Commercialization of Healing: Navigating the Spiritist Theme Park

By Christina Gago

Approaching the Casa for morning services, I see a double-decker bus parked by the Casa’s line of taxis, and I witness hundreds of travellers pouring out of the vehicles, exhausted from their lengthy journeys throughout Brazil and beyond.  Turning my gaze to the highly concentrated sea of white, I wonder whether adult on-set claustrophobia is possible.  Trying to find a clearing through the crowd, I zigzag through the people to find my way to the bookstore: the official start of my spiritual journey.  Approaching the counter, I pick up my free ticket to stand before John of God.  This pass, however, is not the only item that catches my eye as my inner consumerist tendencies force me to sift through the shelves of John of God merchandise surrounding me.   Gazing at all of the glittering crystals and their hefty price tags, perusing the paintings honoring John of God, sifting through the mounds of jewelry hanging limply on the racks, I am reminded of museum bookstores where guides usher tourists after viewing an exhibit.  Eventually walking outside, I turn to my left and see a snack shack (selling everything from travel-sized toothpaste to baked cheese bread) calling my name.

The snack shack at the Casa

The snack shack at the Casa

     Forcing myself back into focus, I continue walking, trying to return to my healing journey.  No time for snacks— there is healing to be done!  Seeing a variety of lines before me, I finally reach the translation line (where I will write my message for the spirits).  Planting myself in the line, I am startled by the blasting prayer emanating from the speakers above me.  I feel like I am at a concert as everyone around me chants along with the performer on the Great Hall’s stage.

     Noticing the translation booth to my right, I ask a volunteer to write my prayers for the spirits in Portuguese in preparation for meeting John of God.  I then sift my way through the sea of white once again, trying to be polite, yet aggressive (not my strong suit).  Finally, digging my way through the crowds I make it to the Great Hall, where, looking around, I recognize bookstore triangle necklaces dangling from the necks of dozens of followers.  Don’t worry, I bought one later.  Sitting on the floor, patiently waiting for my line to be called, I finally heard “Segunda Vez Fila”—that was me.

     Moving quickly through the line, I soon handed my prayer to Diego (a volunteer of the Casa).  Without a glance, a smile, or the slightest acknowledgement, John of God handed me a R$60 ($30. U.S.) scribbled prescription card. After noting the enormous line at the pharmacy, I decided to return later, and instead, I began walking back to the Casa.  On my trek back to the hotel, I noticed John of God’s crystal shop across the street and decided to take a quick look as my consumerist instincts took over yet again.  Looking into the shop I saw everything from R$1200 personal crystal beds, to bedazzled t-shirts (a fan favorite), to blessed water cases, to thousands of unique crystals.  Walking out, slightly shell-shocked from the number of hungry customers and the pricey tags, I continued my journey to the hotel for lunch.

Crystal Shop in Abadiania belonging to the Casa

Crystal Shop in Abadiania belonging to the Casa

Upon returning to the Casa after my break, I snatched a seat near the stage of the Great Hall; this was no easy feat as everyone sought the coveted front row seats.  After I claimed my seat, official Casa mediums brought several individuals to the stage and John of God soon arrived in their wake.  Pulling utensils from metal trays held in front of him, John of God began scraping the eyes of some individuals and cutting the flesh of others.  People in the audience became restless, moving as close to the stage as possible, eager to see in person what they had seen on YouTube.  I was no better.  As a looked around, comparing the scene to a zoo exhibit, I questioned the commercialization of the Casa experience.

Considering the fast-growing quantities of visitors from all over the world, I understand why John of God must charge for some aspects of his services, as he must pay for janitorial staff, Casa renovation projects, ingredients for the thousands of bowls of soup prepared daily, and so much more to keep the Casa running.  I find it hypocritical, however, that John of God charges for his prescriptions and his crystal bed treatments (which shine a rainbow of light on your chakras). He claims that he will never charge for his services, yet he undeniably asks people to pay for their treatments that follow after his initial evaluation, sometimes prescribing costly herbs on a daily basis after every new evaluation.  While I understand that some sales and revenue (such as those made through the bookstore and snack shack) are necessary based on the huge scale of people he serves, the inescapable commercialism of the Casa gives it a similar atmosphere to a tourist attraction or spiritual theme park and, in doing so, detracts from the valuable healing services.

Piles of T-shirts with John of God's image on them.

Piles of T-shirts with John of God’s image on them.

 

 

 

 

 

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