Sitting cross-legged on pillows that they had brought from their hotel rooms, the crowd of 700 neatly dressed middle-aged and middle-class couples were mesmerized by the tall, slender, blond woman in front of them. Dressed in a starched white Oriental tunic over gray sweat pants and sneakers, J.Z. Knight, 40, sat on a makeshift stage in a sturdy armchair surrounded by a veritable garden of lavender flowers. Her voice, almost preternaturally husky, seemed to take on a gamut of accents from European to Indian as she spouted a relentless stream of imperatives about self-reliance and the god within. "You will receive...
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