

And she was, if we're to be blunt, a hypocrite. How do you be tolerant of homosexuality, and then worship at a church who holds, as one of its core beliefs, the notion that homosexuals are sick slaves of Satan who will all burn in hell? How do you belong to a church that actively supports reparative therapy to "cleanse" this sin from the soiled bodies of Hillsong's children? I'm sorry, but how does that work? I guess you could argue that it works in the same way that I talked to her, even though I detest her religion. But I don't really care about someone having a religion I don't believe in, as such. I just want her religion to leave me, and all the other countless situations and people it victimises, alone. Her religion condemns me. To Hillsong, I am a worthless, sick human being, who should have less human rights than others, and who shouldn't be let anywhere near children. How does that gel with, "I want you to know that you're fine by me"?

I'll tell you why. It's because there are hundreds of people, out there, who have fallen into the hands of something they think will give them what they are searching for. There are people who - like most, truth be told -  need to belong, and who, in that pain that lives in most of us - that one that just can't believe how seemingly unpleasant, difficult and empty this whole being alive thing generally is - can't help but look for something, anything, that will offer them the purpose of their consciousness, and who are rendered, by this world, unable to find the space they're looking for, on their own. They're brainwashed to various degrees of success; but, underneath, there are some who never really connect with the indoctrination. They want their cake, perhaps, and they want to eat it, too, sure - you could view it, that way. But I find it interesting - somewhat affirming, I suppose - that sometimes, the true self will never truly be extinguished by the imposition of the external. My work colleague didn't really believe everything her church was telling her - she'd never admit that, of course, but it was true. I think that's kinda cool.

But, to anyone from Hillsong, reading this, I still must be totally honest. Cool as it might be, that you may have that part of you who knows that some of the things you're told are wrong (the kind of people from Hillsong who would take the time to read Aaron Darc, perhaps?), seriously, you need to stop and consider the reality of that thing you belong to. It's not just a bunch of beliefs you may actually be a better person than believing in - it's a sociopolitical force, and those ideologies have consequences. I'm glad that you may not adhere to some of those Christian discriminations, but you are, effectively, perpetuating them. Either you believe in The Word, or you don't. And, if you don't, you need to really understand what you're subscription symbolises, and what it actively means, socially. Get some guts, in other words. I do mean that in the kindest possible way, I really do; but it's true, and mincing words is hardly going to break through to you, so I have to say it like it is. Kudos to you, for not being one of the herd (because most do sincerely adhere, after all - I'm talking about a very, very small percentage, here), but it's time you stepped up to that, and moved beyond conveniently timed sentiment. Did my colleague tell her congregation that she thought homosexuals weren't bad people, and that she often enjoyed the company of one whom she worked with? Unlikely. Would you stand up, in the sermon, and say that you really didn't believe women who are the victims of rape should be made to feel such shame, just because they chose to have the pregnancies aborted? I doubt it. If you're reading this, I really think it's time you decided what side of the line you're really on. You are, after all, by your church's rules, a "bad" christian. Doesn't that mean something to you? How can it not?

I ask this question, of course, to all subscribers to all branches of Christianity. However, to bring it back to Hillsong, let's turn our attention, then, to many basic, somewhat logical, reasons to question the divinity of Houston's megachurch meets megabusiness, that leave the more subjective area of social philosophy and collective morality. Whatever my colleague didn't have the guts to tell me, I never prodded (which I would do to anyone else, mind you) or asked her very much about her spirituality, in return. I had so many questions, but, alas, this was the workplace, where friction is best left alone. I wanted to see if she acknowledged the many scandals about her church, and how she reconciled these things with her complete devotion.

What about the fact that Hillsong effectively stole a government grant that was given (half a million dollars) so that it could assist Indigenous communities, and instead ended up being put straight into the church funds, after it infiltrated an indigenous community and exploited it as an opportunity for fund raising? This isn't speculation - in the end, the government made Hillsong give the money back. So, what does a Hillsonger think this says, then, about their church?

How about the church's clear stance on freedom of expression, after one of its former members, Tanya Levin, wrote her book, "People In Glass Houses: An Insider's Story of a Life Inside and Out Hillsong"? This manuscript was picked up by publisher, Allen & Unwin. Soon enough, threats were made, and, eventually, the company pulled the plug on the deal (and the author's career), frightened by the legal power of the church. When the author went there to discuss the matter with the church leaders, she was phsyically removed from the grounds, by force. "There is no debate within Hillsong," says Levin. "That's fundamentalism. It's not open to free thought and question, not at all."

How about the fact that Hillsong was started by a gay child-molester? Yes, that's right, the church's origins began not by the hands of Brian Houston, but by his father, William Houston. Houston was, originally, an officer for the Salvation Army, but eventually founded the Sydney Christian Life Center (part of the Assemblies Of God faith, which he had been a minister for, in New Zealand). He would raise his son, Brian, to follow in his footsteps; Brian eventually forming his own branch of his father's church, in no other than Baulkham Hills. Turns out that, the whole time, William was actually a closet homosexual pedophile - something he confessed to, in 2000, after being accused by a boy he had "tended to", as a minister of Assemblies Of God, in New Zealand. After the scandal, Brian was forced to expel his father from the church. He took control of his father's Waterloo congregation, and decided it was the perfect time to merge and rebrand - for a "rebirth", of sorts, of the church his pedophile father had built. He even gave it a new name... Hillsong.

"I don't believe the church would be where it is today, if it weren't for his life and his ministry," his son would confess, at his father's funeral, four years later (2004). "He was a man who perhaps made some big mistakes a long time ago. But everyone here knows that he was a man who stood for what he believed in." He went on to declare his father the greatest Evangelical preacher the world had ever known. "He was in a class of his own," he sighed. We can only hope.

And now, there's the new scandal. Let me just say, it's up there with the William Houston shocker.

Last year, I broke my own commandment, "Thou shalt not buy latte from Gloria Jean's", twice. The first time, ironically, was because I was with a party of work colleagues, on the way back from a business meeting, and I knew that to answer the question, "Aaron, want to stop off at Gloria Jean's?" would potentially lead to political disaster, if I'd have answered with, "No, thanks, I refuse to put money into the pockets of those bastard Christians." I opted for the latte.

The second time was - I'll confess my sin - due to nothing more than my own impatience and laziness. I'd been shopping at Broadway Mall, and had left my partner (who doesn't share my love of Freedom Furniture), to rest, while I spent more time than he could stomach, scouring the latest homeware. He looked for a seat, and what just happened to be next door to Freedom Furniture? Mrs Jean's. "I won't buy anything," he assured himself, "I'll just use their couch."

Upon returning, I found that to spend ten minutes on that lounge, drowning in the aromas of their precious, delicious drug, had done exactly as it was meant to do, and he now wanted a coffee. So did I - It's tiring, searching for the perfect homeware. "But, not here," I cringed.

He agreed. "Well, where's the other coffee, here?"

"The food court," I responded. "It's... um... " Oh, dear. "It's on the next floor up."

The problem, sadly, was that this involved walking all the way to the escalator, enduring that deathly boring escalator journey (it must last all of thirty seconds), followed by walking all the way to the first cafe, standing in line, and then waiting for some girl to get around to making your coffee. Then, you had to find a seat in the overcrowded food court, drink the coffee, and do the whole thing in reverse.

"I don't know if I can be bothered, doing that," I sighed.

"Same," he said. "Fuck it, let's just get one, here."

Bless me, Father, for then, I sinned. I knew it, too. I overcompensated, by sneering at the smiling, young Christian girl who took my order, and by saying (to myself... ahem), with great volume; "I can't believe I'm putting money into these bastard's pockets."

But, Mr Darc, you did. I did. I'd get down on my knees, and do a thousand Hail Marys, if I thought it would erase the shame. But... well... it wouldn't.

It was standing there, my face the snarl of a weak consumer, that I noticed the latest Gloria Jean's promotion. Hanging from the ceiling were cardboard advertisements; giant cups of coffee, with a pink butterfly flapping across the latte. Gloria Jean's had struck some kind of co-branding deal, seemingly disguised as charity work, with something called Mercy Ministries. I don't mind a dollar of someone's Big Mac going to cancer research (although, luckily, I hate Mc Donald's food, with such passion, this is one commandment of my consuming I never break), but I was stunned to see Gloria Jean's blatantly funding its religion, put forward as some kind of good deed. The campaign was called - wait for it - "Cappuccino For A Cause". Vomit.

"Mercy Ministries?" I asked the silly, young girl at the coffee machine; "That's religious, right?"

She said nothing.

"Huh?" I pushed her. "This is Hillsong, right? You're advertising, on the basis that people should feel more motivated by their conscience, to buy more of your product, so that they can effectively fund Hillsong. That's what this is, yes?"

And do you know what the little bitch did? She blatantly ignored me, sighed with great disapproval, and then turned to the other bitch that was working, there, and said, "Seems to be the day for them."

The other bitch laughed, and noted; "It's weird; it's like they all know to come here, on Sundays."

I looked down at my wallet, and realised it was too late. There was a five dollar note in that wallet that was no longer there. It sat in the till of Gloria Fucking Jean's, where they're raised to think it's quite acceptable to completely ignore their customers, and talk about the perils of enduring so many homosexuals, on (of all days!) the Sabbeth, as if the person they're degrading isn't standing right in front of them. I wanted that five dollars back. But it was too late. Sloth is a sin, and it appears I had payed for mine. Literally.

I would drink my latte - all the while, loudly remarking, "This latte is shit" - and never set foot in another Gloria Jean's, ever again. Yes, I'm saying that, right here, right now - that's it for me. I've never again succumbed to the impulse. Today's news only serves to strengthen my resilliance. I shalt not enter a Gloria Jean's. Really. I shalt not.

I never did find out what, exactly, Mercy Ministries was, until today. Finally, the question that little bitch wouldn't answer was splashed across the front page of The Sydney Morning Herald. Chances are, some of your money went to this organisation, whether you realised it, or not. And do you know what you were funding?

Mercy Ministries is basically the evangelist version of a psychiatric rehabilitation centre. It targets Hillsong families, and offers a solution to a range of "problems". Some of these are serious medical and psychological conditions, like Annorexia and Bi-Polar. The most startling (and this will ring a bell, for those who have followed this site, all along) is the realisation that Gloria Jean's and Hillsong have now brought Christian families the opportunity to have their children undergo GRT. That stands for Gay Reparitive Therapy - a Christian solution to "iron out" young gays and lesbians. It even boasts the guidance of one of the Evangelist world's most famous "ex-gays", Sy Rogers, who travels the world, teaching homosexual Christians how to cast the devil out and become married, heterosexual Christians (on the official Hillsong website, it promises; "Sy will bless you with his insights into identity and the heart"), and who has a popular youtube series called "Turnaround", which teaches one how evil homosexuality is, and how easily it can be - der - turned around. I had no idea. I actually put my own money into a place that uses the word of God to brutally traumatise poor, young, gay souls, who happen to have the misfortune to grow up in a Hillsong home. That makes me sick. I can't tell you how ill that makes me feel.

But it's not just the gays they're straightening out. It doesn't really matter what you're trip is; at Mercy Ministries, it appears everyone gets the same solution. This appears to be getting locked in an institution (sometimes, for months), where the road to your redemption is paved with bible study, terrifying sermons, endless hours of repenting and prayer, degradation, manipulation, a cruel disciplinary system, and the tirelessly repeated theme that you are a pathetic, worthless creature who has been possessed by the devil. Oh, and here's the best bit. Mercy Ministry's response to that possession? Exorcise it. Gloria Jean's - the most successful mainstream fast-food coffee outlet in the country - has been funding exorcism. Sometimes, truth really is stranger than fiction.

What has led to the expose is a collection of girls who had been chewed up and spat out by the ministry. Broken and traumatised, eventually, one of these girls was placed in proper psychiatric care (what do you think the experience would do to a teenage girl who suffers suicidal tendencies?). This led to a psychologist realising that something very wrong was taking place, and after an ongoing battle with the ministry, managed to post her findings online (in the form of the ministry's own notes - hard proof of what was taking place), in an effort to expose the financially powerful church. This led to other girls coming forward, which has culminated in The Sydney Morning Herald breaking the story. SMH should be credited with giving it the front page of yesterday's edition. Sadly, I've not come across it in any more mainstream papers. Hillsong trying to use Australian Idol to spread the Word and make more dollars, seems to be of more concern to most people, over knowing that in the heart of one of Sydney's wealthiest, booming areas, young, helpless girls - some with gravely serious conditions - have (for many years, now) been psychologically brutalised, in the name of their salvation. Perhaps, we shouldn't be surprised. Then again, it could say much more in the financial and political undercurrents of media such as The Daily Telegraph.

What's more (and, I'd imagine, this is actually the angle that the mainstream would particularly despise) it has been further revealed that whilst in their care, the ministry gets all rights to Centrelink carer's pensions. Yes, never mind that it's the arm of a business that turns 40 million a year, and never mind how much money was donated from all those latte cups from Gloria; this place actually has the audacity to then milk more money (a pitiful amount, in comparison) from the government welfare system (just like it did with its pretense of helping indigenous communities, designed to scam funding schemes).

For the best detailed account of what has gone on, there, I won't bother repeating what's already published - please click here , and read this report by infamous atheist, Richard Dawkins (and thanks, Derek, for linking it, in the thread). I'll list other worthwhile reporting, at the end of this article.

Not only does Gloria Jean's (at this point in time, at least) still have a place on the official Mercy Ministries website (click here ), it still has, to this day, a donation box on (quoting the website) "all Gloria Jean's coffee store counters". I want those of you, reading this, who sip their cappuccinos, or coconut summer paradise latte - or whatever kitschy gimmick is your favourite - to seriously have a good, long think about whether you want to maybe find somewhere else to buy your coffee from. Hell, even Starbucks, if you must (but, I'd rather you not). Anywhere, but from Mrs Jeans. Yes, it's hard, maybe. But don't just walk away from this article, or the linked articles you're about to read (and I hope that you do). Put it in your mind. If there's anything I can offer, it is the association, so that next time you have a momentary lapse, and the impulse is just too strong, or, perhaps, you're simply unconscious in the impulse, try to remember my voice. You can, after all, make me sound like whatever you wish (since none of you have actually heard it). And hear that voice, saying, "(insert name here)? It's Aaron Darc. What the fuck are you doing?!"

Walk down the street, or through the mall (past Sanity Music, where you resist buying the latest Hillsonger put through the Idol promotion machine), and find a good old fashioned, honest to goodness, cafe. Maybe it'll be shit coffee. Maybe it'll be great coffee. But aren't you tired of the consistency of fast food chains, anyway? Can't you just picture yourself, saying, "Well, I went to that cafe over there, yesterday, and the latte was great. But today, I tried this other one, and it was shit"?? Isn't that better - more interesting, let's say - than, "Well today, I had a coconut summer paradise latte from Gloria Jean's. It tasted exactly the same as the one I had, the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that. I went to another Gloria Jean's, yesterday, but it looked exactly the same. I couldn't tell the difference"? C'mon, it is. It feels good to sit in a cafe, where the decor is the product of some guy who worked his ass off to open his own spot and make it look like nothing else in the world. That's a good thing. Get real, yeah? It feels much better than this plastic, mass-produced modernity. And, more to the point, it doesn't fund a dangerous, discriminatory religious cult. It's a win-win, really.

 

It would be nice if this scandal broke the camel's back, but you and I both know that it won't. It will affect them, sure - it may begin to hurt Gloria Jean's sales. But Hillsong aint going anywhere. Not just yet. And, most of all, that's because of the Hillsong dollar. As long as it's so powerful, big business will continue to tap into it and exploit it - whether it's more directly linked, as in the case of Gloria Jean's, or pure commercialism, like Idol. Idol happily protected the suggestion that Hillsong had anything to do with the show, and we were supposed to believe it - even while every ad break threw to a commercial for the church (the only mainstream primetime slot it's ever bothered to purchase). Add to this that, last year, the number one selling album on the ARIA music charts was, for a while, a Hillsong album (grasp the power of their dollar, there, yeah?! They were more popular than "popular culture"). And the company the Hillsong music collection is published by? Sony BMG. Who just "happen" to be the company behind Australian Idol. Quelle coincidence. Sony BMG, of course, cares nothing for their religion. It likes their money, and it knows there's a lot of it going around.

 

In marketing terms, the Hillsong demographic possess, through the nature of their community, a fierce bias and loyalty that, when turned into consumer spending, makes those involved an enticing amount of cold, hard cash. Viva la prosperity! And Brian Houston knows this, all too well. It ain't leaving our popular culture, just because a few girls have been mentally abused and exorcised, heavens no. Not while it's making everyone so God damned rich. 

 

Feel like a coffee? 

 

HILLSONG'S MENTAL ILLNESS LINK IS NO SURPRISE TO ME (Live News)