Paul and the Progressives

 It’s been an entertaining Saturday afternoon. I spent about an hour listening to one side of the great United Methodist Church Split. I ran out of popcorn! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCitClZNq-w

 I kept hearing echoes reverberating through history for thousands of years. Ever wonder why there are so many different Christian churches, all claiming to be the correct one? Whenever there is a schism, it is a division between Traditionalists and Progressives. 

This situation dates all the way back to around 35 CE, when Paul entered the story.

When Jesus was crucified and subsequently taken away to heaven, promising to return soon, he did not leave a unified Christian Church on the earth. There is no record that he ever told his disciples that they didn’t have to be Jews anymore. 

He never said, “ You don’t have to keep the Law or the Sabbath anymore!” 

In fact, Matthew’s Gospel says the opposite. “Not one jot or one tittle shall be changed until all is fulfilled.”

In the interest of showing my place in this argument, I was raised Seventh-day Adventist, and now attend the Unitarian Universalist Church. As a Buddhist! It was a long journey from one side to the other!

The believers that Jesus left in Jerusalem were all devout Jews. They believed in the Law, circumcision, kosher food, and keeping separate from Gentiles and infidels. Many, if not most of them, did not believe Jesus was The Son of God. That would have been anathema to any observant monotheistic Jew.

Some of them became known as Ebionites (Poor Ones), perhaps because they gave all their money and possessions to the church to be held in common. (Acts 4:34-37)  

And then Paul showed up. At first he was known as Saul, and he took part in persecuting this new sect of Jesus worshippers, since he was a strict Pharisee, and did not appreciate these deviant offshoots of true Judaism. 

Then he disappeared for awhile, before reappearing as a Jesus follower himself. He claimed to have had a vision from God and been converted to see the light of truth. He said he didn’t go to Jerusalem to see the apostles there at once, since he had gone to Arabia and Damascus first. (Gal. 1:17)

But when he showed up in Jerusalem to talk to the church leaders there, there was an immediate clash. He says he stayed with Peter fifteen days, and also met with James, the brother of Jesus. The argument was fierce, all about differences on keeping the Law, especially the rite of male circumcision. 

Paul was converting non Jews in the lands north of Judea, and not requiring any of them to submit to having their foreskin cut off. I suspect he knew that would make evangelizing and converting men much more difficult.

I’m sure James and Peter brought out all the Traditionalist arguments. The Holy scriptures says,”Every man and child among you shall be circumcised.” (Gen. 17:10)

Genesis doesn’t allow any exceptions. Anyone born in a Jewish house, even the slaves, must be circumcised. (Gen. 17:12,13)

I’m sure James reiterated, “This wasn’t just a short time thing. God says this shall be a covenant in your flesh for an Everlasting Covenant.” (Gen. 17:13)

Age was not an excuse, either. The Holy Book says Abraham circumcised his son Ishmael and all the men in the house including himself. It says Abraham was ninety nine years old when he was circumcised. (Gen. 17:24)

“God is the same now and forever, unchangeable.”

“Paul, you are not being true to God’s Holy Scriptures.”

I imagine Paul tried all the Progressive arguments he could bring up.

“I had a vision and God spoke to me! He told me that we are no longer under The Law, since Jesus died to release us from the bondage of the law.”

“That old covenant no longer is in effect. We have a New Covenant.”

“We aren’t saved by circumcision or keeping kosher or observing the Sabbath. No man is justified by the Law in the sight of God. The Just shall live by faith!” (Gal. 3:11)

“That’s just not Biblical,” I’m sure James retorted. “Every man cannot make up his own rules. If every man decides for himself what is right, the result would be anarchy!” Judges (21:24)

“I preach the law of Love,” says Paul. “If everyone has love in their heart, then the law is fulfilled.” (Romans 13:8)

Paul repeated, “Love is the  fulfilling of the law!” (Romans 13:10)

Paul said, “In Jesus Christ neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision; but faith which worketh by love.” (Gal. 5:6)

After many hours of argument, I’m sure, they came to a “One Church” agreement. Paul failed to convince James, Peter and Andrew of his beliefs, and they could not change Paul’s. So they agreed to extend the hand of fellowship to Paul and Barnabas, and the leaders of the Jerusalem church would continue to preach in Judea, and Paul would take the message to the non Jews in Asia Minor and Greece. (Gal. 2:9)

Evidently there were holdouts among the brethren in Jerusalem, because Paul relates that when he came to visit fourteen years later, he brought a Greek convert, (Titus) who was uncircumcised, and they were spied on by some of the brethren who seemed intent on forcing Titus to be circumcised. (Gal. 2:1-4)

The church continued on for years with two beliefs on the message of Jesus to the world: The Traditionalist view that they should be more faithful in keeping the Jewish religion and Law, and the Progressive view that Jesus came to preach love and compassion and to save us from the condemnation of the Law by his redemptive death on the cross.

Of course, now we know who won. But when Paul died, he probably thought he had lost. He had expected Jesus to come back in his lifetime. (1 Thess. 4:16,17)

 He was martyred in Rome in the middle Sixties by Nero, the Roman emperor. The church of James and the apostles in Jerusalem was still dominant. 

In 70 CE Jerusalem was attacked and destroyed by the Roman general Titus and all Jews found in the city were massacred, including any Jewish followers of Jesus. The Romans wouldn’t have known the difference, and they wouldn’t have cared anyway.

However there is archeological evidence that some of the Jewish Christians escaped east to Arabia and settled there. Centuries later a religion arose in Arabia which believed in Abraham and the covenant given to his descendants, and who still require circumcision, kosher (halal) foods, and a belief in just one God. They consider Jesus (Isa) second among all the prophets, with just Mohammed as the final prophet.

Paul’s writings were copied, distributed, and read aloud in his many churches in Asia Minor. His churches not only survived, but thrived, and the beliefs of the modern Christian church on Jesus’ redemptive sacrifice on the cross, grace, faith and love reflect Paul’s Progressive influence on the church.  

Paul’s writings became the first books in the canon, written even before the Gospels. Almost half of all the books in the New Testament are reputed to have been written by Paul.

The present controversy in the United Methodist Church is following an old and predictable path. The Traditionalists don’t want any change in the old ways, and they base their views on the ancient scriptures being inviolate.

The Progressives see injustice in the old ways, and see ways to offer more love and acceptance to those who have been harmed by past bigotry. God’s love in their heart means more to them than words written thousands of years ago for a different world.

If the past is an indicator, the Progressives will eventually prevail. They usually do. Otherwise, we would still have slavery, (the Biblical default).

Hey, could I get some more popcorn over here?  

  

End of a Marriage

 

Donald Rogers

36m  · 

Shared with Public

I have been reminiscing back to when our family broke up. Spurred of course, by my brothers writings on the subject. I may have more trouble remembering, because I was old enough to understand what was happening, and I have spent many years trying to forget the whole thing. Sometimes my memories turn out to be stories my mind made up to cushion the shock and fear of the real events.

I’ll just recount my memories as I think of them, and my brothers may feel free to retell it the way they remember it.

The first breakup was not as sudden as some stories I’ve heard. Our Dad did not just disappear one day. There was a progression of signs that something was not right with the marriage.

Dad had been coming home late, with the old tale of staying to work late. He also was giving Bible studies to a young woman named Beatrice Wileman. She had two children, George and Philip, and they were good friends, since we all went to the same small Adventist school.

He owned a slide projector with a rotary vertical disc which fed the slides in one at a time on the top. When the disc was turned half a turn, the old slide was removed and the new slide was inserted in the top. Then the disc was rotated again to show the next slide. He had several boxes of slides with the Seventh-day Adventist beliefs presented as lessons.

Some of these details may not fit in the flow of the story, but they are related as they show up in my mind.

I was just old enough to understand Mom’s nervousness about the situation. She suspected Vern was not as faithful as she was hoping.

There was some quiet wondering when Vern hired a young lady named Millie as a mechanic in his shop for a short time. I don’t know her qualifications for the job, but she inspired some quiet jealousy with my Mom. Later, after Millie found another job in an office, they became good friends.

There was also the time a young red haired schoolteacher, Inez Hopkins, had car trouble in Fresno. Dad was called to go tow her 1939 Chevrolet back to Merced, but an older woman, Mrs. Cameron went along to chaperone the situation. This was before tow bars were a thing. The car was towed with a chain, and Inez had to steer as she followed Dad’s Kaiser. There was a head-on wreck on the old three lane highway between Fresno and Herndon. Mrs. Cameron had both legs broken, and Inez and Vern had lacerations and contusions. All survived. All cars were totaled.

I think Vern must have a had a bit of a reputation, and was not always trusted, even by the ladies of the church.

Beatrice now and then watched us three Rogers boys when our Mom had some business to take care of. One evening she was taking care of us and all five of us boys were eating dinner at her house when Vernon came in the door. They talked for a short time and then he left. I don’t remember if he was surprised to see us there or not. I’m sure Beatrice was sending a signal to our Mother that Vernon came to her house now.

Of course, when we told Mom she was not happy. I think she cried, and she probably called the Adventist preacher for advice. This is conjecture on my part, since I wasn’t in on the conversation.

At about 1:00 AM some following morning, there was a knock on the door. It was Pastor John Baerg, asking Mom to come with him. At this point my memory is hazy. I can visualize sitting in the back seat of the pastor’s car as they drove across town to a leafy street somewhere north of the Courthouse and south of the railroad tracks. They parked the car behind Dad’s car out front of a house and both went to the door and knocked. There was a lot of loud talking as Dad claimed he had just stopped there, but the pastor wasn’t buying it, and declared that there was grounds for a divorce here.

Pastor Baerg returned us back to our house, prayed with us and then left.

This whole narrative is suspect, and may be memories of the story as Mom related it to me. I don’t remember my brothers in the car, and I can’t imagine Mom taking me along and leaving the other two alone in the house. Maybe they were in the car, too, and my focus was elsewhere. I just don’t remember.

Vern hadn’t come to our house for many days, and he didn’t come back to his family again.

My brothers remember that while we were at Prayer Meeting on Wednesday, Dad left a note for Mom on the table, obviously telling Mom he was leaving.

The next weekend, I think, Vern came by and took us three kids to Vernon’s Drive-in, on the north side of Merced, where he bought us burgers, and was still trying to explain why he was at Bea’s house and not ours. After he dropped us off back at home, he and Beatrice left for Tijuana for a quickie Mexican marriage.

Several well meaning people, church folk and relatives, let me know I was the man of the family now, and to help Mom take care of my. brothers. I was not ready for that kind of responsibility at ten years old, but I tried.

Pastor Baerg’s son came out to our house one day in an old Ford, I think, and let me drive his car around the block of McHenry, Mission, and Gerard Avenue. I still wasn’t tall enough to see the road ahead, and I think I may have had a pillow under me. That was my first attempt at driving a car, but I caught on pretty quickly.

A few years later, long before I was old enough for a license, I woke up to moans from the hallway one night. I found Mom lying in a pool of blood and going in and out of consciousness. Not knowing what else to do, I woke the other brothers up and told them to get in the car. I picked up Mom and put her in the car and drove to the hospital ER. I ran inside and told them my Mom was bleeding and needed help. They rushed out, got her into a wheelchair and took her in for treatment.

I don’t remember being asked questions, so maybe Mom came to long enough to give them the name of her mother. Soon Grandma and Uncle Roy showed up to help.

I can’t for the life of me remember whether they let me drive the Buick back home myself, or gave me a ride and found another driver. Uncle Roy told me I did good, which was the first compliment I remember from him. He had always been the grouchy old guy who chased us out of his shop when we ventured in.

I was so young and naive I thought Mom had a bad nosebleed. It was years before I found out the truth. I still don’t know what kind of “female” trouble she had.

Raking up these old memories brings up a lot of pain. I understand why so many old men get sentimental and cry a lot. The tears just well up and won’t be stopped. I’ve got to stop writing for now.

Don Rogers 1/11/23

Teaching and Learning

 My brother John has been on a writing kick recently, and I have enjoyed reading about his exploits and adventures, some of which I remember, and some of which occurred when I was overseas in the Army.

One posting in particular caught my attention, because it concerned the problems he had in high school with various teachers and classes.

It is obvious to me that there is a strain of similarities in the way our brains are wired through the generations. His experiences in school mirror mine almost exactly. And he told a story of our mother way back in the twenties, and her problem with at least one teacher.

Before I go any farther, let me assure all my close friends and relatives that I don’t put down all teachers. I believe they are underpaid, under appreciated, and overworked. The criticisms I bring up here refer only to the particular persons involved, and the observations I give are for edification only.

John told me the story of my mother and a teacher in Merced named Mrs. Horne, when she was in grade school. The class was assigned to draw a map of some area (I don’t know where) and my mother went home and using the skills her mother taught her, (her mother had been a school teacher earlier) carefully drew up the map. It had all the colors identifying the roads, rivers and buildings, and she was rightly proud of the map.

When she turned the map in to Mrs. Horne, she was accused of plagiarism, copying or tracing from some other map. She got an “F” for the paper. My mother bitterly remembered the name of that teacher thirty years later!

I got mostly good grades through my elementary school years, and most of that was due to the small Seventh-day Adventist school I attended. There were never more than four or five in any grade, and so there was lots of time for the teacher to learn about the students, as well as the students to learn the lessons.

My teachers were able to help me individually when I needed it, and very seldom was homework required, as there were several grades in each room, allowing all extra work to be done while the teacher was busy with another class. There was seldom any homework, and that was how I liked it.

I first ran into trouble when I went to Lodi Academy in the junior year of high school. Now there were twenty or more students per class, and there was no time to do extra work, since the next hour was taken up by the next class. I was not inclined to spend my evenings doing exercises on subjects I had already learned that morning, and I had better things to do with my time, I figured.

If the teacher graded heavy on tests, I got “A”s. If homework was required, I tended to get “C”s. Mr. Jackson, who taught me classes on Algebra 1 & 2, and Plane and Solid Geometry, graded 100% on classwork and tests, so consequently I made straight “A”s in his classes.

In my senior year I needed some core classes to get me graduated with enough credits to start an Engineering major in College. I signed up for Physics, which was a class I needed. On the first day of class, Mr. Mayer, an older, soft spoken gentleman, explained that he graded 1/3 on classwork, 1/3 on tests, and 1/3 on homework. I knew my best chance would be 66 2/3%, which would be flunking.

I went from that class straight to the Registrar’s Office and requested to change from that class to another class taught by Mr. Jackson, Trigonometry and Analytical Geometry. I loved that class and that teacher and got straight “A”s.

I may be painting the term “homework” with too broad a brush. Mr. Jackson assigned homework, but it was never just repeating the classwork, and it was never graded.. It was usually a challenge, as “For tomorrow, read the next chapter, and see if you can figure out what it’s about. We’ll discuss it in the morning.” I was always ready for a challenge!

Once, when someone else in the class asked what good Trigonometry was for, Mr. Jackson showed up the next day with a transit, a survey chain, and some stakes. He sent us out on the school grounds to find the distance between the front doors on the girl’s dorm and the boy’s dorm. Since the admin building was in between, we had to drive a stake out by the flagpole, measure from there to the doors in question, and triangulate using the trig functions to get the answer. We all compared notes and figures and we all learned something I still remember from that day.

I’m pretty sure that John and I got our brains wired at the same place. He is sure his problem is ADHD. I have always thought that my problem might be Asperger’s syndrome. My son Wesley had all the same problems in school. As John says, we’re all on “the spectrum” somewhere.

Here is a quote from a recent post of John’s:

 I know I've mentioned before that I hated the whole idea of homework. I didn't like school at all. It was bad enough that I was required to spend my days where I didn't want to be, doing things I didn't want to have to do. The idea that I was supposed to go home and ruin my evenings, too, was out of bounds as far as I was concerned. So I never did homework in high school.

  

That was me all over!

During my senior year, a group from California State Education came to Lodi Academy and tested all of us in the school. If I remember, it was called the National Merit Scholarship test. Out of around 300 students in that school, I topped them all. I was immediately summoned to the dean’s office to explain why my grades were so low. I truthfully told them if they tested my knowledge, I would have gotten straight “A”s, but I didn’t do any homework. They berated me for awhile, but I was kind of used to that.

I graduated with enough credits to pass, including a correspondence class in U.S. History, if I remember correctly.

My son Wesley had all the same problems in school, getting low grades in class but passing the annual Basic Skills Tests several grades ahead of his place in school. Some said he was bored to death and should have been advanced a grade. In Winnemucca, they held him back a year.

His mother Carolyn and I got an appointment in San Francisco with a Pediatric Neuropsychologist and took Wes for testing. After nearly a day of various tests, the doctor told us, “There is nothing wrong with your son. If he was in Marin County Schools, he would be in AP classes.”

I went back to Winnemucca and relayed the findings, and all I did was piss the school administration off. Who was I, a lowly mechanic, to tell them such a thing?

After another bad year of low grades and confrontation with the school, the next summer we found a school in Ojai, California, that had special summer classes for kids who test high and grade low. We dug deep into our finances and signed Wes up for a month. 

On our way there we all stopped at the hanger in Mojave where the Voyager, the first airplane to circle the earth without refueling had just landed, before being taken to the Smithsonian.

I think he may have been a little overwhelmed by the other students, who were several levels above a country boy from Nevada. He found himself in school with Kasey Kasem’s daughters, among others. He soon made friends with another boy, and went to visit his “house” in Hollywood, I think, which Wes described as a mansion.

Wes impressed them when he said he lived on thirty acres in Nevada. Nobody in Hollywood lives on thirty acres!

When we went back to pick Wes up at the end of the session, we talked for several hours with the teachers at that school. They were amazed that Wes was having any trouble in school. He was tops in the computer class, wrote well, and was among the top students in every class. They also told us that his problem was with the school in Winnemucca.

I asked if they could talk to the people in Winnemucca and tell them what they just told me. I explained that the school had no regard for anything I said, because I was merely a mechanic, and I had tried before.

They promised to call and talk to them, and we left for home in Nevada.

The attitude in the school system seemed to improve the next year, until Wes had to have emergency surgery to correct some congenital defects in one kidney and the ureter on one side. We kept his schoolwork assignments, and after a month off, when he went back to school and turned in the assignments, the teacher said they could not grade all those papers, and he would have to start the year over. 

I requested a meeting with the school board, and got on the agenda for the next meeting. When it was my turn, I got up and told them they had failed my son once, but they were not going to have another chance to fail him again. I presented them with the legal paperwork to withdraw him and home school him through American School Correspondence courses.

Although it was sometimes boring, he could do the work in the morning and have the afternoon for himself. The school got to test him twice a year, and of course, he aced their tests every time.

Wes was offered the chance to take the GED test at JOIN (Job Opportunities In Nevada) and apply for a scholarship. After a few wasted minutes starting the Pre GED test, they looked over his shoulder, took that test away, and gave him the GED test. He easily passed it and was offered a 100% scholarship toward an Associate of Science degree at Elko Community College with RN certification. 

I guess the fundamental question is what is school for? Is it to impart knowledge and teach thinking skills? Or is it to teach a kid to follow orders, jump through the hoops when told, and work all day in a factory, learning to start when the whistle blows or the bell rings. Some of us never got regimented that good.

Different people learn in different ways, and if there are too many students in a class, some are not going to learn well.

I had a good friend who was an excellent motorcycle mechanic. But he only learned through hearing. When he had a problem, he would hand the book to me and have me read it to him. When I finished, he would thank me and tell me he understood it now. I am opposite. You can tell me all day, and I won’t remember much. As my mother used to say, “In one ear and out the other!” But if I read it, I can remember the page of instructions years later.

Some people I know only learn well by hands on practice. There needs to be a way to teach each person in the best way for that person. That could be impractical in our mechanized world.

This is getting to look like a book. 

Kudos to all the caring, skilled teachers out there. If I was king of the country, I’d double your pay and halve your class size. I still have great memories of wonderful teachers from years ago.