In the spring of 2024, I was contacted by a law firm representing a Bay area group called the Church of Ambrosia. Founded by David Hodges in 2019, the Church identifies Cannabis and Psilocybe mushrooms as its primary sacraments and is just one many new psychedelic churches emerging across North America and Europe. However, it is also one of the largest, claiming over 100,000 members (which would make it technically one of the largest “mega-churches” in the country, at least by sheer numbers). In the eyes of its critics, the church operates primarily as an illegal dispensary (with Psilocybe mushrooms still illegal in California) and was the subject of a massive raid by Oakland police in 2020. In response, the church has hired an arsenal of lawyers and attempted to enlist various scholars of religion – including myself – in order to make the case that it is a bona fide religious organization whose right to use the psychedelic sacrament in its rites should be legally protected. As such, this case raises some of the most profound questions at the heart of the study of religion: what are the boundaries and limits of religious freedom? What is the role of government in regulating religious practice? And what is the role of the scholar of religion in helping both practitioners and law enforcement to navigate these complex legal questions?
According to his own accounts, Hodges received a divine revelation in 2019 after consuming a very large dose of Psilocybe mushrooms. A group of shining golden beings appeared to him and identified themselves as “mushroom gods,” who had come to give him the mission to spread the knowledge of these sacraments to the world. The mushrooms also brought him the knowledge of the “Religious Evolution Doctrine,” a core belief of the Church of Ambrosia. Basically a variant of Terence McKenna’s “stoned ape” theory, the doctrine suggests that modern human consciousness and spirituality were inspired when early Homo sapiens first consumed Psilocybe mushrooms, which stimulated their powers of language, symbolic thought, and spiritual insight.
Because mushrooms lie at the origins of human consciousness and religion itself, they form the primary sacrament of the church. Going further than Mckenna and other modern psychonauts, however, Hodges recommends massive doses of Psilocybe – 6 to 10 grams, which is up to twice as much as McKenna’s recommendation for “heroic doses.” Indeed, the church recommends having ready access to a bathroom and even wearing Depends when consuming these large doses.
The 2020 police raid was motivated by the fact that the church is distributing Psilocybe (which is illegal in California) and selling Cannabis (which is legal but only for licensed dispensaries). In response, the church has made two separate arguments. One is that it is not actually “selling” Cannabis or Psilocybe, since all members sign an agreement that means they own everything within the church, including the sacraments; thus, there is technically no transfer of ownership, and members are simply making “donations” to the church. Second, Hodges argues that Psilocybe should be given in an exemption for religious use, in much the same way that peyote is given an exemption for use by the Native American Church and Cannabis is given an exemption for use by Rastafarians.
To help make the latter case, the church and its lawyers contacted several scholars of religion, me included. Significantly, they were seeking help not just in defending the religious nature of the church, but in actually helping to construct the church from the ground up. In other words, they wanted specific advice on how to imagine an institutional hierarchy, clergy, rituals, and other trappings of a “religion” that might be recognized by state and federal agencies.
All of this raises many profound questions at the heart of the academic study of religion and the role of the scholar. On the one hand, I found all of this incredibly interesting, since it offered an opportunity to watch the birth of a new religion in real time (almost like being a fly on the wall at the dawn of Scientology). Yet on the other hand, this also raises all sorts of legal questions, ethical conundrums, and possible conflicts of interest. The activities of the church (such as consuming massive doses of Psilocybe) raise numerous questions about liability and safety. At the same time, working with the church in this sort of role would also put the scholar of religion in the curious position of being an active participant in the very creation of the religion that s/he was hoping to study (It’s worth noting that when I asked my own university’s office of legal affairs for guidance on these questions, they basically wanted nothing to do with the case and told me to hire my own lawyers).
For all these reasons, I ultimately declined to work as an advisor or expert witness for the church. However, I would still argue that this example raises a number of profound questions that are central to the academic study of religion in the twenty-first century, particularly amidst the current psychedelic renaissance. Where are the boundaries of religious freedom in a psychedelic age? How do we balance first amendment rights with public safety? And what is the role of the scholar in helping religious communities, law enforcement, and the public navigate these complex questions?
To think through these complex questions, I will draw some comparative insights from other religious movements that have had a complex legal history in the U.S., including the Native American Church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and the Church of Scientology; I will also draw upon the work of scholars of religion and law such as Winnifred Sullivan, Greg Johnson, and Isaac Weiner. The case of the Church of Ambrosia, I will argue, not only forces us to grapple with what Sullivan calls the “impossibility of religious freedom” but also to rethink the role of the scholar in our increasingly litigious and legally contested era.
This paper examines the complex history and legal status of the Church of Ambrosia, with special attention to the role of the scholar in the legal process. Founded in the Bay area by David Hodges in 2019, the Church identifies Cannabis and Psilocybe mushrooms as its primary sacraments and now claims over 100,000 members. In the eyes of many critics, the church operates largely as an illegal dispensary and was the target of a massive raid by Oakland police in 2020. In turn, the church has sought advice and expert testimony from religious studies scholars (including this author) to try to make the case that it is a bona fide religious organization whose rights to use psychedelics should be legally protected. As such, this case raises profound questions of religious freedom and scholarly ethics that will become increasingly important as ever more psychedelic churches emerge in the twenty-first century.