Name: Church of Scientology of Adelaide

Denomination/religion: Church of Scientology (though not recognised as a religion in Germany)

Location: 225 Pulteney Street, Adelaide

Service time: 1pm Wednesday

Pseudonym for security purposes: Essential

The best thing: The lovely guy with an eye-patch who was happy to answer all of our questions

The worst thing: Feeling interrogated

Overall rating: ✞

Recently I’ve been feeling that Scientology was calling out to me, desiring for me to investigate it: Every time I read ‘Elrond’ in Lord of the Rings, all I thought was L. Ron Hubbard. When reading Old Mother Hubbard to my niece, I wondered if this anthropomorphic-dog owner was related to the founder of Scientology… and I’ve always had an inkling that aliens had intervened in earthly events. So when a friend of mine and I wandered passed the Scientology centre, I knew it was fate.

Occurring on a Wednesday afternoon, this service is not scheduled to invite in the usual curious church-going folk. Luckily, we were a keen bunch and, frankly, had nothing better to do at 1pm on a weekday. Some of the congregation members weren’t particularly welcoming either, presumably sceptical of Trapped in the Closet fans and others who came to make a mockery. We were polite and friendly to the six-member congregation, yet repeatedly asked in an incredulous tone why we were there, how we found out about it and what we wanted to know.

A friendly fellow with an eye-patch was our guide to the centre, sharing his experiences and inviting us to ask questions. After he explained the most difficult parts of Scientology – understanding what a metaphor is and grasping the idea that we are all ‘basically good’ – a trainee minister conducted the roughly fifteen minute long service, in which she read aloud articles by the main man, LRH. There was no singing, and the service ended with prayer we read from Scientology cross adorned booklet.

After the service, and a cup of tea, I inquisitively, but knowingly, inquired about the two silver cups perched atop a copy of Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health, and was promptly offered an audit by the trained auditor (Scientology jargon for councillor). She pulled out an anachronistic e-meter (a quasi-lie detector) and explained its function.

The machine worked to reverse what she clumsily described as classical conditioning or, what Scientologists call, ‘the reactive mind’. I held one cup in each hand, which the auditor had ickily warmed under her armpits, prepared for the wonders of the e-meter.

She pinched my arm and described how after I thought about the trauma of being pinched, the needle began to waver, but when I thought about the pinch again and again, the needle moved less! Apparently, my negative thoughts had more mass which caused the needle to jump, but when these thoughts were relived and released, the needle remained idle.* This was of course with our trusty trained auditor adjusting the dials to ensure everything was running smoothly. With the evidence right in front of us, how could we not believe it? My other two friends, who were also audited, were asked more personal questions about the stresses and anxieties in their lives, with equally as positive results! Though auditing was said to be the panacea for all of our woes, I don’t think any of us were feeling particularly clear after the bout of Scientology-flavoured Freudian psychoanalysis we endured.

When asked about Scientology’s stance on truth, the auditor defensively quipped that we must have studied philosophy. One of the core ideas in Scientology is that the truth held by an individual is based on empirical evidence – what’s true for you is what you have observed (thanks e-meter). Unfortunately for us, Xenu the galactic overlord wasn’t mentioned in this discussion, so we couldn’t poke holes in that argument.

After hearing enough balderdash, we decided to head home and mull over one of the most peculiar church experiences we’d had. As we were leaving we were offered a fantastic opportunity to take a course at the Scientology centre, for a small fee of only $55! After politely declining, we left calmly, breathing a huge sigh of relief as we exited and scurried off, constantly checking behind us to ensure we weren’t being followed home.

– Anna K

*note, this is grade A baloney