Story 1 — Meeting Mr. Prophet

The chance encounter that changed my life

In the autumn of 1972, my newlywed wife and I were living with 10 other devotees in a 3HO Sikh Ashram in Colorado Springs, Colorado, and working full-time at the ashram’s restaurant, Hanuman’s Conscious Cookery. In addition to serving healthful vegetarian cuisine, we viewed our work as providing a place for those seeking spiritual teachings from the East.

Looking back, the ashram provided both of us with what was a large dose of self-discipline, something we knew we were in need of. Rising 7 days a week at 3 a.m., praying, chanting, singing, doing yoga postures, and reading aloud from the Guru Granth Sahib until 6.30, then sharing a half-hour community breakfast, it was a sort of spiritual boot-camp. At 7 a.m. sharp, it was off to our various assignments: some devotees running our health food store in one part of town; others growing and packaging for sale a variety of fresh sprouts down in our retrofitted ashram basement; Eileen and I heading across town to the Cookery, which we managed on a full-time basis.

As happenstance would have it

On a frigid December day, this phase of our life underwent an abrupt and surprising change, from an altogether unexpected source.

First a bit of background. We had heard about The Summit Lighthouse organization — it was, after all, headquartered in Colorado Springs — but it held no particular interest for us. We understood from various area residents that it was “just another Christian organization.”

Posters featuring Mark Prophet, the Summit leader, were a common sight about town. He was invariably shown in a suit and tie, which confirmed for us that the Summit must be a pretty straight-laced operation — not something, according to our jaded viewpoint, we would want to become involved with. In fact, we had heard about the Summit’s local restaurant, the Four Winds Organic Center, because it was our biggest competitor. But we had never gone there. For one thing, our ashram lifestyle was well and truly isolated. Imagining we would encounter some unwelcome proselytizing, it was not on a short list of things to do in our sparse free time.

As it happened, on the day in question, we needed some last-minute items for the evening’s main course. In shirtsleeves and apron, I rushed out in the direction of the nearby supermarket. Racing across the intersection to beat a traffic light, I skidded on a sheet of ice and went into an uncontrolled slide. A tall man in a purple stocking cap(!), coming from the opposite direction, caught me by the shoulders just in time to prevent my fall.

Recognizing him immediately, I exclaimed, “Why, you’re Mark Prophet!” He smiled and said, “Why yes! And who are you?” I introduced myself and invited him and his 4 companions, whom I later learned were Summit staff members, to come to our restaurant for our house specialty, some fresh-brewed yogi tea. The invitation was graciously accepted.

Tea time with Mark

We sat together under a picture of the Hindu servant Hanuman, while Mark shared his enthusiasm for ‘Mother India,’ enchanting our small restaurant staff with anecdotes from his recent visit there. During his narrative, we peppered Mark with questions. His wise, humorous, and self-effacing responses were particularly endearing to me.

He described the abundance of temples and shrines and religious statuary. We heard of bus rides with sadhus seated tranquilly in lotus positions, while tradesmen hawked wares and chickens flew about the cab. Mark shared, with touching sincerity, the mystical beauty of the Taj Mahal. He spoke affectionately of his meeting with Mother Teresa and her Missionaries of Charity. And he relived for us receiving freshly baked chapattis from gracious Buddhist monks in their tranquil Himalayan retreat.

Although we understood he was the leader of a religious organization, he never spoke of it. He simply shared colorful vignettes from his India trip. It was all of perhaps twenty minutes, but a magic interlude that led to a permanent course adjustment for both me and Eileen. Even as Mark and his entourage were leaving, I resolved to find out more about this man, and what in fact The Summit Lighthouse stood for.

Upon reflection, I can say that what came through from Mark was his almost childlike joy of sharing in the Spirit. He is often described by those who knew him well as not only a wise teacher but a confidant and friend. Most attractive for me was the perception that he was a thoroughly unpretentious individual.

I can witness that it was this single encounter with Mark that not only drew me to the Summit activity, but that has helped me through the thick and thin of the ensuing years of my earthly sojourn. In short, meeting Mark Prophet was a positive, life-changing experience, and I confess my gratitude to Mark and heaven above— considering that I was perhaps a bit too obstinate to find the organization without a jolting confrontation on a public street…

The Four Winds: refuge in a hectic city

At the first opportunity, we visited the Four Winds. For middle America in the early 1970s, it was delightfully innovative: a health food store, juice bar, whole grains bakery, bookstore with reading room and a formal dining area — decked-out with colorful wall murals and staffed by young, fresh-faced Summit devotees. Encountering the staff members there — a delightful group of lighthearted and friendly people — we found it impossible not to be impressed and attracted to them. However, at the same time, not being informed of their spiritual views, we were cautious.

Over the next several weeks, when we could, we headed to the Four Winds and became personally acquainted with the staff. Including Brewster, the conversational floor manager, Alexandro, fresh from Hawaii and filling juice orders with a bright smile, and Terry, an accomplished country and western crooner — each of whom, these 50 years later, are still heart friends.

On our visits, Eileen and I asked penetrating questions about the Summit teachings and read some of their introductory brochures. We tried out a few of their spoken decrees (similar to Eastern mantras, but in English), even sharing them back at the ashram, as it were to mixed reviews…

Memorial service for Mark!

On the last Friday in February 1973, having the afternoon to ourselves, Eileen and I pulled up in front of the Four Winds on our ten-speed bikes. Although it was a weekday, the window blinds were drawn, and the entrance was locked. Posted on the door was an obituary notice: Mark Prophet had passed on, and a memorial service was scheduled for 3 o’clock that very afternoon at the Summit headquarters. The listed address was in the city’s ritzy Broadmoor subdivision, an area we had never visited.

Without a second thought, we set off riding. By following our noses and intuition, we arrived at the Summit’s wrought iron entrance gate precisely at 3 p.m. Before our solemn gaze stood a splendid ivy-decked Tudor mansion, framed by the snow-capped Rocky Mountain Front Range, and bathed in the often obliging Colorado winter sun. Transcendent strains of music wafted out the glazed windows and over the front lawn.

As we entered the manicured grounds, though not given to flights of fancy, I can distinctly remember wondering if I was somehow inside a dream.

In my next post, we re-live Mark Prophet’s memorial service, including our meeting with his radiant and yet grieving wife Elizabeth, and followers in the hundreds who knew, loved, and deeply revered this man.

If you have had a memorable encounter or experience in life that started you in a positive new direction spiritually, I sincerely welcome you to share that with other readers, and I will soon initiate a means for doing that here.