Chapter 24 Reinforcing the Doctrines

Chapter 24 Reinforcing the Doctrines

I hung on until one afternoon when Trisha and I began watching the Oprah show. The topic turned toward the Rev. Jimmy Swaggart. We laughed and was beside ourselves about him being caught in a sleazy motel outside of New Orleans with a prostitute, and we showered the "Watch Tower Bible and Tract Society" with praises of being pure and clean. "Isn’t it nice to be part of a religion that lives its teachings," I said with pride.

"Yes it is. We’re so fortunate to live in a spiritual paradise," Trisha agreed.

"I’m gonna go look up Jimmy Swaggart on the internet and see what else I can dig up on that clown," I said in a condescending tone as I rose from the couch and enter the office and sat down at the computer desk. I typed in Jimmy Swaggart and began scanning the topics. My heart skipped a beat. "Jimmy Swaggart and Jehovah Witnesses" popped up and my hands started to tremble as I clicked the mouse and a window opened. "California Board of Equalization vs. Jimmy Swaggart Ministries." I read the tag line then open the article which stated the state of California wanted to assess sales taxes on the sale of books, tapes, and other items by Swaggart’s ministry. The Watch Tower Bible and Tract Society had filed amicus curiae (a friend of the court legal brief) in support of Swaggart’s position, in which a prepared statement declaring a religious organization should be exempt from such taxation. On Jan. 17, 1990, the Supreme Court ruled against Swaggart and permitted taxation.

It was then,I realized the society’s new policy of asking for donations for the literature instead of suggesting a specific price was a movement to beat the IRS out of taxes because donations are tax-free. I returned to the living room and told Trisha what I had found out.

"The Society is trying to save some money. Everything is up front and above board," she said blowing it off as nothing serious.

"If everything is above board why didn’t they inform the congregations they filed a "friend of the court brief with Jimmy Swaggart," I continued mulling over the discovery and said,"There are some funny things going on. Why did they change our meal program from charging for meals to giving a donation instead? Then why did they discontinue serving meals at assemblies to suggesting we bring bag lunches? You recall all these changes came bang, bang, bang--all after 1990. Remember," I said with skepticism countering her statement.

"I don’t have any different answers from what they mention through their letters to the congregation," she said sarcastically, "You've heard all the letters read as well as me, and we always agreed with the Society’s point of view, ‘these changes are loving provisions from Jehovah.’ All the sisters are happy with the new arrangements. Now their husbands can help them with the kids and listen to the program. You know all the changes are to help the brothers benefit from the assembly programs and receive the spiritual food instead of working during the programs. I don’t know why I have to come to the Society’s defense with you of all people," she said with indignation.

"They didn’t seem to mind how much the brothers missed the programs up until the donation arrangement came into existence, now did they? Could it be all about money, they were making money from the meals, I know that because they encourage everyone to eat at the assemblies because it was "good association and an expression of our faith." We all donated more at the assemblies for the new releases so they make money from the literature, and they make money from the parking tickets; and besides, we are always sending the remainder of the assembly funds to the Society," my response brought about the close of the conversation.

"I don’t want to talk about it anymore," she said adopting a typical application to the Society’s admonition, do not cast your pearls before swine, but shake the dust off your shoes and move on to those who are worthy. "Maybe you should stay away from the computer; and what is that World Wide Web anyway? You’re going to develop doubts if you keep it up. You better be careful," she said warning me.

"If the truth is the truth, then there isn’t anything to be afraid of, is it?" The question I posed seemed perfect and reasonable. The truth should stand on its own. The internet was a source of freedom of which I had never had during the past thirty years. I never researched anything outside the Society’s approved material and what I had just learned, open my mind to new ideas and I was stimulated, and became more adventurous after I picked up Warren’s ancient history book he left laying on the coffee table.. I flipped through the index and found Jerusalem, then searched for the topic "the fall of," found nothing; then saw "the destruction of Jerusalem." There wasn’t any date listed; so I turned to the chapter looking for the date 607 B.B.E.; there was no 607 B.C.E., but there was the date 586 B.C. The year 607 B.C.E. was not mentioned; therefore, I started researching the fall of Jerusalem. Every historical record supported the 586/587 date, even the web site dealing with the antiquities of the Jews placed the destruction to be in 586 B.C.E. Josephus' Antiquities of the Jews also backed up the 586 date. Jerusalem was under siege for many long months as the food ran out and disease and starvation spread throughout the city.

On July 10, 586 B.C., the Babylonian forces of king Nebuchadnezzar broke through the northern wall of Jerusalem and it was just a matter of time. The Jewish survivors were hauled across the Syrian Desert to Babylon, many of them perishing along the way. The Southern Kingdom of Judah had ceased to exist, the monarchy had ended and this marked the end of the First Temple Period and they set fire to Jerusalem and destroyed the outer walls of the city. All military, civil and religious leaders were executed or carried away into captivity. The poorest of the poor even back then were not wanted and left behind in Judah, which was in complete desolation.
Upon reading this, I now knew it was the Society that had everything to lose. Both the Jewish and Babylonian history agreed to the same date and it was not 607 B.C.E. The first person I told was Trisha as she came home from work I didn’t wait for her to sit down and I didn’t wait for her to relax. I blurted out, "Guess what I learned today?"

"What, did you learn," she said irritated.

"Honey, what happened in 607 B.C.E.?" I inquired with a scholarly air, pretending I was a professor of history.

"Babylon destroyed Jerusalem," she answered proudly. "Why?"

"That ain’t what Warren’s history book says. That ain’t what Josephus’ "Antiquities of the Jews" say. The Babylonian History doesn’t say 607," I stated in hope the things I was telling her would encourage her to understand we had been tricked, lied to, and bamboozled, but she held firm to the integrity of the Society’s historical accounts.

"They could all be wrong, you know what the Society says about world history; historians twist dates and facts around to discredit the Bible. Why are you questioning the Society after all these years?" she asked in astonishment.

"Who has the most to loose with the application of the wrong date? Is there any other religion that has its main doctrine based on 1914, and Jesus’ invisible presence? You remember 1975 don’t you? They were wrong about that date--Armageddon didn’t come, "Lit'el" Rags died and now they have changed the, this generation doctrine. Has it hit you yet? We are going to die and we are not going to see the New Order. I followed the Society to the tee. I stayed in a comfort zone, never missing meetings, working for crappy contractors and brothers just to make ends meet. There are not any retirement or medical plans we can fall back on. Why? Why--because I put my trust in God’s Organization, and now I find out it is bull shit." I said my voice turned into the voice Trisha and Rachelle hated. I was preaching a "holier than thou sermon" trying to tear down Trisha's resolve and march with me in an exit performance.

"You need to talk to the elders," her statement crushed me.

"I don’t need to talk to anybody. It’s over," I shouted. We’ve been hood winked, God damn it!" I said, taking God’s name in vain with all my conviction, and it sounded weird coming out of my mouth.

"You don’t have to talk like that," she commanded," call Alex and talk to him."
"You want me to talk to Alex, the guy that threw his TV out in the yard, been hauled before the brothers for fits of anger, and mistreating our daughter and grand children. Are you nuts?"

"That is in the past, he is an elder now!"

"It wasn’t too far in the past. A year ago Tren was here crying and wanting to get a divorce, if I remember correctly. I’ve been deleted longer than he has been a witness. I conducted the Babylon the Great Has Fallen! God’s Kingdom Rules! I know what is taught, but if it makes you happy I’ll call Alex." I dialed his number. "Hey Alex, glad to find you home. Look I’ve been doing some research-"

"That’s good Dad," the inflection in his voice gave proof he was both pleased and surprised I was studying again. "What are you researching?" He asked congenially.

"I happen to pick up Warren’s history book, guess what date Jerusalem was destroyed?" I asked.

"607 B.C.E," he responded, "you know the Society has all the historical data on the new C D Rom-"

"I know," I answered, "but I went to the Jewish Antiquity page on the internet as well as the Historical accounts written on the Babylonian Cuneiform tablets detailing the fall of Jerusalem. Everywhere I searched, 607 was never mentioned."

"Wait a minute Dad, I’ll put in the "Society’s C D and read it to you." I heard papers shuffling, and drawers opening and shutting, "here it is Dad." The whirr of the C D drive kicked in.

I knew he was going to start pulling up the same old dogma I had parroted over the past thirty years; so, before the C D drive stopped its whirring, I said, "Alex don’t waste your time, I can tell you how 1914 is calculated. I know the Faithful and Discreet Slave teaches 607 was the fall and I’m telling you there is not one scholar or history professor who corroborates the 607 date. Both the Jews and the Babylonian accounts state 587/586 as the 18th year of Nebuchadnezzar’s reign, 605 was the first year of his reign. The Society says 607 was the eighteenth year of Nebuchadnezzar’s reign when he entered Jerusalem and destroyed the city. What you think Alex?" My counter response fell on a dead moment, and then I heard some more shuffling of some papers, a click which I assumed to be a tape recorder and Alex clearing of his throat just before he asked, "Rags, are you telling me the Faithful and Discreet Slave is wrong?"

"I’m telling you Jerusalem fell in 587 by all accounts except us. That’s all I’m telling you." I knew where he was heading with his questioning. He needed to start the process of "keeping the congregation clean," culling out the dead wood, the "spiritual weak", the doubter, and the independent thinker--"Remove the unclean thing from among you." If he could prove I was becoming apostate; I would be "disfellowshipped" and considered a dog returning to his vomit--something detestable. Though I would be alive, I would be dead to family and friends.

"Do you believe the Faithful and Discreet Slave is being used by Jehovah as his Channel of Communication here on Earth," Alex’s question was trying to get me to admit to apostasy. From this moment on, I needed to be careful in what I said.

"I believe he has a channel of communication," I said having everything to loose and nothing to gain except my freedom, but what good was my freedom if my entire family refused to speak to me, and consider me dead. Shunning was not an option at this time, because my entire family was in the truth. Silas had been baptized for two years, and Warren had plans to be baptized. Trisha’s mother was baptized and she was in her seventies. Trisha had been loosing her health as of late and I was now 55 years old and fighting my own health problems and a multitude of different ailments. I did not want to get disfellowshipped--I could not get disfellowshipped, but I could not accept our teachings any longer.

"I’ll talk to you later at the meeting," Alex said as he hung up the phone. I was not going to the meeting tonight. I seldom went to the meetings anymore.

"Well, Honey," I said turning my attention back to Trisha. "I think fhit will hit the san tonight. I didn’t impress Alex with my research as you could hear."

"I think all that internet stuff is clouding your mind," she said with a shrug, "I don’t know what to say."

"There isn’t anything to say."

"Are you going to the meeting tonight?"

"No, I’m not."

"Why doesn’t that surprise me," she said under her breath as she walked to the bedroom. "I’ve got to get dress for the meeting," her voice increased in intensity, "Warren get your suit on!" The closing of the door punctuated her statement.

I could not wait for them to leave, and when they left, I opened a web page about Jehovah’s Witnesses and ran across an advertisement selling books written by and about Jehovah Witnesses. The two books, which caught my attention, were, In Search of "Christian Freedom" and "Crisis of Conscience," both written by Ray Franz. The tag line for "Crisis of Conscience" stated, "Ray Franz, former member of Jehovah’s Witnesses’ Governing Body and the nephew of the President of the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society, Fred Franz." I had never heard of Ray Franz; matter of fact, I was never interested in finding out the names of any of the Governing Body, but the description and synopsis jarred my memory, and I recalled some rumor in the eighties concerning a member of the Governing Body being disfellowshipped for apostasy. I remembered hearing a talk suggesting the discarding any material written by apostates, "don't even open the cover." The Society considered this literature demonized and by reading it, suggested the reader was inviting the demons into the reader’s home and mind.

I don’t think many at my level in the organization could have or was interested enough to have named the members of the Governing Body, but after realizing the brother mentioned was a member of the Governing Body we became excited. There was a consensus of "I think they must read and pray all day," as a fiend said one day, and I sure thought they did. I, like most, believed the Governing Body would be officious with the Bible as one member would articulate what he understood from Holy Spirit, and some other member would add to that until there was a unanimous assessment and consensus reached. There was little known about the process of how decisions were made or scriptures came to be understood. I never even thought about them, whoever they were. They were thought of as a group of men in NY who knew something we didn't know, and were obligated to spread the news they learned. "I never thought about their sources of enlightenment," said Sister Lenora Smith, a pioneer sister, one day during a discussion before we left the Hall for field service, "I am just flattered in hearing the latest news, the latest updates, anything that made me think the end is closer."

The Governing Body was a much talked about anonymous agency, much like the wizard in the Wizard of Oz. They were a voice, cloaked behind a curtain, of curiosity and humility using the phrase, "We want to give praise to Jehovah and not to receive praise, for we are just Jehovah’s instrument," as their mantra of reasoning behind the question: Why is there such anonymousness in the literature published by the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society? This is the only question one could ask about the Governing Body because the organization conditioned us to never question their understanding of the scriptures, and never run ahead. To question them would be to question the Organization, and to question the Organization was to question Jehovah--after all, they are Jehovah's "Channel of Communication" on Earth to distribute the food at the proper time--and to question their decision was a "disfellowshipping" offense.

The advertisement gave life to my newfound interest of why the Governing Body was so secretive; therefore, I ordered "Crisis of Conscience" and then turned off the internet. I did not want to answer any questions from Trisha about what I had been doing. My eyes drifted over to the shelf that held my binder. It had been years and a river of tears passed since I even thought about those words. I walked over and pulled it out, sat back down and opened it to the scrambled words, closed my eyes and ran my fingers over the page and words I had written twelve years earlier. I began to weep as memories open the pain in my heart once again and the words: He came to me again last night, my love flew to a new height fit in so lyrically with the scribbled words of: he smiled and said how are you dad I love you so don't be sad. It was as if a dam of pent up words rushed out, all making sense and rhyme, and I kept on writing, not caring for grammar or punctuation or anything else--for eighteen years I fought the fight you probed me on to my delight I didn't think I could take much more I got tired and opened death's door son what can I do tell me please I don't know dad I don't have life's keys you know I can come and stand in your dreams if you can do it do it by all means I must leave dad while you're asleep no no no I reached out my arms for his soul to keep I'll come again dad so keep your veracities until that time son until that time I'll keep your photographs, potted plants and memories. There it was finished--finalized. I was elated--so many hours had gone into this poem, and bang in five minutes, it was finished. It was my catharsis, and as I finished the last word, a weight lifted from my shoulders and I could feel my body purging itself of the pain, guilt, and heartbreak.

I rushed out when Trisha and the kids came home. I could not wait for the kids to go to bed so I could read the poem to her. We tried not to discuss "Lit'el" Rags in front of the kids because we broke down and it just made the situation go from bad to worst and the kids would end up in tears of sympathy for us--they were stronger than us--we were…. "The brothers were looking for you," she said to me before ordering the kids to go to bed.

"I bet they were," I replied and then brushed it off as I followed her into our bedroom as she undressed. "You know that ditty, photographs, potted plants and memories I was working on since "Lit'el" Rags died. Well, it is finished!"

"Good for you," she said sarcastically.We had been married too long to let a little scorn deter my plans.

"Do you want to read it?"

"No, you read it."

I began to read it, and it was just a mess of words without any meaning. It sounded so good--a work of art--in my mind as it was mentally punctuated. I stopped.

"You need to punctuate it, so it makes sense," she opined before asking, "Are you coming to bed?"

"No, I'm gonna fix this poem then I'll be here."

It was two o'clock in the morning when I completed the poem and woke Trisha up. "Honey,I got it fixed. Listen!"
Photographs, Potted Plants, and Memories
He came to me again last night; my love flew to a new height
He smiled, and said, "How are you Dad? I love you so don't be sad.
For eighteen years, I fought the fight.
You probed me on to my delight.
I didn't think I could take much more.
I got tired and opened death's door.
"Son what can I do, tell me please."
"I don't know dad. I don't have life's keys."
"You know I can come and stand in your dreams.
"If you can do it, do it, by all means."
"I must leave dad while you're asleep."
"No! No! No!" I reached out my arms for his soul to keep.
"I love you Dad and give my love to Mama please.
"Until that time son, until that time I'll keep your photographs, potted plants and memories.

"That's beautiful, Honey," Trisha said through a swelling of tears and crackling of voice and that was the last time I cried with a broken heart over "Lit'el" Rags.