Articles Pertaining To Herbert W. Armstrong, Garner Ted Armstrong and The Worldwide Church of God
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Two Campus Encounters
By Retired Prof
The most important lesson Christianity offers for our
daily guidance is that we should treat other people the way we ourselves
hope to be treated. Armstrongism smothers that message under a pile of
petty rules about what people should eat, when and how they should
observe holy days, and how they should behave toward members above and
below them in the hierarchy.
The rules about hierarchy are the most damaging. Herbert W. Armstrong
repeatedly insisted that democratic principles, which he derided as
“government from the bottom up,” are all wrong. “Government,” he would
shout, “is from the TOP DOWN!” According to this principle, the duty of
church members is to submit to authority. Just as surely, the duty of
ministers is to wield it. A name Armstrong never used for church
governance, but which nevertheless applies to his style of it, is
tyranny. By demanding that people treat others strictly according to
their rank instead of their shared humanity, tyranny tramples all over
the Golden Rule.
Most of what, as a child, I heard Armstrong say on The World Tomorrow
has either faded from memory or never made it there in the first
place, but I do remember how he contrasted the behavior of two groups of
diners in a German restaurant after the war. The Americans tried to
interact with the waiters (or waitresses, I forget which) and treated
them politely, saying “Bitte” and “Danke schoen.” The British pretended
they were invisible except when barking orders and shouting rebukes at
them. Armstrong declared that the British got better service. Only dimly
do I recall what his main point was. Probably he meant that you have to
get stern with people you have just conquered, especially if they happen
to be Germans. However, I clearly remember the satisfaction in his
voice, and that tipped his hand: he didn’t just recommend ordering
people around, he gloried in it.
In some public presentation or another during my school year at
Ambassador College, Garner Ted Armstrong explained how Herbert corrected
him for missteps in doing the broadcast. For example, he told us that in
one series of programs he had repeatedly used more statistics than
listeners could absorb. His father said nothing about the problem at
first; he waited till listenership fell off a few points and letters of
complaint came in. Then Herbert called Garner Ted on the carpet and went
on a long and abusive tirade. One thing he yelled, as I recall the son
telling it, was “Are you trying to DESTROY the work of God?” Garner Ted
presented the story admiringly, as an example to follow, but I couldn’t
help thinking it showed bad management style.
I
I never personally saw Herbert blow up but once; on that
occasion he displayed a zest for chewing people out that bordered on
hysteria.
For part of my work-study duty, I worked on the construction crew. On
one project, we were restoring a reflecting pool on the grounds of one
of the old mansions Ambassador had acquired. For us laborers with little
appreciation for the intricacies of restoration, it was merely a hard,
dirty job with shovels and wheelbarrows. Our foreman, though, found it
fascinating. He set up a surveyor’s transit and eagerly checked our
progress. For sealing cracks he experimented with a newly introduced
product called epoxy and grinned in satisfaction when it worked. He was
a stern and distant boss, but I didn’t hold that against him because it
was clear that the church expected him to be. Stern or not, he did treat
us fairly. I wish I could remember his name, because he deserves credit.
One day Herbert came out to inspect the project. He brought four or five
guys in suits. Since I didn’t recognize them, they might have been men
from “outside” that he wanted to impress. He took one look at our work
and started yelling. THIS wasn’t what he had in mind! He didn’t want
that shabby old pool RESTORED! He wanted a NEW one! Somebody should get
some heavy equipment in here, tear everything out, and START OVER! It
took him a couple of minutes to reach his oratorical peak, wind down,
and stalk off. The suits followed, looking abashed.
Armstrong hurt my feelings a little even though I held no stake in the
project other than grunt work. Our foreman, who had invested so much of
himself in it, kept a stoic expression. Yet I knew he must have been
crushed and humiliated, and I grieved for him. I wondered why in the
world someone claiming to be the apostle of a loving god couldn’t manage
the decency to make a private appointment with the foreman. There he
could have explained with regret and sympathy that the work, fine as it
might be, was not what he had in mind. It was cruel to humiliate the
poor guy in front of both his crew and a gaggle of outsiders. My
coworkers must have felt bad for him too, but we all kept our faces as
stony as his, and we did nothing to console or support him. After all,
how can underlings presume to offer consolation or support to their
superiors? The strict hierarchy robbed us of our common humanity.
It also rendered us inert in the face of abuse. None of us expressed
disapproval of Armstrong’s behavior. None of us uttered the name for a
person who acts the way he had just done, because in our unwritten
church thesaurus that word was not counted among the synonyms for
apostle. On every other job I’ve held—as farm hand, mill hand,
service station attendant, construction worker, short order cook,
gravedigger, office flunky, dialect fieldworker, and college teacher—the
accepted term is asshole.
II
Well, it is encouraging to report that some people can
resist pressure to act tyrannical even when standing on their particular
rung in a hierarchy. One such was Lynn Torrance, who taught my freshman
English class at Ambassador.
One day, a few class members got into a discussion about some minor
point of usage. I can’t remember what it was; all I recall is that both
options sounded fine and the slight difference between them would have
very little effect on either clarity or grace. I sat there scratching
aimless doodles in my notebook, waiting for one side or the other to
give in or drop the subject. Neither side did; the discussion dragged
on.
Torrance had confidence in me. Partway through the school year he had
come to trust my knowledge of grammar and punctuation enough to hire me
as his grading assistant. When he needed some bibliography work done, he
gave me the keys to his car and sent me downtown to the public library.
It’s not surprising that he assumed I could offer a worthwhile insight
to this discussion. He asked, “August, what do you think?”
I looked up from my doodling and said, “I think we fail to recognize the
overwhelming insignificance of this question.”
There must be a way to utter that line so it sounds lighthearted and
amusing, but I didn’t manage to do it that way. My boredom and
irritation showed through, so the remark just sounded snotty. Nobody—not
even a person “of the world,” much less a believer in church
hierarchy—could have blamed Torrance if he had pinned my ears back. He
did not.
Without either rancor or defensiveness, he explained that he thought the
discussion was worthwhile because he was trying to teach us to become
careful stylists. He wanted us to understand that even the smallest
decisions about sentence structure, word choice, and punctuation are
worth considering. When we revise, they are worth reconsidering.
That lesson was a good one. I profited from it. But I profited even more
from the lesson Torrance taught by example to this teacher-to-be: when
confronted with a young smartass, it is generally worthwhile to exercise
a little forbearance. The Golden Rule is not just the law, it’s a good
idea. Best to deflect barbs and redirect them toward a lesson that will
benefit the whole group. In my own dealings with students, I usually
managed to follow Lynn Torrance’s example. On those occasions when I
fell instead into the “blow up and humiliate the offender” behavior
displayed by Herbert W. Armstrong, I nearly always regretted it.
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