Do you remember the cult in that we covered in 1996?
We ran several exposés on cults around Japan following a terrorist act carried out by a religious sect the year before. Our magazine brought to light the truth behind a wide array of groups, from emerging religions to devil worshippers, and this cult was one of the ones we discussed.
Here’s a quick review.
Spiritual Space, a fairly new religion, was established in 1991 and differs from typical belief systems in that it has no central figure.
Unlike Buddhism, Shintoism, or Christianity, they do not worship any deities. These women worship the universe itself.
I say women because every devotee of this religion is female.
Women come from all over to gather near the base of a mountain in , out in the middle of nowhere with nothing else around but a dam. Some women essentially live on-site.
They train and engage in meditation and yoga to bring themselves closer to the Truth of the Universe.
One of our sources, however, provided us with some disturbing rumors.
Reports of worshippers taking their own lives. Entire families committing suicide.
For our last piece, one of our editors paid the area a visit hoping to gain insider access for a special report. But the group’s defenses were much tighter than anticipated, and the their PR manager gave our male editor a standard introduction in the reception room without allowing him to set foot inside.
Now, four years later, we decided to try again. Having learned from our previous mistakes, this time we sent a woman to go undercover and get the story.
Concealing her true identity as a reporter, she sneaked in as a lowly devotee to talk with other followers and learn the shocking truth behind this organization. This is her report.
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I arrive at the train station a little past noon. In the car sent to retrieve me, the driver, a Spiritual Space devotee, tells me about the group.
Each member fulfills a clearly defined role, such as driver, publicist, office worker, or management staff.
While a handful of people act as leaders, there is no hierarchy within the group, and everyone addresses one another as equals.
The number of people in the congregation fluctuates between thirty and fifty. All are women, and some even have spouses and children.
We arrive at Spiritual Space, where the sheer size of the facility surprises me.
It feels like a small hotel. There is a lobby, meeting rooms, a large shared bath, a dining hall, and plenty of rooms filled with beds. The facility could house a very large group. In fact, many people seem to live here most days of the year.
In the reception room, a PR woman tells me about the group. I know most of this already, but I listen attentively to show her my potential as a serious initiate.
She explains the cost of joining—that is to say, the group’s revenue stream—and surprisingly they have no rules about how much worshippers must contribute, instead letting each person pay what they can when they can afford to do so. When I ask how they manage to maintain such a large facility without a fixed contribution, she replies that a few very wealthy members keep the place running. It’s worth investigating further, but I doubt she’ll say any more to a newbie like me.
A woman I assume is a leader gives me a tour as she tells me about the facility, then I join some other devotees in a meeting room for yoga.
We do mostly standard poses like cat and moon, but there are some unique ones. For those, we raise our hands in the air. When I ask why, they tell me that lifting your hands toward the sky helps you receive the cosmic energy that will open your chakras.
Next, we meditate. Staying silent in such a large group feels uncomfortable. I just pretend to meditate and get a headache for my trouble. Who knows, maybe my chakras are opening.
The yoga and meditation are called training, but they’re completely voluntary, and we can spend the time outside of our assigned roles as we see fit.
The group feels kind of like a female-only club, except it’s a cult.
I chat with a few other worshippers during my free time to learn more.
They’re all friendly, actively practicing the group’s teaching that a gracious heart guides one to the universe. They start each conversation by thanking the other person. I actually find their friendliness unsettling.
I first speak with a middle-aged woman, probably in her fifties.
When I ask about family, she tells me she has a husband and a teenage son. Curious, I inquire further and discover they all get along quite well and her family supports her spending half the week attending to her religious activities.
Only women can join the group, but men can proselytize, so her husband and son help her go out and recruit new members.
Frankly, I don’t understand the mindset of someone who would preach a religion denied to them, even if a family member was deeply involved.
Their preaching apparently consists of handing out pictures on the street or sticking them up in conspicuous places. They have no scripture, so I wonder if those pictures serve as their recruiting tool. I ask to see one, but the woman says she needs to attend to her cleaning work, so I miss the chance.
The next person I speak with is a young woman in her twenties.
A bright smile on her face, she starts talking before I have the chance to probe her reasons for joining.
“I think I’ll be able to go to a higher place soon.”
She continues, though I’m visibly confused. According to her, it’s an open secret that there are two types of followers: those who can go to a higher place and those who can’t.
I ask what will happen when she goes, and she replies, “I’ll gain the Truth of the Universe.”
When I press for details on what that means, her answer makes little sense. But the strange look in her eyes terrifies me.
I have yet to see any sort of brainwashing in the group’s activities. Their lives seem free and unrestricted. Even so, I have to question why these people have all gathered to worship here.
The last person I talk to is a woman around forty.
She has been a devotee since the group’s founding. She lost her elementary school–aged son the previous year and is training diligently to meet him in this higher place. It dawns on me that this group offers a kind of sanctuary for people with wounded hearts.
She sobs openly, lamenting that even with all her training, she still hasn’t made it to the higher place, and I feel pity for her.
I momentarily forget my mission and encourage her to continue training while cautioning her against doing anything rash in order to see her son again.
Before I know it, it’s time for dinner.
Those living off-site all go home, and those who stay file into the dining hall to eat.
There, everyone talks and enjoys their meal.
I can’t eat much, though. Everything is tasteless.
The food from the kitchen looks no different than any other meal, but it lacks any flavor whatsoever. Is that because it’s not seasoned well enough? No one else seems to mind, but I leave most of my plate untouched.
After dinner, the PR woman calls me into the reception room again and asks if I’d like to join.
Naturally, I say yes, hoping to gain more information for this story.
With a satisfied look, she thanks me, then she informs me I can observe a ritual accessible only to followers.
She leads me to a different area of the building.
We pass through two sturdy-looking double doors to find more than ten worshippers in a dimly lit room.
A peculiar scene presents itself.
In the center of the room, a wooden platform supports a large stone decorated with a sacred rope.
On each side of the square platform, a hunched worshipper devoutly writes something on a paper placed on the floor.
I assume this is the picture that woman in her fifties mentioned. A quick glance over one woman’s shoulder reveals an image with the character 女written on it.
The other devotees form a circle around these bowed worshippers as they draw, repeating eerie, bizarre movements.
They jump, hands raised high.
Everyone keeps repeating some gibberish.
The following is a transcript of a secret recording I made.
“Ruki emashiramu dojie uzume”
“Meshi taga haha aoemashiraoizu memi ochikudo”
“Zogi tsumashirafuie hamo sumo ooe”
“Airuzu mesomashiraudzu jiemifu oporeru tozue”
“Doiishimashirame koyoi asu pikuso”
“Suei mikururu ruemashiraoki munashi”
“Aoie fuzumodzui seromashirao aburuiso”
“Chimemi fuzuroite tottusumo iteto bunaru mashira ike komiteru”
“Fueo iepushi mashira”
“Rimashiratsu fuitoto mina oi oerutsu”
“Mashira shikoe ributsui tote mizu”
For a while, I stand frozen, observing the ritual.
I ask the calmly smiling PR woman at my side to escort me out of the room, then ask her what it was all about.
She informs me that the women were training to reach a higher place and to guide everyone from above.
Because Spiritual Space has no central person or object of worship, the stone in the center of the room acts as nothing more than a medium to reach a higher place.
They draw pictures next to this stone, which harnesses the universe’s power, then use those pictures to save those who find them.
The devotees engaged in that strange dance around the stone, jumping with their arms raised, simply say whatever comes to mind in order to channel power through the stone.
Even assuming that is all true, the sacred rope on the stone clearly comes from Shintoism. I press her for more details, but she only repeats that the stone is special.
Hearing her story makes me feel woozy. Not figuratively, but literally woozy.
I let her know I don’t feel well, but she expresses no concern.
Sensing an imminent danger to myself, I say I need to use the restroom, then call my editor from a private stall.
I lose consciousness just as I hear the siren of the ambulance my editor called for me.
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Our reporter was admitted to a nearby hospital but thankfully suffered no major complications and returned home safely. She fell ill again after submitting her report, however, and is currently still hospitalized.
We contacted the group, suspecting that some drug might have been slipped into her food. But the phone number no longer worked, and the group’s website had disappeared.
We sent a writer living in Kansai out to the facility, but the buildings were empty, and they could not find the large stone mentioned in the report.
Japan is still home to scores of dangerous, hidden cults.
Each approaches regular people with a smile, but their true motives are to brainwash or steal. We here will never stop working to expose the dark side of these cults, to ensure the tragedy of five years ago is never repeated.