Cedar Hill, USA – a gaggle of 20 teenagers shuffle in tear-stained horror through a dark, claustrophobic trailer. Led by a tour guide dressed as the Devil, they watch wild-eyed as their peers act out, among other scenes, a Columbine-style classroom massacre, date rape, abortion, suicide, child molestation and a drink-driving accident. By the end of it, they are visibly shaken; many curl up on the grass to cry. It’s not quite the Hallowe’en treat they’d been expecting.
Every weekend evening in the six weeks leading up to Hallowe’en, the Trinity Church orders in the requisite buckets of theatrical blood and prepares for America’s biggest “hell house”. The audience, most of whom are between the ages of 10 and 18, have paid $10 (£6) each to experience the vignettes, each constructed around a hellfire-and-damnation theme with a far-right Christian message.
Like medieval morality plays (which grew out of the mystery play tradition specifically because religious writers sought a more directly didactic and disciplining type of drama), the aim of the show is simple: to scare its audience into the arms of God. And, over the past 15 years, it’s proved surprisingly successful: last year, visitors to the Trinity Church hell house numbered more than 10,000. It is now estimated that some 3,000 hell houses are presented by American evangelical churches every year, with “How to Put on Your Own Hell House” manuals, costing some $300 (£180), exported to Canada the Philippines and South America.
Fear and loathing
Their growth is not without opposition. Gay rights groups, who take umbrage at scenes showing homosexuals going to Hell – a favourite theme in hell houses – have been particularly vocal. “Scaring children about sexuality, giving them inaccurate and harmful information, violates the responsibility of parents and religious leaders,” says the Rev Debra Haffner, former CEO of the Sexuality Information and Education Council of the United States, and a spokesperson for gay rights. But, perhaps more significantly, hell houses have also attracted criticism from fellow evangelical Christian groups.
Justin Thacker, head of theology at the Evangelical Alliance in Britain, shudders at the thought that hell houses might cross the Atlantic. “I have never visited one, but from what I have gathered they are not the way I would want to present Christianity,” he says. “They deliberately try to use fear to promote Christianity, but that is not the kind of Christianity I know and love – and I don’t think that is what Jesus’s message was. I don’t believe you can scare people into having an authentic relationship with God. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
Those who organise hell houses are unrepentant. “Yes, it’s radical, but our goal is to reach people,” counters Pastor Keenan Roberts, who, although insisting that the movement must have been God’s idea in order for it to have become so successful, is largely credited with being the first to host a hell house, 18 years ago at his church in Roswell, New Mexico.
“What we’re doing is presenting real-life issues – abortion, homosexuality. These are sinful choices that have damaging consequences. But through Jesus, we can save people and get them to a place of safety,” he explains from his new posting at the New Destiny Christian Center in Thornton, Colorado. Is he concerned about scaring impressionable teenagers and children? “People criticise us – I’ve heard people call it child abuse and brainwashing. But that is not looking at it from the proper perspective of what outreach does. We recommend it for children aged 12 and up. That’s what we feel is appropriate. Millions and millions of people have been to a hell house because they want to. No one’s forcing them to see it. They want to go.”
Hell on earth
As the sun sets behind Trinity Church in Dallas, that certainly seems to be the case.
By 7pm, a long queue of several hundred eager youngsters are waiting for admittance. Given the festive atmosphere, the youthfulness of the crowd and the excited texting on their mobiles, it could be a Jonas Brothers concert. This hell house advises parents to accompany children under 12, but there are no specific laws governing this.
Most in the crowd seem to belong to church groups, but there are individuals, too. Housewife Terri Hines, has driven her three daughters, Kaylie, 16, Elizabeth, 13, and Madison, 11, for 3 hours from their home in Paris, Texas, in the hope that scaring them will keep them both safe and virginal. “The girls need to be prepared. I want them to realise how horrible abortion can be,” she whispers. “They hear and see so much at such a young age now; they need to know there are consequences for bad decisions.”
Ten minutes later, her daughters are watching a teenage girl writhe in agony on a hospital bed. Overhead, two television monitors show graphic pictures of aborted foetuses. A nurse wipes the girl’s brow, while a doctor scoops blood and pieces of “foetus” (actually chunks of meat) from between her legs. “This hurts sooo bad,” the girl shrieks – and then dramatically flatlines. Aghast, the young audience recoils, while a devil, dressed in a black hood and mask, mocks the patient’s suffering and asks the children, “Can you believe these doctors actually think they are doing a service for women?”
The tour takes 45 minutes, and at the end, the Hines family file into a room where a group of pastors invites them to pray. They have seen visions of “Heaven” and “Hell”, their senses have been bombarded, their fears preyed upon. With all the strobe lighting and effects, they have viewed scenes more bloodcurdling and “real” than many movies offer.
They cry, they hug, they hold hands with strangers, and as they emerge into the cool night air, the tears continue. One girl in a different group passes out. Another cries convulsively on the grass. Faces that had been happy and joyful at the start are now shell-shocked and terrified. Terri Hines embraces 11-year-old Madison, whose reddened face is wet with tears, just like her two older sisters. Does she regret exposing her children to this? “The girls need to be prepared,” she repeats.
Psychological damage
Academic Dr Elisabeth Cornwell, who specialises in developmental psychology at the University of Colorado, believes that the fear and trauma experienced during a hell house tour cause psychological damage. “Fear is a complex emotion – we can actually enjoy fear when going to see a horror film, but most of us can discern reality from fiction,” she explains. “According to these Christians, Hell and the threat of spending eternity being tortured are fact. Internalising fear and anxiety over any prolonged period of time causes damage. Data supports the notion that it permanently alters the brain, affecting memory and learning. I don’t know any child psychologists who recommend fear as a good way of instructing children.”
But as religious fanatics through history have learnt, fear is a powerful tool. Hell houses have become fertile ground for recruitment. More than 200 teenagers from the Trinity Church volunteer to work in the productions every year.
Many, like Selina Dominguez, 15, who has a role in the drink-driving scene, were once paying visitors. “When I came last year, I saw that Hell was a real place,” she explains. “I believe Hell is real, and seeing a hell house was a wake-up call to me.” Likewise August Langley, a 21-year-old student, who plays a devil in one of the scenes, passionately insists: “This is not a calling card for Hollywood. We’re saving people.”
There are no protests outside Trinity Church this year, though there have been in the past. Perhaps hell houses have become so much a part of the Evangelical scene, their critics have accepted defeat. Pastor Roberts doesn’t care either way. “We never started hell houses to be some sort of politically correct group, or to try to garner public support,” he says. “We’ve seen protests by everyone from the pro-abortion activists to gay rights people. Take a number. Get in line. We’re not stopping.”