The Rizzos attended meetings, fulfilling the mission door to door, with little blond Mikey in tow, doing God’s work. Life was in order, the family was happy and God was pleased. celebrated one Christmas and one Easter together before committing full-fledge to the church—before they found “the Truth.” They attended meetings, fulfilling the mission door to door, little blond Mikey in tow, doing God’s work. Life was in order, the family was happy and God was pleased. That’s when Mikey, a natural-born performer (who’d find in his later-teen years fulfilling work on dance teams and theme park stages), took the reigns. “I used to love going door to door. I was four years old. Most of the time when you’re that young, obviously, you’re not going to do the talking. But by the time I was four, my mother had let me start the conversation at the door on Saturday morning. I knocked. I started speaking first. I was so proud of myself,” says Rizzo. He was entertaining and precocious, but more than that, he was prodigious in this persuasive role. “It was always just in my nature to be an overachiever, but an overachiever because I wanted to please my parents,” says Rizzo. “I wanted the accolade. I wanted the ‘good job.’ In many areas, in school, in lots of things, and I was definitely an overachiever in the religion. I loved going on door-to-door field service. For whatever reason, when I started school in kindergarten, I could not wait to tell my teacher that I couldn’t say the Pledge of Allegiance at the beginning of the school day because it was against my religion.” Bringing The Truth to the secular: a big plus. “By the time I was six years old, I was enrolled in the Theocratic Ministry School,” a preparatory curriculum for future Publishers. “Most kids wouldn’t join the school until they were maybe 10. I was going up on stage in front of a congregation of 70 people, doing my five-minute talk, my bible reading. They would then come down and assess me.” He passed the biggest test. Michael Rizzo was baptized at the young age of eight. He was years ahead of his classmates for this distinction, and in some ways, more natural than his adult peers. He was just too good at this. “I remember I was so mad, because I was scheduled to get baptized on, I think it was, March 12; I would have been seven years old.” He’s smiling as he’s telling this part. “But there was a snow storm, and so it got postponed until after my eighth birthday, and I was so mad that I wasn’t to
be seven years old: the youngest ever.” While Rizzo’s natural fit for baptismal responsibility was self-evident, questions about the appropriateness of its rushed maturation were raised. “I don’t think it was something that was totally encouraged. There was probably some understanding that, you know, let him go through puberty, let him come into his teenage years, and make all his mistakes. I mean, how many young kids—12, 13, 14—are going to want to be fully invested in their religion?” Expectations could be adjusted, if it became necessary. His parents and elders wanted to protect both his ability to perform and his well being. “There was the understanding that if your young teenager was starting to show that they didn’t want to go out for service, and they didn’t want to go to meetings anymore, don’t worry, they’re probably just going through a tough time. But with me, between my parents or with my elders, there was no concern that my intentions were 100 percent true.” “I loved Jehovah and I was out in service all the time. I loved commenting at the meetings. I loved doing all that stuff,” says Rizzo. “There was no worry I would stray from my duty or expectations. I was an example in the congregation to look up to. Other parents that had children younger than me wanted me to spend time with their kid.” Life as a Jehovah’s Witness would seem to confirm an outsider’s first impression. Rizzo describes the organization as businesslike, while using the word “cult” to describe the effects of the church’s many social restrictions, institutional standards and judicial review. (That there is even a judicial review, for instance.) “Socially speaking, Jehovah’s Witnesses purposely do everything they can to set themselves apart from every other Christian organization,” says Rizzo. “They believe that they need to stand out in this world as very clean, as very honorable. They don’t swear. They don’t do anything bad at all.” “Bad” is relative, however. “In areas of personal behavior, there are some [instances] that they call ‘conscious matters,’ which means it’s not really clear what you’re supposed to do,” says Rizzo. BCM 36 49