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| My last day with the Twelve Tribes, I help out at the deli until my bus arrives. |
Please note this is the third and final post in a segment about my stay at Mount Sentinel. Read the first post here.
Sunday morning, there is hugging, lots of yerba maté, dancing, and singing again. Then everyone sits down in the circle again as people share their new reflections.
Before it begins, however, people announce that Tasia is re-enterring the gathering this morning.
"Remember Tasia?" one of the men teases, "married Jacob last year? Gave birth 80 days ago?" Over the course of the weekend, I realize that this man frequently teases good-naturedly.
Tasia, carrying her baby, enters the room in her familiar, quiet demeanor and takes the open seat beside her beaming husband.
As welcoming comments make their way around the room, Elianah leans in close again and quietly explains to me, "a woman must abstain from prayer meetings for 80 days after giving birth. This is Tasia's first day back."
Once everyone is seated quietly, the reflections begin. One of the men, the one who teased about forgetting who Tasia was, talks about how grateful he is that the community is so welcoming.
Before it begins, however, people announce that Tasia is re-enterring the gathering this morning.
"Remember Tasia?" one of the men teases, "married Jacob last year? Gave birth 80 days ago?" Over the course of the weekend, I realize that this man frequently teases good-naturedly.
Tasia, carrying her baby, enters the room in her familiar, quiet demeanor and takes the open seat beside her beaming husband.
As welcoming comments make their way around the room, Elianah leans in close again and quietly explains to me, "a woman must abstain from prayer meetings for 80 days after giving birth. This is Tasia's first day back."
Once everyone is seated quietly, the reflections begin. One of the men, the one who teased about forgetting who Tasia was, talks about how grateful he is that the community is so welcoming.
“Because we only allow the best of the best, isn’t that right??” he calls out, to which many of the children laugh and respond with ‘noooo’. He continues, “people only come here when they realize they’re too good for the rest of the world. So they come here to be with all the other best people, right?” Again, all the children start giggling, ‘no, that’s not right!’.
“No,” he finally says, “we come here because we are all equal. We are all brothers and sisters caring for each other out of love.”
Then there is another prayer and everyone stands with their arms raised high, calling out words of praise and thanks and wishes to Yashua.
Before heading into the kitchen for breakfast, they hold a short deli meeting. It’s extremely practical, discussing logistics about how the deli is run and issues that sometimes come up, what should be done differently, etc. Finally, one of the men in charge of the deli adds, “and remember, guys, we are serving the food of love. Our hearts have to be completely in it.” With that, everyone heads into the kitchen for breakfast.
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Since today is a work day, the breakfast is heavier than yesterday’s breakfast. Oatmeal, fresh eggs, coleslaw, and peach yoghurt.
“Our very own yoghurt, Anneke!” says one of the men happily, ladling out a large scoop into a cup and handing it to his daughter.
Before heading out to the deli in the van Elianah is leaving in, I try to hug as many people goodbye as possible. I write down their mailing address and give them mine, also adding my email and blog address. I know it’s only certain members of the community that will be able to read it or email me though.
“I haven’t looked at a computer screen in four years,” Elianah says happily, “but I will most certainly respond if you write me a letter!”
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Arriving at the deli, Elianah hands me an apron and we set to work. Since Laurienne is still spending time with her father, I am taking over her role in helping Elianah with the baking. We make a large batch of muffins, a coconut cream pie, a cream cheese pie, and a batch of “eggwiches” and “spinwiches”, a specialty of the Yellow Deli. Once the baking is finished, we climb back upstairs to make salads.
Under Elianah’s careful instruction, I learn to make each of the three signature salads at the Yellow Deli as the orders come in. When some of the others go on break, we take over the sandwich bar as well and she teaches me how to make the different sandwiches they serve.
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When she and I take our breaks, we make ourselves a salad and a sandwich and go out to eat at one of the porch tables.
We chat and joke easily, but it is so easy to speak with her that the conversation also slips into more personal topics. I find myself sharing all about James and Ellie, while she tells me about the man she was in love with before finding the community.
Realizing that our break has taken much longer than intended, we decide to hold off on splitting a slice of cream cheese pie and go back to the kitchen instead.
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During some of the slower times of day, the boys in kitchen joke and fool around.
“It’s funny – so many people think we’re actually a cult,” laughs a boy around the age of fifteen. He tells me, “One time, a customer straight-up asked us ‘Are you a cult?’ and the member he asked was just like ‘Yes’. The guy had no idea what to say! He was just like ‘oh…’ and went back to his food.” I laugh at this story and Elianah chimes in with her own story.
“This other time,” she begins while preparing a sandwich, “a customer was telling me how much he loves our food and the atmosphere and the ingredients we use, so I invited him to the Sabbath Celebration because I thought he might enjoy it. He was just like ‘No, I’m not interested in cults’.”
She shyly hides her amusement at the story, but the younger boy makes no bones about it. By his tone, it’s clear he finds it both amusing and strange that someone would spend so much time complimenting them, then dismiss them simply because they were told this community is a cult. Yet that person has never been to the community; never experienced it.
Part of the reason this is so amusing is because they [the Twelve Tribes] are so practical and dismissive of this. They laugh at the idea of it being a cult and they also just don’t care. The fact that outside people think they are a cult holds no importance to them, aside from them finding it amusing. They believe that, when people come and visit the community, the love and “truth” embodied within in it will either resonate with the person and they will stay, or they will not. They pray for those in the “outside world” but do not stress about it. They have no interest in the amusements, concerns, and preoccupations of people in society – it is not part of their world at all. What some people may say about their community is of no concern to them – the wellbeing of their brothers and sisters is the only concern.
Another ironic aspect of people's perception of this community is because people have termed them 'a cult', they often think the members are secretive and suspicious of strangers. In reality, they are the most open and welcoming community I've ever been part of for such a short period of time. Everyone, regardless of beliefs, is welcome to visit the farm and share a meal with the community. They are incredibly warm and easy-going with strangers, believing everyone to be equal. Instead, it is the strangers who are suspicious of them - not the other way around. I'd say the average person is far more secretive and suspicious of strangers than anyone I met in this community.
Another ironic aspect of people's perception of this community is because people have termed them 'a cult', they often think the members are secretive and suspicious of strangers. In reality, they are the most open and welcoming community I've ever been part of for such a short period of time. Everyone, regardless of beliefs, is welcome to visit the farm and share a meal with the community. They are incredibly warm and easy-going with strangers, believing everyone to be equal. Instead, it is the strangers who are suspicious of them - not the other way around. I'd say the average person is far more secretive and suspicious of strangers than anyone I met in this community.
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“Hmmm, which one should I eat?” Gilain wonders aloud as he walks past a dish of vegetables and a piece of cream cheese pie, “should I be indulgent or healthy? Okay, I’ll be healthy.” He plucks a carrot from the vegetable dish and continues on his way.
“What on earth?” laughs the ‘head of staff’ incredulously as he walks past, “how about we don’t eat our customers’ meals, Gilian?” He reopens up the salad bar and replaces the stolen carrot. He turns to Elianah, “I love how he’s just wondering which one would be better to eat. Like, how about neither?”
Laughing, Elianah and I continue our work. This must be why Gilain doesn’t help with the cooking.
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While working together, I ask Elianah why Teminah has her own cabin instead of being in the single women’s cabin.
“Oh,” she responds slowly, “she used to be. She and I roomed together for a while, but it became difficult as guests came to stay. Teminah came to us around a year ago as a guest when we had a wedding here. As everyone else was leaving, she never did, so finally people asked if I would invite her to stay. And she did stay, but she’s had some trouble. She has difficulty trusting people, especially strangers. She’s spent her whole life living in different homeless shelters where she couldn’t trust anyone, so I completely understand where she’s coming from. She’s come so far though and she’s talking with people a lot more now. She’s really opening up and it’s quite beautiful to watch.”
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“Look, this was literally baked into the bread,” Elianah gasps as she pulls a hair out of a slice of bread. Laughing embarrassedly, the tosses the hair into the garbage and inspects the loaf for any others.
“We’re the hairiest people to own restaurants,” she laughs while examining it, “what with the men growing their hair and beards and all. In our Winnipeg community, men wear beard nets!” She laughs at the image.
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Before heading back to the hostel to pick up my stuff for the bus, Elianah and I share one last meal on the porch. This time, we are eating salad and chili. Their chili is somewhat famous around town, but I’ve never tried it before. I can understand why this blessed taste of heaven is famous.
Again, our conversation starts out relaxed but ends up getting more and more personal.
“The first love is always the hardest – it’s so important and valid that it has devastated you so much,” Elianah’s eyes pore deeply and kindly into my own, “it’s because we were created to be with one person and one person alone. Once we created a sacred covenant with that one person, it was never meant to be broken. It is so natural for you to feel utterly betrayed and broken from this. The first person you bind yourself to is supposed to be the only one. We cannot trust the covenants we make in the world anymore. That is why we separate ourselves so much. The covenants we make are real. We don’t break them because they were never meant to be broken.”
There are tears in my eyes as she says this and I can feel her words carving deep into what feels like my soul. I want to run back into their circle screaming and crying, to become a part of their community of true and undying love, to love selflessly and be loved by others, to be entirely free of the self, to know that James and my love should have been forever. But isn’t that just me wanting validation for my continued feelings for him? Isn’t that pride? Isn’t that a form of selfishness? Isn’t all this thinking about what I want just even more selfishness? I reach across the table and grab her hand.
“Thank you,” I say earnestly, “for everything. Your community has shown me so much love. But I can’t stay right now.” She grips my hand tightly, tears now in her eyes as well.
“You’re always welcome here,” she says, “remember that, no matter what happens to you out there, you always have a home here. Always. I’ve been out there and I’ve been so badly hurt before finding my way here. It’s painful to watch someone else going through that.”
Just then, Sara comes out with a piece of cream cheese pie and two forks, placing it in front of us. I had completely forgotten we were going to share a piece of pie! I realize. I smile and thank her, not realizing the tears are still visible in my eyes.
Noticing Elianah’s red eyes, a look of concern for her sister spreads over her face. “Are you okay?” she asks. When Elianah smiles and nods reassuringly, Sara returns back inside.
Elianah and I each take a fork and eat the pie together. I’ve only known her a couple days, but it feels like we’ve created some sort of deep bond. I feel so close to her, like we are sisters already. How can people foster such tight bonds so quickly? And yet there it is – a girl who’s felt free enough to share such intimate details of her life with me and I with her.
As it starts getting later, I finally tear myself away and get ready to head to the hostel. One of the men offers to drive me from the hostel to the Greyhound station and I gratefully accept.
On the way out, Elianah hands me a large plastic bag. “Trip food!” she says, giving me a hug.
“No way!” I say incredulously, peeking inside the bag. There is a large Styrofoam box, a large cardboard sandwich box, two Green Bars, and a large cranberry carob-chip cookie. Reaching over to one of the shelves, the head of staff grabs a whole bag of Miss Vickie’s chips and places in the bag as well.
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| Green Bars are another thing the Yellow Deli is famous for. It is rumoured that one bar is basically an entire meal. After spending three days on a Greyhound bus eating primarily these, I have to agree. I mean, look at those ingredients!! |
“You guys are way too kind!” I gush, relishing in the abundance of delicious food in my hand, “are you sure?”
“Of course!” Elianah says, wrapping me in a giant hug, “you have such a long bus ride ahead of you.” While I hug each of the others a hug good-bye as well, it is the hug with Elianah that lasts the longest. It is incredibly difficult to say goodbye to her.
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After leaving the community, I am surprised both by how welcomed I felt within it and by how quickly it slips from my grasp. It’s easy to look back and “huh, that was weird.” At the same time, they were so generous and loving and kind. There is so much good occurring at Mount Sentinel. They are a group of people with an incredibly powerful bond that makes them feel whole and complete. Every family has their struggles but, at the end of the day, everyone within the community loves and trusts entirely in the community. Their concerns are purely for the community and, as a result, all of their own needs are taken care of. People stay because they want to, because they feel at home there – not because they have to.
Leaving, Elianah looks back up the stairs I am ascending and calls out, “Goodbye, Anneke. Remember that you are always welcome here!”
“Bye, Elianah, I’ll write to you!” Firmly gripping the bag of fresh food they’ve given me out of the kindness of their hearts, I make my way back to the hostel.
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Overall, my experience in the Twelve Tribes was profoundly beautiful. This is not to claim that the tribe as a whole is perfect. They are blatantly homophobic and transphobic. I'm quite certain they practice corporal punishment. But they certainly have changed lives in beautiful ways. They are able to accomplish a sense of community, love, and connection that I've never seen before, providing a home to anyone - particularly those who need it most. People like to be critical and suspicious of groups that act differently and negative stories have a habit of spreading much quicker than the positive ones. However, I think the positive ones are just as important, if not more.
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For anyone interested in visiting one of the Yellow Delis or their communities, they are all over the world and welcome visitors openly. Recently, they opened a deli in Kingston - check it out!
You can read about the other ones or find one near you on their website. I highly recommend getting to know them!
