John Updike: Words, Words

The craggy coast of Massachusetts harbors John Updike and symbolizes both his physiognomy and his fiction. He and his characters seem all edges and angles of stone, defying easy grasp.

When Updike writes with studied seriousness, as he does in A Month of Sundays, the reader should expect satire. In his seventh novel, one of his best, he thoroughly satirizes wordy, modern Protestant theology through his brilliant twist of a stock plot—adulterous minister copulating his way through his congregation. (Chaucer, too, used such a plot and protagonist.)

Newsweek’s reviewer called A Month of Sundays Updike’s “most overtly Christian novel.” And it is, though the lusty language may offend or sidetrack some readers. But then that doesn’t bother Updike. He revels in puzzling readers.

The novel answers questions from other novels. Why is the minister in Rabbit Run ineffective and self-serving when he tries to convince Harry Angstrom to return to his wife? And in Couples, why does the only person who regularly attends church, Piet Hanema, also regularly pursue wife after wife in his Massachusetts coastal town? Somehow the theology of our century—a theology that’s been simplified and popularized—has twisted the biblical concept of natural fecundity to mean promiscuity. The words are the same, but meanings have changed.

Tom Marshfield, Updike’s latest protagonist, has been sent by his bishop for a month of rest at an omega-shaped rest home. To work out his problems Marshfield must keep a diary while there. The minister is skeptical about the healing power of such an exercise: “I suffer from nothing less virulent than the human condition, and so would preach it,” he tells us. Of course, the ironic thing is that the human condition is terminal, both spiritually and physically—and Updike knows it.

Updike plunges the reader into a myriad of quasi-psychological jargon and methodology. The rules of the rest home, set by bishops and church boards, reflect this: “No serious discussions, doctrinal or intrapersonal. No reading except escapist.… The Bible above all is banned. No religion, no visitors, no letters in or out.” All traditional, perhaps orthodox, sources of help for emotional and spiritual healing, banned. But the bar opens at noon.

Marshfield is outwardly preoccupied with sex, but the real source of his trouble lies beneath that. He is obsessed with words, as though language were the thing itself rather than a representation or image of reality. Puns, Latin phrases, and religious-sounding sentences recur in Marshfield’s diary. The fact that Updike uses the vehicle of a diary points to the conclusion that the theme is the idolatry of words.

The nearly defrocked minister exists in an era and in the atmosphere of wordy analysis. His whole life as minister has been word-oriented (had it been Word-oriented his problems would have been fewer). In his church Marshfield “plump[ed] for the word as against pretty liturgy,” though “words” would have been the more accurate word. Although he complains of writing for hours each day, he soon admits that the task is more enjoyable than he had anticipated. Just as Marshfield finds it difficult to wean himself from sex, so it is with words. We learn this in his obsession to preach—not so that others may hear and learn, since he has no congregation, but because he must say (or write, in this case) the words:

Today is Sunday. Though they try to hide this from us, I can count; I came here on a Monday flight, and this is my sixth morning. I must preach. But without a Bible, without a copious and insipid encyclopedia of sermon aids and Aramaic etymologies … [Knopf, 1975, p. 41].

The things he misses are word-helps. He preaches on the words, “Neither do I condemn thee.” The sermon is not only a masterful exercise in word-twisting but a fine example of what modern so-called biblical criticism can do if challenged. He champions adultery, and twists Jesus into supporting that position.

In each of the sermons he writes, he plays the same game of words pitted against reason. And that is Marshfield’s whole approach to Christianity, influenced, he says, by Barth. “No man,” he explains, “unless it was Jesus, believes. We can only profess to believe.” All that is real, then, is the words. There is nothing behind them. Only words give something or someone existence. Ms. Prynne, the manager of the rest home, whom Marshfield tries to seduce, holds no reality for him until she writes in his diary: “You spoke. You exist.” But later he writes:

Nothing. Not a word. You read me only on dull Sundays. You are repelled by my advances. You have ceased to exist. I have wasted an hour running my poor lab rat of a mind through the mazes of these alternatives, and poking though the old pages looking for words from you I might have missed. Nothing. Not a word [p. 219].

Ironically, what Marshfield craves is not sex but language. When Ms. Prynne finally succumbs to him, no words are spoken: “You seemed lost in thought, only your hand speaking to me.…” After all those words, he remains a stranger, both to himself and to others.

Updike writes of the idolatry of words and how we misuse them. We, like Marshfield, sometimes expect too much of words. Or perhaps we refuse to allow them their proper function. They should lead, not bind, and are the means to an end, not the end itself. A Month of Sundays with biting wit effectively shows us our confusion.

CHERYL FORBES

No More Than Roast Beef

Jubilee, Volume One, Number One, is a sixty-eight-page oversized adult Christian comic book. It immediately raises several questions in the mind of a perspicacious reviewer. Why is Cheryl Forbes so cruelly caricatured on page nine? Why aren’t any of my cartoons included? Why does this thing cost $2.95 plus postage?

Most of the cartoons are professional in their execution. Some are overtly Christian. A few are unsatisfactorily obvious. Others are just puzzling. Basil Wolverton’s six pages of caricatured freaks are hardly a part of the “visual feast” promised on the contents page, nor do they seem to serve an edifying purpose.

The styles range from nineteenth century Art Nouveau to last month’s Mad. Some of the best selections are reprints of old work. Heinrich Kley’s masterful pen drawings from the early 1900s are both gratifying in their technical accomplishment and grotesque in their editorial content.

All in all it’s a strange volume that will probably appeal mostly to the twenty to thirty age bracket. The price seems somewhat high, but then it’s no more than you’d pay for a roast beef sandwich at a good restaurant. And what’s three bucks between friends. Besides, editor Craig Yoe assures us it took lots of hours and bucks to put this thing together. Why would he lie to us, total strangers?

So go ahead and send your $2.95 plus 30 cents postage to Jubilee, 174 Portage Drive, Akron, Ohio 44303. It’ll give the fellows encouragement and help them do better next time.

JOHN V. LAWING, JR.

John V. Lawing, Jr. is features editor at the “National Courier,” Plainfield, New Jersey.

Hard by Ulrich Zwingli’s Grossmünster Church, in Zurich, Switzerland, in the house of one Felix Manz, there gathered one January night in 1525 a small but determined group of defeated men. Bested by Zwingli in a disputation before the town council, Conrad Grebel and about a dozen of his radical colleagues assembled to assess their future. They could go along with the snail’s pace, as they perceived it, of Zwinglian half-hearted reform, or they could strike out on their own, against the council’s command, for a church restored to its primitive integrity. Gradual reformation or radical restitution: this was the question.

Grebel resolved the issue by baptizing, with Manz’s household water, an erstwhile Catholic priest, George Blaurock, who then baptized all the rest. This ceremony symbolized a decisive break with the gradual reformers as well as with the Catholic Church. The sign of that rupture was chosen: adult baptism, which in the view of others was rebaptism, since they had been baptized as infants. Hence they were branded Anabaptists, from the Greek ana-, again, and baptizein.

The Grebel-Blaurock group formed what came to be called the Swiss Brethren. Other groupings also arose under the sign of rebaptism. Among those still flourishing today are the Hutterites, the Mennonites, and a major subdivision of the latter, the Amish. Whether any contemporary Baptist communion can trace its origins to the house of Felix Manz is a matter of scholarly dispute. Also in question is how far the event occurring in the shadow of Grossmiinster that January night simply echoed the “enthusiasm,” as Ronald Knox calls it in a book by that name, characteristic of Montanism, Donatism, and other early heresies.

A Challenge …

Commemorating historical events is more than reminiscence. It is also a recognition of the current significance of things past. One asks, then: What might our world owe to Anabaptism that those both inside and outside its tradition should commemorate?

Anabaptism poses both a challenge and a warning. History is open to varying interpretations, and not all observers perceive in it the same values—or even the same events. Celebration, then, of this Anabaptist anniversary may well fasten upon a number of themes. At least two are likely to be prominent among them, however. They clearly emerge from George Williams’s already classic study, The Radical Reformation. Etched in the early history of Anabaptism are (1) consequence and (2) courage.

For the Anabaptist, the Christian faith has practical consequences. Faith without temporal and practical implications is not true faith. Faith, for the Anabaptist, is a state of being and of behavior. It requires a life built up out of acts implicit in that faith, as made explicit in the Word and by the Holy Spirit. Whether or not each person’s confession was continually supported by his life became the concern of the brotherhood; the “ban” was mandatory for those whose good confession was not persistently validated in good works.

Hear Peter Ridemann as he draws together the strands of a Confession of Faith, produced in prison in 1540, first published in 1545, and still an accurate statement of what Anabaptists believe:

We teach further, that Christ came into the world to make sinners blessed … and that man through faith might be planted and grafted in Christ. This, however, taketh place as follows: as soon as the man heareth the gospel of Christ and believeth the same from his heart, he is sealed with the Holy Spirit.… This Spirit of Christ which is promised and given to all believers maketh them free from the law or power of sin, and planteth them into Christ, maketh them of his mind, yea, of his character and nature, so that they become one plant and one organism together with him: he the root or stem, we the branches.…

Now, because Christ is the root and the vine and we are grafted into him through faith, even as the sap riseth from the root and maketh the branches fruitful, even so the Spirit of Christ riseth from the root, Christ, into the branches or twigs to make them all fruitful. Hence the twigs are of the same character as the root, and bear corresponding fruit.… Now since Christ is a good tree and vine, naught but what is good can or may grow, flourish and be fruitful in him.

Thus doth man become one with God, and God with him, even as a father with his son, and is gathered and brought into the Church and community of Christ, that he with her might serve and cleave to God in one Spirit, and be the child of the covenant of grace, which is confirmed by Christ [Confession of Faith, Plough, 1970],

Ridemann’s Confession, which occupies some one hundred thirty printed pages in the edition from which I quoted, is, according to Mennonite historian Robert Friedmann, “characteristic not only of the Hutterite type of Anabaptism but of the movement as a whole.” And Ridemann’s drift is clear: rebirth through the Spirit is into a new manhood characterized by good works, done to and for the brethren in the community established by the Lord as his Church—a community in turn fully responsible for the behavior of all its members.

Anabaptism’s anniversary is an ever timely reminder that faith either has practical consequences or is dead.

A consequential faith presumes, as it inspires, courage. For it invites reaction. So it was with Anabaptism, and sixteenth-century reaction was bloody and to the death. Seizing upon the means common to the times, magistrates both Catholic and Reformed pounced upon Anabaptism like beasts of prey. And fully reminiscent of the primitive church restored was the heroism with which Anabaptist men, women, and children stood their ground, bowed their heads, suffered, and died for what they believed.

No need, really, to recount the tortures, expulsions, imprisonments, beheadings, burnings inflicted upon the rebaptized and rebaptizers. Their page flames out as a glorious one in the annals of courage.

Professor Williams summarizes in these words his eight hundred pages of Anabaptist early history:

The great majority of the mighty host of men and women whose lives we have sketched communicate an overwhelming sense of their earnestness, their lonely courage, and their conviction. They were aware of a providential purpose that informed their deeds. The bleakness, squalor, brutality, and frenzy of the vast scene in which they played their parts was relieved for them—as for us, the spectators—by the intense assurance which these people had that within the shadow of their crosses God stood keeping watch above his own. The cumulative effect of their testimony is that Christianity is not child’s play, that to be a Christian is to be commissioned [The Radical Reformation, Westminster, 1962].

In this commemorative year, what can be said about all this? What might an age in full flight to escape even minor discomfort do with the Anabaptist witness of consequence and courage?

Is not “belief” now commended as one key to the penthouse of success? Is not “faith” promoted in lieu of psychiatry, or through it, as the way to a carefree existence? Does not the Christ figure at least on the fringes of positive and possibility thinking—routes to achievement and status? Do not “evangelists” impart freely what has cost them nothing to attain, hawking a “savior” (in Bonhoeffer’s words) like a cheapjack’s wares on street corners?

Voices from out of prisons, heard above the crackle of devouring flames, muffled by lacerated tongues, drowned by weighted sacks in rolling rivers—can such voices be heard, this day, above the commercial din, through the sleek propaganda?

… And A Warning

Persecution has, or finds, occasion. Why were peaceful and peace-loving communal groups sought out for destruction? Was any legitimacy cloaked beneath the unspeakable brutalities that Anabaptists suffered?

Imperial Rome found primitive Christianity inimical to the state. The Sanhedrin found it a threat to true religion. These were the charges once again put forth against the radical restitutionists of the Reformation. Was it once again new wine threatening old wineskins, the spirit shrugging off the strictures of the letter?

In the sixteenth century, men killed and died for doctrinal convictions with an enthusiasm largely confined in our times to Marxists. But is there in the Anabaptist story an issue other than doctrine that might still admonish our more tolerant, and more timid, era?

William Estep denies that the Anabaptists were guilty of heresy: “They accepted,” he says, “the teaching of the Apostles’ Creed, the trinitarian concept of God, the incarnation, the atoning work of Christ, and the authority of Scripture.” Such formal acquiescence in doctrines largely common to new Protestant and old Catholic alike is subject to some qualification. But the issue was not perceived in purely theological terms.

Anabaptism was perceived as a threat to two institutions deemed indispensable to civilization itself: church and state, separately or together. Those who marshalled the forces unleashed against the radicals clearly understood what the Western world has since partially ignored or forgotten. It is fitting that this anniversary year recall for us, too, that lacking even the secular state, human society cannot endure; and that lacking the church, society will not continue to be humane. The best state is that in which Christians are active to provide the Church all the freedom its people can employ.

The Anabaptist threat to the state was doublepronged: (1) forbidding participation by believers in the political process, and (2) ruling out the use of force, even in suppression of violence.

On the first, Ridemann says bluntly in his Confession: “Thus, a ruler can be no Christian, or no Christian can be a ruler.” Politics is off-limits to the faithful: it is left in the hands of the demonic and ungodly. Granting that political power can be “a servant of God for the punishment of evildoers,” the Anabaptist paid his levies—except those for military use. But participate in office, or appear at the polling booth, or take the oath, he would not.

In striking contrast, Calvin’s appreciation of civil government is salutary still: “Its function among men is no less than that of bread, water, sun, and air; indeed, its place of honor is far more excellent.” As to Christian participation in politics, Calvin urges: “Accordingly, no one ought to doubt that civil authority is a calling, not only holy and lawful before God, but also the most sacred and by far the most honorable of all callings in the whole life of mortal men.”

The issue is evident. And, as Solzhenitsyn is reminding the world, it is urgent. Politics is survival.

As to the second prong of the Anabaptist threat to the state, its consistent pacifism: surely all can now see that rejection of the awful use of force by the political power simply exposes a people to that illegitimate exercise of power called violence. It is a practical lesson that the Anabaptist himself experienced almost in vain.

It is imperative for the modern world to perceive that the alternative to violence is not pacifism but the legitimate exercise of force. Until, for example, terrorism becomes a capital offense, terrorists will force the release of captured comrades by the threat of new violence—with social order the ultimate victim.

We can revere the awesome heroism of the Anabaptists without beclouding the distressing reality it reflects: that he who refuses to support and participate in the lawful exercise of force becomes complicit in the violence thus liberated. And if he then becomes the victim of such violence, his complicity extends to a double violation of divine law: homicide done by the violent, and suicide willed upon himself. The lawful use of force, in war, as well as in other ways, is the only alternative a society has to submersion in violence. That this is not always the fate of the pacifist, and that pacifist communities survive to this day, is but testimony to the value of the legitimate exercise of force by the state.

The Anabaptists were apprehended as seditious. At issue then, and now, is always the continuation of that order essential to social survival. To this, as I say, Solzhenitsyn bears compelling witness.

For the Anabaptists the issue in regard to the Church was its inviolable dependence upon the integrity of the Scriptures. Protestantism was engaged in replacing the objective authority of an infallible church with the objective authority of an infallible Bible. Anabaptism was perceived to be hindering this process: it substituted the subjective authority of the Spirit-illumined interpreter for the objective authority of an infallible Word.

Calvin delineated the tension as early as his exchange with Cardinal Sadoleto in 1539:

We are assailed by two sects, which seem to differ most widely from each other. For what similitude is there in appearance between the Pope and the Anabaptists? And yet, that you may see that Satan never transforms himself so cunningly as not in some measure to betray himself, the principal weapon with which they both assail us is the same. For when they boast extravagantly of the Spirit, the tendency certainly is to sink and bury the Word of God, that they make room for their own falsehoods.

Ridemann identifies, as we have heard, the believer with Christ through the agency of the Spirit. It is but a step from this identification—a step that the Anabaptist was prone to take—to the claim that Christ’s or the Spirit’s knowledge and discernment are at the believer’s beck and call.

“We believe and consider ourselves under the authority of the Law,” said the Anabaptist disputants at Bern in 1538, “in so far as it does not contradict the new law, which is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We believe and consider ourselves under the authority of the prophets in so far as they proclaim Christ.” The Law and the prophets (in short, the Old Testament) were authoritative “in so far as” they fit into the subjective grid of the interpreter. The New Testament, in practice, suffered similar control or emendation.

Assuming that he possessed the mind of Christ or was guided by the immediate illumination of the Spirit, the Anabaptist threw all things (Calvin believed) into “confusion.” He sought to live, and to judge, from the vantage point of heaven, from the perspective of the Last Day—what may now be called living “eschatologically.” From this privileged observatory, the Anabaptist claimed to discriminate unerringly the sheep from the goats. His civil posture was irenic, but his language was martial, his attitude authoritarian, and his assurance of nearomniscience immutable. He was, moreover, often millenarian—as much perhaps in anticipation of seeing his judgments vindicated upon the disbelieving as in entering, himself, the airy realm of the blessed.

Calvin’s corrective is as pertinent today as it was over four centuries ago: “It is no less unreasonable to boast of the Spirit without the Word than it would be absurd to bring forward the Word itself without the Spirit.” Not only the survival but also the social impact of the Church—as Calvinism has abundantly shown through the centuries—resides in the preservation of the integrity and authority of the Scriptures over all subjective illumination.

Ronald Knox is no doubt correct in concluding that the chief historical importance of Anabaptism lies “in the recoil of official Protestantism from the very notion of enthusiasm. The idea of a prophetic ministry, native to the Protestant genius, disappears everywhere, and ordained ministries spring up to replace it, no less institutional in character than is the Catholic priesthood” (Enthusiasm, Clarendon, 1950).

Unlike the Catholics, however, the Reformed identified the Church, not with its ministry but with the Bible soundly exposited and applied to believer and world alike. If the four-hundred-fiftieth anniversary of Anabaptism causes renewed reflection upon this conception of the Church, we can all enthusiastically celebrate it together.

Freedom and order: how shall they be balanced? This is the central problem of political science. It may take several forms. How do we balance the demands of law and the need of liberty? the freedom of the individual and the need for order and cohesion in society? How do we uphold the power of the magistrate to enforce the law and at the same time protect the citizens from the abuse of that power?

Every theory and form of government is an answer to that central problem. The American answer goes back to the Puritans of Massachusetts Bay, who struggled with it both in theory and in practice. The answer they gave to the problem of law and liberty, freedom and order, was a unique one. It grew out of their theology and theological world view, and they applied it in their society in very practical ways.

The struggle between what Oscar Handlin has called the “demands of authority and the permissiveness of freedom” began early in Massachusetts Bay. John Winthrop reminded the emigrants on board the Arbella even before they got to America that the interests of the colony would have to be paramount:

The work we have in hand is by mutual consent with a special overruling Providence, with a more than ordinary mandate from the churches of Christ to seek out a place to live and associate under a due form of government both civil and ecclesiastical. In such cases as this the care of the public must hold sway over all private interests. To this not only conscience but mere civil policy binds us, for it is a true rule that private estates cannot exist to the detriment of the public [“A Mode of Christian Charity,” The Annals of America, Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1968, I 113].

The charter of the Massachusetts Bay Company provided for a governor and assistants to be elected by the company “freemen,” or stockholders; but when the Puritans got to America, they began to modify this system of government. First they granted freemanship not just to shareholders in the company but also to all men who were members of some church within the colony. Next, they allowed the freemen to have representatives, or deputies, who could confer with the governor and his assistants on matters of taxation. They also allowed these deputies (rather than the assistants) to elect the governor and deputy governor.

Then in 1634 the deputies demanded legislative power, basing their claim on the wording rather than the meaning of the original charter. The dispute between the deputies and the assistants over legislative power went back to a kind of running debate between John Winthrop and Thomas Dudley over what we might call “substantive justice.” Winthrop believed that in its early years a colony should be ruled with leniency and liberality. Justice should be done, but governors should be more informal and discretionary than formal and inflexible, as Dudley insisted.

But the deputies feared Winthrop’s concept of discretionary power, not because he misused it but because it could be misused. Their experiences in England had taught them that. They were now demanding a full body of legislation drawn up by themselves as a protection against a discretionary government that could become arbitrary. To protect their liberties, they wanted a rule of law rather than a rule of man or men.

The result was a change in the government. The freemen would elect deputies to represent them in a legislative body. This body would serve along with the governor and the assistants, who functioned as judges or magistrates. The magistrates were given a veto over the deputies as a check and balance to the deputies’ democratic tendencies. In 1641 a document called the “Body of Liberties” was completed; this gave the people, in the words of Nathaniel Ward, who drew it up, “their proper and lawful liberties.”

But then in 1645 the long-running disagreement flared up again. A disputed election in the town of Hingham came before the magistrates for settlement. Winthrop, then deputy governor but acting as a magistrate (judge), ordered the faction led by the Reverend Peter Hobart to appear at court. When they refused, he committed them for contempt. The Hobart faction then petitioned the deputies to consider Winthrop’s charges against them and their charge that the magistrates had acted without authority in imprisoning them. The case eventually was heard by the magistrates.

Winthrop was acquitted of the charges brought against him by the Hobart faction. After the case was settled, he asked permission to address the court, and his speech on that occasion has been called the classic expression of Puritan political theory. Of authority, he said:

It is yourselves who have called us to this office, and being called by you, we have our authority from God, in way of an ordinance, such as hath the image of God eminently stamped upon it, the contempt and violation whereof hath been vindicated with examples of divine vengeance.

The authority of the magistrate is from God, even though it is the people who decide who the magistrates shall be. Therefore contempt or violation of that authority is a very serious matter, both for the rulers and for the ruled. The ruled are always to remember that the magistrates are “men subject to like passions as you are” and therefore, “when you see infirmities in us, you should reflect upon your own, and that would make you bear the more with us.” The magistrate is responsible to uphold his covenant with his people. As long as he is faithful to that covenant and is of a good, not an evil, will, the people are to bear with him even in his error.

On the matter of liberty, Winthrop called attention to “a great mistake in the country”:

[There is] a two-fold liberty, natural (I mean as our nature is now corrupt) and civil or federal. The first is common to man with beasts and other creatures.… It is liberty to evil as well as to good. This liberty is incompatible and inconsistent with authority and cannot endure the least restraint of the most just authority. The exercise and maintaining this liberty makes men grow more evil and in time to be worse than brute beasts.… This is that great enemy of truth and peace, that wild beast, which all the ordinances of God are bent against, to restrain and subdue it.

The other kind of liberty I call civil or federal, it may also be termed moral in reference to the covenant between God and man, in the moral law, and the political covenants and constitutions among men themselves. This liberty is the proper end and object of authority and cannot subsist without it; and it is a liberty to that only which is good, just, and honest.… This liberty is maintained and exercised in a way of subjection to authority, it is the same kind of liberty wherewith Christ has made us free.…

Even so, Brethren, it will be between you and your magistrates. If you stand for your natural corrupt liberties and will to do what is good in your own eyes you will not endure the least weight of authority, but will murmur and oppose, and be always striving to shake off that yoke; but if you will be satisfied to enjoy the civil and lawful liberties such as Christ allows you, then will you quietly and cheerfully submit unto that authority which is set over you, in all administration of it, for your good [quoted in C. Gregg Singer, A Theological Interpretation of American History, Presbyterian and Reformed, p. 17; paragraphing added].

Here Winthrop makes it clear that human beings must choose between the two kinds of freedom, “natural” and “moral.” Natural freedom, as Winthrop explains it, is an autonomous freedom that rejects any limitation or restraint or authority outside itself. It is a freedom similar to that enjoyed by any of the “beasts and other creatures,” grounded in nature, natural law and rights, and free to do evil as well as good.

Moral freedom, by contrast, is a freedom within limits and under authority. It is a liberty to do “that only which is good, just, and honest” and cannot exist apart from authority. Such liberty is a gift of God given in his covenant with his people. In short, moral freedom is liberty under law whereas natural freedom is a liberty from law.

The significance of Winthrop’s speech lay not only in what he said but also in its relation to the background situation. The deputies, in opposition to the magistrates, had demanded a written, formal law. They had even tried a magistrate under that law. Now Winthrop was warning them of a danger in the other direction. If the answer to the problem of authority in the colony was not an unlimited and discretionary or arbitrary power in the magistrate (as the deputies had argued against Winthrop), neither was the answer an autonomous or unlimited view of liberty (as Winthrop was cautioning the deputies). The truly free society must avoid both extremes in order to preserve its liberty.

But how could this be done? How could the colony make sure that moral liberty would be chosen over autonomous liberty? John Winthrop reminded the court that those who insisted upon their “natural corrupt liberties” would not maintain civil liberty because they would “murmur, and oppose, and be always striving to shake off” the “least weight of authority.” Liberty would be sacrificed along wth order. It was in tackling this problem that the Puritans gave their unique answer to the problem of freedom and order.

The Puritans believed there were several dangers to their freedom. The first was man’s desire for autonomy. Man was a sinner and in rebellion toward God and wanted to put himself above God:

Now by sin we justle the law out of its place, and the Lord out of his Glorious Sovereignty, pluck the Crown from his head, and the Scepter out of his hand, and we say and profess by our practice, there is not authority and power there to govern, nor wisdom to guide, nor good to content me, but I will be swayed by my own will and led by mine own deluded reason and satisfied with my own lusts. This is the guise of every graceless heart in the commission of sin [Perry Miller and Thomas Johnson, editors, The Puritans, Harper & Row, 1963 (rev. ed.), I, 294].

A similar danger was that man seeks a visible unity. John Cotton preached against this in his sermons on Revelation 13, in which he taught that the beasts of that chapter were, according to R. J. Rushdoony, “a visible world state and a visible world church.” Says Rushdoony:

The New England Way, as Cotton so clearly stated it, was anti-universalist.… No institution or order … could … claim to embody within itself the unity and plurality of life. Such catholicity and universality was transcendental and reserved to the triune God alone [This Independent Republic, Craig, 1964, p. 100].

A third danger to freedom was the increase and misuse of power. Cotton was one of the most outspoken on this point, demanding “that all power that is on earth be limited.” Man, as a creature of God (and a fallen one at that), is subject to limitation, including limited power and limited liberty. Sinful men, however, would attempt to destroy those limits. “If you tether a beast at night,” he said, “he knows the length of his tether before morning.”

The Puritans’ answer to the problem of freedom and order grew naturally out of their ideas on liberty and the nature of man coupled with their concept of the covenant under God. To the Puritan, every part of life involved a covenant or some kind of covenant activity. There were three basic covenants, the personal covenant of grace, the civil or social covenant, and the church covenant. Of these, the personal covenant of grace was the most important since it was the covenant by means of which man was saved and made a covenant-keeper rather than a covenant-breaker. It was basic to all the other covenants, which included family, calling, ministry, magistracy, church, state, school, or anything else. The Holy Commonwealth was just that: a union of limited, separate powers, or spheres of covenant activity, united under the triune God to his glory.

Later writers, especially Abraham Kuyper (1837–1920), Herman Dooyeweerd, Rousas Rushdoony, and Francis Schaeffer, have used the term “law spheres” to describe the Puritan solution. The spheres are both independent and interdependent. Each has its own laws and prerogatives and limitations, but no sphere is sovereign: each is only one aspect of the whole creation. Church and state, for instance, both contribute to the preservation of the Holy Comonwealth, but neither was to trespass on the other, though each had an obligation to rule its spheres according to the Word of God.

The spheres were not only to have limits to their power but were to check and balance one another. Cotton in his exposition of Revelation 13 urged that “every man … be studious of the bounds which the Lord hath set.…” If the boundaries are properly drawn, Cotton continued, giving neither too much power nor too little, they need not be imposing: though they are but banks of sand, they will contain the sea if they are in the right place.

In this way, by instituting a pluralistic principle in his society, the Puritan could have both freedom and order. The law spheres found their resolution and reconciliation in the triune God. Man could experience the spheres as unity but he could not unite them. There is no sovereign sphere, no autonomous man, no final authority on earth. Only God is sovereign and only his Law-Word is absolute.

The Puritan solution to the problem of freedom and order has left its mark on the United States. The concept of fundamental and higher law resulted in American Constitutionalism; the restriction of ultimate sovereignty to God and the diffusion and limitation of power is mirrored in the separation of powers and checks and balances of the Constitution, as well as in the whole concept of American federalism.

In the Puritan view, law and liberty were not in contradiction, and human government was neither unlimited nor absolute. By dividing and separating the powers of government and by limiting the spheres of authority and placing them in opposition to one another, the Puritans minimized the effects or error and the chances of usurpation by sinful men. At the same time they provided a way for united action and harmonious cooperation among men of good will. Not only did they find a way to tether the beast; they also grounded it in the triune God, who gave the parts their proportion and perfection. We know by its fruits that their political application of Christian truth was a sound one.

ALL THESE BREADS

all these breads—

matzo, rye,

tortillas, soft indian disks,

unbleached wheat—

broken, torn, snapped, crumbs

floating down from soft loaves

or popping up from the sheets

of perforated matzo—

these many grains

grown in red soils, black loam,

grey or yellow clay,

roots of wheat and oats

and barley and rye

probing dirt & rain,

the slender, parallel-veind leaves

arching in sun or lying

straightend in a strong wind—

crusht, ground, rolld, sifted

at last becoming

all these breads—

one diverse loaf passing

from hand to hand,

dying into each mouth,

sprouting a new

& shining grain

EUGENE WARREN

Lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees,” the writer of Hebrews urged his readers. His advice applied to heroes of the faith like Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin as well as to other Christians on both sides of the Reformation.

The great sixteenth-century Reformers, like the rest of us, sometimes had hands that drooped and knees that buckled. The glowing “no fault” biographies seem unbelievable and unworthy of attention to most readers today, accustomed as they are to no-holds-barred reporting. Adoring biographers have perpetuated some myths of greatness and have concealed important failings. Some modern debunkers, on the other hand, have gone to the other extreme and have made them appear to have not only feet but entire bodies of clay.

The Reformers and their achievements stand taller when one understands the weaknesses of these men. Luther, Zwingli, Calvin, and the other giants of that era need no cover-up flacks to promote their causes. They were aware of their deficiencies. But they also knew that they had a high priest at their sides who was able to “sympathize with our weaknesses” (Heb. 4:15). They made indelible marks in history because they trusted the God who “chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong” (1 Cor. 1:27).

Take Martin Luther. Powerlessness was his background. His family was not of the nobility. He was defensive. Not only did he lack court manners: he was crude. He was superstitious. Yet God used him as he has used no other German in all of history.

Luther sized himself up well. “I am rough, boisterous, stormy and altogether warlike,” he once wrote. “I am born to fight against innumerable monsters and devils. I must remove stumps and stones, cut away thistles and thorns and clear wild forests.” The careful historian Philip Schaff summed up Luther’s polemic disposition in this way: “Luther’s writings smell of powder; his words are battles; he overwhelms his opponents with a roaring cannonade of argument, eloquence, passion and abuse.”

One of God’s ways of making up for Luther’s deficiencies was to team him with the more irenic and scholarly Philip Melanchthon. Luther observed that his colleague had a great capacity for “softly and gently sowing and watering with joy.” This quiet genius had the ability to make friends for the Reformation and to convince some whom Luther failed to convince. But he, too, had his weaknesses. Melanchthon was so bent on peacemaking that he was often ready to compromise crucial points.

Luther’s excesses are probably known better than those of any of the other Reformers simply because he was such an outspoken person. It was not his nature to keep his thoughts to himself. He knew little of reserve. His home was a Grand Central Station where all sorts of people observed all facets of his life. Since so many shared in the table talk at Lutherhaus, the stories of his rough behavior and speech are plentiful. Schaff says of the published table talk: “Many of his sayings are exceedingly quaint, and sound strange, coarse and vulgar to refined ears. But they were never intended for publication.”

Nor was much of his other conversation and correspondence intended for publication. Historians, however, have taken pains to see that every possible utterance was recorded for posterity. Luther used abusive language on not a few of his friends as well as on his foes. In 1524 he praised Erasmus, from whom he had learned much. But five years later he called Erasmus the vainest creature in the world, an enraged viper, a refined Epicurean, a modern Lucian, a scoffer, and a disguised atheist. The Dutchman differed with the Reformers on many points and failed to come out for the Protestant position, but if Luther’s language was intended to convict and convert, it failed.

Ulrich Zwingli, too, took his lumps from Luther. Luther insulted him time and time again by consistently misspelling his name (“Zwingel”). That was nothing, however, compared to the abuse Luther heaped on him in his book disputing Zwingli’s view of the eucharist. On every page he claims Zwingli’s position is that of the devil. As the controversy reached the boiling point, Luther finally said that the Swiss were dangerous heretics, and that the only honorable course he could see for them was total surrender to his position.

“He overwhelms them with terms of opprobrium and coins new ones which cannot be translated into decent English,” Schaff wrote. The Swiss-born historian had no trouble with translation from German to English; his problem was the matter of decency.

Although Luther spent a lot of his abusive wrath in remarks directed at individual friends and foes, he had a lot left for certain large groups. In some of his better-known tirades he blasted the Anabaptists and the Jews. “What then shall we as Christians do with this damned, rejected race of Jews?” he asked. “Since they live among us, and we know about their lying and blasphemy, we cannot tolerate them if we do not wish to share in their lies, curses and blasphemy.” He went on to counsel burning the Jews’ synagogues and homes, confiscating their money, and expelling all of them from the country. He advised, “God’s rage is so great against them that they only become worse and worse through mild mercy, and not much better through severe mercy.”

Not only did Luther close the doors to Jewish evangelism in his time, but he also did great harm to the cause for centuries to come. His ugly remarks have also inspired hate campaigns by anti-Semitists from his day to the present.

All the Reformers to some degree followed cultural practices that Christians in later times soundly condemned. American evangelicals have particular difficulty with the Reformers in the area of church-state relationships. Although their work helped to lay important foundations for religious freedom and toleration later, the Reformers’ own obedience to and use of civil government looks strange to American Christians.

In those days the sovereign was seen as the protector of his people, and that protection extended to their faith. Therefore, when the religious leader of his realm spotted a case of heresy, it was the civil ruler’s duty to remove the offense.

Zwingli considered Anabaptists heretics of the worst sort, and so it was the duty of Zurich’s authorities to clear them from the territory. These people who insisted so strongly on baptism only for believers suffered a unique punishment. They were drowned in the river Limmat by Zurich’s officials. The record is not clear as to whether Zwingli consented to or opposed this form of execution. There is, of course, the suspicion that he suggested such a watery treatment would be the most appropriate kind for the Anabaptists.

Other Swiss cantons followed the example of Zurich and drowned Anabaptists in their rivers and lakes. So did the ruling bodies in some other nations. Other Anabaptists paid for their “heresy” in the flames or under the sword.

The best-known case of church-state cooperation is Calvin’s Geneva. The reformer did not even become a citizen of the republic until five years before his death, never held office, and was on occasion expelled by the government. But he was often called in to meetings of Geneva’s ruling councils, and his advice was heeded.

Calvin’s doctrinal position was the official position of Geneva’s people, government, and church. Therefore, in keeping with the practice of the times, any deviation was not to be tolerated.

The Spanish physician Michael Servetus is one of history’s better-known heretics. He and Calvin corresponded for years, and when they were young Calvin had attempted to win him to Christ. The two were similar in some ways, but in others they were opposites. Servetus was both fascinated by Calvin’s work and extremely critical of it. Finally Calvin decided that his priorities would not allow him to continue the correspondence.

By that time Servetus was living under a pseudonym in Dauphiné, an area of France not far from Geneva. He wrote anti-trinitarian books that were published in France and shipped to the major European centers. His identity was finally discovered (some say with Calvin’s help), and the Roman Catholic authorities of that territory put him on trial. In the midst of the proceedings he escaped. Instead of going to any number of places that might have been more hospitable, he headed for Geneva and certain confrontation with its famous theologian.

Unquestionably, Calvin took an active role in the heresy trial of Servetus. Because he propagated his beliefs publicly (especially in print), Servetus was considered a danger to church and state. Not only did he differ from Calvin’s doctrine; he was also charged with blasphemy and lying. Calvin never expressed regret over the prosecution of Servetus, nor did he oppose his execution. The record shows that he did attempt to keep his theological foe from being slowly burned at the stake. He favored a more humane death, such as beheading!

Regardless of what the record shows, that one death at the stake has forever labeled Calvin the “dictator of Geneva.” The state was responsible for the trial and the punishment, but because of the theologian’s influence and participation, history has given him all the blame. Current tourist guides make sure that their readers know about Calvin’s role in the trial and execution of Servetus, but they fail to note that Servetus was not put to death until the Geneva council’s decision was approved by those in other Swiss cities. Neither do these books point to the thousands of Protestants who were put to the stake by the civil authorities in other jurisdictions.

In a spot that is not on the popular tourist trails in Geneva stands a small monument. It was erected in 1903 by some Calvinists, on the 350th anniversary and on the site of Servetus’s death. The inscription on this “expiation monument” expresses regret that the methods of the times were used in the Servetus affair. These sons of the Reformation put the matter into perspective when they said that Calvin’s huge contributions were made despite this glaring error and that they honored him for his strengths and not for his weaknesses.

Current disciples of the sixteenth-century Reformers should do the same. They should remember the source of the Reformers’ strength and the motive for their reforming zeal. These were Christ’s men, first and last. Their general practice was in line with the admonition in First Corinthians 1:31, “Let him who boasts, boast of the Lord.” They honored the Bible as his Word. What Schaff said of Luther applies to the others as well: they “lived and moved in the heart of the Scriptures, and this was the secret of [their] strength and success.”

CHRISTOGRAPHIA XXX

Depictions of sorrow on a cathode tube

Pale traces of light pulsing with heartbeat

Sine waves limning a crisis of muscle

(Listen for the respirator’s suck)

Twice in the night the nurse opens a valve

Glass teats trickle sugarwater & blood

Between the sheets’ aseptic crease

The patient lingers, tasting gauze

The pastor’s nervous prayer scatters upward

The plasma sings from flask to vein

The monitors gleam with monotone chirp

The patient curls his tongue for a last word

As electrons flow to a still horizon

The gate of sorrow opens to the Lord

EUGENE WARREN

“The kind of people he produced made the American experience possible”

A quarter of a century ago, Reformation Sunday made a spectacular showing in the life of America’s churches each year. Lutherans gathered by the thousands at afternoon rallies to listen to powerful sermons on “justification by faith alone” and “the menace of clericalism.” They heard Martin Luther described as God’s servant who had taken his stand on God’s Word and delivered the churches from ecclesiastical tyranny. Whatever their synod, Luther was their hero; they loved him and were part of his family. When they joined in the mass singing of “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” it was an unforgettable experience.

While Lutherans were celebrating the nailing of Luther’s ninety-five theses to the Wittenberg church door, other American Protestants were getting together to observe Reformation Sunday in their own way. It might be a pageant, or a symposium, or a rendition of Mendelssohn’s “Reformation Symphony,” or a preaching service. Some sermons tended to eulogize Luther not as a church hero but as a symbol of courage, of independent thinking, of emancipation. Others emphasized the “great truths” of the Reformation: the priesthood of all believers, the rediscovery of the Bible, the recovery of a sense of vocation, and the liberation of the human spirit.

Today Reformation Sunday plays a less significant role in the life of our churches, for reasons that I will leave to others to explain. I address myself at America’s bicentennial period to this question: Did the Reformation play some role in the formation of the American republic? Is there indeed a line of thought running from Martin Luther to Thomas Jefferson?

I venture the opinion that if a line runs from Luther to Jefferson, it is of thin silk. Not that the vital role of Lutheranism in early America can be denied! During the Revolutionary War, for example, Lutheran pastors in Pennsylvania and Virginia pointed to Luther’s stand against both church and state to inspire the colonials who were struggling to cast off the tax burdens imposed by the mother country. The American impact of Lutheranism, it should be added, was made largely through the churches.

The real contribution of the Reformation to America came through John Calvin. Whether for better or for worse, Calvinism made its impression both inside and outside the churches. It affected the whole life of our nation to such an extent that the German historian Leopold von Ranke remarked, “John Calvin was the virtual founder of America.” Just as the teachings that the English Reformers brought back from Geneva after 1558 produced Oliver Cromwell and parliamentary democracy, so those same teachings stamped the American character. For convenience I will distinguish three primary spheres of Calvin’s influence: (1) moral, (2) industrial, and (3) political.

At the outset it should be said that Calvin himself could not know the direction his teachings would take. We can search his Institutes of the Christian Religion in vain for an outline of the American Constitution. Yet it was not so much what Calvin taught as the kind of people he produced that made the American experience possible.

1. In England the moral result of Calvin’s teaching was Puritanism. The first Puritans actually sat at the feet of the Swiss master, where they produced that Geneva Bible, whose marginal notes so infuriated Elizabeth. As the exiles returned to London they brought with them a stern disapproval of the gaiety of the royal court, the voluptuousness of the stage, the worldliness of the clergy, and the lack of restraint on Sunday amusements. They took issue with the worship practices Elizabeth had established in the church: crucifix, vestments, robes, liturgy, pomp. They opposed the hierarchy with its ecclesiastical grades, its wealthy holdings, and its supreme governor (the queen herself). They were disturbed by increased vagrancy and idleness in society, by politicians disguised as priests, by British piracy on the high seas.

The Puritan influence spread quickly, so that within fifty years, according to the historian John Richard Green, “England became the people of a book, and that book was the Bible.” Another historian, Pattison, wrote, “It may be doubted if all history can furnish another instance of such a victory of moral force.” Macaulay called the Puritans “the most remarkable body of men the world has ever produced.”

No one became a Puritan for the fun of it. It meant taking Jesus Christ seriously. It meant jeopardizing one’s business interests, giving up amusements, becoming suspect in fashionable circles, endangering one’s family, risking personal ridicule, banishment, prison, and death. And these were the people who came to America and whose descendants played such important parts in the struggle for independence!

The popular outlook, whether in Britain or in America, was salted by John Calvin. Men thought his thoughts after him. They discerned clearly the eternal distinction between right and wrong, and out of that distinction they forged what has come to be known as “the Puritan conscience.” Today, of course, the Puritan conscience is under heavy attack; “Puritanical” has become a pejorative word. There were those ghastly mistakes—Servetus and the Salem witches. But in 1776 it was the Puritan sense of moral indignation as much as anything that caused the thirteen colonies to revolt.

2. A second sphere of Calvin’s influence in America has been heavily emphasized by the sociologists. They describe the creation of a “Protestant work ethic,” which, they say, declared that God prospered the energetic and thrifty ones while hell was filled with idlers and wastrels.

Max Weber, the German social scientist, had no use for either Calvinism or Puritanism. He claimed that Calvin’s teaching on vocation (that God has assigned various callings to us human beings to counteract our “boiling restlessness”) actually played into the Industrial Revolution. Factory owners (said Weber) froze Calvin’s callings into permanent job classifications and invoked the Protestant work ethic to get more production out of their hired hands. Thus many of the abuses of modern capitalism can, in his view, be laid at Calvin’s door. The true son of Calvin in America, Weber felt, was not Jonathan Edwards but rather Benjamin Franklin, the man who declared that time is money.

Ernst Troeltsch expressed Weber’s position this way:

The Protestant ethic of the calling, with its Calvinistic assimilation of the capitalist system, with its severity and its control of the labor rendered as a sign of the assurance of election, made service in one’s calling (that is, the systematic exercise of one’s energies) into a service both necessary in itself and appointed by God, in which profit is regarded as the sign of the divine approval. This conception of the calling laid the foundation of a world of specialized labor, which taught men to work for work’s sake, and in so doing it produced our present-day bourgeois way of life [The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches, Allen and Unwin, 1931, Volume II].

Weber’s views have been strongly resisted, particularly by historians, and Calvin has survived the anti-capitalistic rage of the scholars and politicians. But until a few years ago it was a fact that the world’s most prosperous and heavily industrialized areas were those that had been touched by the Calvinistic wing of the Reformation. (Most of Canada’s millionaires even today live in Toronto rather than Montreal.)

3. Finally, we need to consider the Reformation’s contribution to political theory. What part did it play in the development of a free democratic American society? If we speak of the Puritans, we can say that Calvinism’s contribution was outstanding. Roger Williams, Thomas Hooker, Samuel Hopkins, and others all fostered the concept of civil liberty. In the eighteenth century the colonial will to resist was strengthened not only by the agitation of Christian laymen such as Samuel Adams and John Hancock but also by the preaching of White-field, Tennent, Witherspoon, Jonas Clarke, and other evangelists and clergymen.

As we know, the Americans at the head of government—Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and others—drew their ideas not so much from church teachings as from the writings of European essayists, particularly Montaigne, Montesquieu, and John Locke. And where did John Locke derive his understanding of the natural equality of men, which is reproduced in our Declaration of Independence? According to his own statement he found it in the Scriptures. Locke was a Puritan by upbringing; his father had been a Cromwellian. Perhaps the best description of the source of American equality has been given by John Richard Green: “The meanest peasant, once called of God, felt within him a strength stronger than the might of kings. In that mighty elevation of the masses embodied in the Calvinistic doctrines of election and grace, lay the germs of the modern principles of human equality” (History of the English People, vol. 3).

Not all the sixteenth-century Reformers were sincere friends of political liberty. Yet we cannot help noticing that as the influence of Calvinism tapers off in the Western world, the number of surviving democracies is diminishing. Is it too much to suggest that we need a Calvin for our times, what Thomas Gray in “Elegy Written in a County Churchyard” called “some Cromwell guiltless of his country’s blood”? Williston Walker wrote of the Geneva Reformer:

His was the only system that the Reformation produced that could organize itself powerfully in the face of government hostility. It trained strong men, confident in their election to be fellow workers with God in the accomplishment of his will, courageous to do battle, insistent on character, and confident that God has given in the Scriptures the guide of all right human conduct and proper worship. This was Calvin’s work [Great Men of the Christian Church, University of Chicago, 1908].

In Book Four of his Institutes Calvin himself wrote, “We are subject to the men who rule over us, but subject only in the Lord. If they command anything against him, let us not pay the least regard to it.” That one sentence did as much, perhaps, to fan the flame of freedom as any other utterance of the time. Like Luther’s “Hier steh’ ich, ich kann nicht anders!” it encouraged men and women all over Europe to die for what they most surely believed, and helped to emancipate the human spirit from centuries of bondage.

Two centuries later such words set the spiritual tone for the composing of the Declaration of Independence and the American Constitution. Heroic language has a way of leaping from mountain peak to mountain peak, and 1776 was a time for heroes. So it is appropriate, another two hundred years later, that we honor along with our founding fathers the hero of Wittenberg and the Bible teacher of Geneva. Of Calvin we may say that he was a stern, intolerant, and in many ways unattractive person; yet he cannot be faulted for what others did; and he certainly built better than he knew. In America, some of us, at least, are grateful.

Not long after veteran missionary William Carlsen returned home from Thailand for furlough he received a call from a woman in Pittsburgh. She identified herself as an employee of the Central Intelligence Agency and made an appointment to visit him in Sharon, the western Pennsylvania town where he was staying. The visit lasted eight hours. Carlsen answered questions based on his knowledge of the sometimes troubled tribal areas of northeastern Thailand, and he offered his observations on American policy matters.

Such an interview is called a “debriefing” by the CIA. Until rather recently many missionaries were routinely debriefed, either on the field or—as in Carlsen’s case—after they returned home on leave (Carlsen’s interview lasted longer than most). A spokesman for Overseas Crusades, based in Palo Alto, California, says that at one time virtually all OC personnel were being debriefed, even administrators returning home after short overseas trips. Now the practice has virtually ceased, says the official. (OC has 150 missionaries, the majority of them Americans, serving in Asia and Latin America.)

Spot checks indicate a similar trend among other mission groups: not as many missionaries are being approached by intelligence officers as formerly. An ex-CIA case officer in an interview said that much of the information gleaned from missionaries “is not very valuable.” Thus in light of the current budget crunch, interviews would tend to be more selective. David A Phillips, former head of the CIA’s Latin American operations, confirmed that CIA-missionary contacts have diminished in the past few years but he did not specify why. He noted that such contacts had been going on for twenty-five years in Latin America “to mutual advantage” of both the CIA and missionaries.

Overall, between 10 and 25 per cent of America’s 35,000 Protestant and 7,000 Catholic foreign missionaries have given information to intelligence authorities, observers estimate. The average would be higher among missionaries serving in rural areas—where reliable information is hard to come by—and in places where there is social and political unrest; lower among missionaries in urban areas, where information is readily obtainable.

Some mission boards have specific policies directing their missionaries to refrain from giving information to intelligence personnel. Among these are the Church of the Brethren, the Wycliffe Bible Translators, and the Christian and Missionary Alliance (CMA). Compliance by the rank and file is something else. Missionary Carlsen, for example, serves with the CMA. He says he is not aware of the directive from headquarters, and he furthermore “counts it a privilege to share information with responsible agencies of the government when they seek us out.” He points to policy changes effected by his counsel; these include selection of people with higher moral standards to serve in American government posts in Thailand (a number of Southern Baptists are among the new faces).

Many CMA missionaries in southeast Asia were solicited for information by military, State Department, and CIA officials during the 1960s and early 1970s. Most, said the ex-CIA source, cooperated.

CMA missions executive Grady Mangham acknowledges that there has been some missionary entanglement with intelligence officers. But, says he, “where we’ve known about it, we’ve tried to stop it.” At the same time, he adds, the issue is a difficult one to resolve: are there not some occasions and topics on which information can be given without ethical compromise? For instance, a missionary informing officials that the local AID (Agency for International Development) administrator is crooked? And is it wrong merely to describe the kind of literature and radio broadcasts that Communists are producing for a minority group?

Mission executives Lois Miller of the United Methodist Church and Morris A. Sorenson, Jr., of the American Lutheran Church say they’ve heard of missionaries who have been approached by the CIA but they say they know of no specific individual who has cooperated. And foreign missions chief Baker J. Cauthen of the Southern Baptist Convention told Religious News Service that he has not been “aware of problems along this line.” A United Presbyterian Church spokesman likewise said he knows of no cases involving the CIA.

Clyde Taylor, a World Evangelical Fellowship leader, says he knows of scattered instances of CIA-missionary intelligence links, and he says he’s opposed to such relationships.

William Wipfler, a National Council of Churches missions executive and former Episcopal missionary to Latin America, believes that “a lot of people are willing to cooperate,” and he worries that the global mission cause will be hurt severely as foreign governments increasingly associate missionaries with intelligence gathering activities.

The NCC has held several consultations on the issue. An NCC policy statement was drawn up in 1967 expressing disapproval of staff members involving themselves with the CIA. Although the statement was circulated among member denominations, none adopted it. Maryknoll priest Charles Curry of Washington, D. C., a former missionary to Latin America, is working closely with NCC leaders as the head of a Protestant-Catholic coalition that is drafting a proposed code of ethics for missionaries. The code calls for non-cooperation with intelligence agencies. Mission boards presumably will be called upon to adopt it.

Among those who attended an NCC meeting last fall was John Marks, a former State Department intelligence analyst who co-authored The CIA and The Cult of Intelligence with Vincent Marchetti, an ex-CIA agent. Reports at the meeting centered on contacts between missionaries and CIA agents. Marks decided to investigate further. His findings were published by the National Catholic News Service in July and in subsequent news stories. Some of the allegations had been made earlier by others but had been largely ignored by the press. Examples of intelligence-missionary links cited by Marks:

• A Catholic bishop in South Viet Nam was on the CIA payroll until at least 1971.

• A Protestant missionary in Bolivia fed intelligence reports regularly to the CIA regarding Communist activities, labor unions, and farmers’ organizations.

• Another Protestant missionary in Bolivia until recently tipped the CIA about Communists.

• CIA money helped to stake Catholic radio broadcasts beamed at combatting illiteracy in Colombia; the programs included anti-Communist propaganda.

• Catholic nuns in Bolivia unwittingly were used to collect important census information for the CIA in connection with an anti-illiteracy program supported partly by the CIA.

• Priests in Cuba were part of the CIA’s anti-Castro network.

• A Catholic Relief Services worker in South Viet Nam was really a military intelligence officer.

• CIA agents posed as missionaries (Marks has given no details about this allegation).

• Jesuit priest Roger Vekemans of Belgium was a conduit for CIA funding of anti-Communist social-reform efforts in Latin America.

The Vekemans charge came originally from one of the priest’s American Jesuit friends, James Vizzard of Washington, D. C. Vizzard says Vekemans got $5 million from AID and $5 million from the CIA after a 1963 meeting with President John F. Kennedy and other top administration officials, including CIA director John McCone. The money was to be used in connection with a $25 million Vatican-directed program to establish an anti-Communist network of labor, cultural, and social reform efforts in Latin America. The story was detailed in a 1971 book on political involvement of the Catholic Church in Latin America, written by Jesuit scholastic David E. Mutchler. Vekemans denied the charges but Marks says he has new evidence to support them.

Vizzard told a Washington Star reporter that Vekemans used some of the CIA money to help defeat the election of Marxist Salvadore Allende in Chile in 1964. But, insisted Vizzard, the CIA didn’t ask Vekemans to do anything he would not have done anyway in carrying out orders from the Vatican; it was a case of the CIA helping to finance a program that coincided with the agency’s objectives. (Vekemans moved to Colombia after Allende came to power.)

A story in the October 7 issue of the National Courier, the new Christian tabloid, says that an internal directive within the CIA issued during the Eisenhower administration prohibits the agency from using missionaries to gather intelligence. The paper quotes a former CIA officer who describes CIA director William Colby as a devout Catholic who has no intention of “harnessing” missionaries. But the source goes on to show how the directive was circumvented by a less-than-strict interpretation of it.

The source says that 95 per cent of intelligence is information about people—how they think, what they are doing, their grievances. But most of the information gleaned from missionaries “is useless,” the paper quotes him as saying, “because they don’t know what to look for.” He tells how he coached several missionaries, telling them what to look for upon their return to South Viet Nam. Claiming they had “urgent” information that could alter the course of events, they had been flown to Washington—where the CIA determined they had “nothing.” Even after coaching, they were unable to come up with anything “valuable” after their return to the field, laments the source.

Some missionaries in southeast Asia refused to cooperate with intelligence authorities, says the ex-CIA officer, but most did cooperate, and some offered helpful information. (Missionaries recalled in interviews that some of their colleagues spent much time with military intelligence officers.) An example cited by the source involves Montagnard ministers in South Viet Nam who worked in Communist-controlled areas. Missionaries gleaned information from these workers and relayed it to intelligence authorities.

In such situations, says one mission official, missionaries are not motivated by patriotism but by concern over what a Communist victory would mean: the end of their work, possibly the deaths of close friends among national workers, the curtailment of Gospel outreach. These zealous missionaries don’t see themselves as spying for America but as defending the Lord’s work, says the official.

Nevertheless, complain critics, these actions by a minority serve only to buttress the suspicions of many foreign authorities that all American missionaries are spies.

William Carlsen has a so-what attitude toward this objection. “We already have a stigma,” he says. “We’re white and from America, and the Communists think we’re spies anyway, so we might as well cooperate if our help is needed.”

Probably the most explosive charge in the Courier story is an allegation by the former CIA agent that the Vatican has one of the world’s best intelligence operations—and that nearly two dozen American intelligence agents are assigned to the Vatican operation, frequently exchanging information with their Vatican counterparts.

A Catholic source denies knowledge of a Vatican version of the CIA, and State Department spokesman Harlan Moen is quoted by the Courier as saying he doesn’t know what the source is talking about. The United States has no diplomatic relations with the Vatican, he points out, adding that only Henry Cabot Lodge and an aide have any official government connection at all. The only other Americans there would be, students and priests, he says.

An observer, however, remarks that the Vatican is within walking distance of the U. S. embassy in Rome, to which a large contingent of Americans are assigned.

The special U. S. Senate committee studying the CIA was expected to look into the CIA-missionary connection sometime this month, and Senator Mark Hatfield was planning to make public what his staff has found in an investigation of the matter.

Vatican officials say they presently have no plans to conduct an official inquiry into charges involving CIA connections with Catholic missionaries.

Catholic and Protestant mission leaders meanwhile agree: the whole question of CIA-missionary cooperation deserves a lot more thought than has been given to it in the past.

World’S Newest: Widely Evangelized

Papua New Guinea, the world’s newest independent nation, may be between 80 and 90 per cent Christian. The territory has been governed by Australia under international mandates since World War I. One of the stated aims of the Australian administration was “to replace paganism by the acceptance of the Christian faith, and the ritual of primitive life by the practice of religion.” Most of the church growth has taken place since World War II, when these South Pacific islands were a battleground. But Christian missions date back more than 100 years.

While statisticians of government, churches, and missions produce widely divergent figures, there is general agreement that about 30 percent of the population is Roman Catholic (among the Catholics is Michael Somare, 39, the first prime minister) and about 30 per cent is Lutheran. The other Christians are related to a variety of groups, including Anglican and Methodist. The “cargo cults” are the area’s best-known non-Christians.

Missions have worked to develop indigenous leadership of the Papuan churches, and most major groups are now independent and have native-born chief executives. However, since a large proportion of government leaders are Christians, there is no expectation that missionary work will be curtailed.

The American Lutheran Church, which has about fifty workers in Papua New Guinea, has named an international team to advise it on disposition of a variety of enterprises. The ALC set up such agencies as a coastal shipping and aircraft charter operation, cocoa and coconut plantations, a publishing firm, and a self-insurance plan when it needed such services but found them unavailable.

According to a report on the territory prepared for the 1974 International Congress on World Evangelization, there were 3,388 foreign missionaries at work in 1971. This was approximately one per 800 residents. The report, drawn up by the Missions Advanced Research and Communication Center, went on to say: “There are very few other areas of the world where the Christian Church has made such a great effort to bring the people to Christ.”

The population at independence was reported to be 2.6 milion.

Christian Politics

Must one be a professing Christian to participate in a political party known as a Christian party?

That was the question at The Hague when 1,700 delegates and observers from three Dutch parties met in the first congress of the Christian Democratic Appeal. The CDA is a two-year-old federation of the Anti-Revolutionary party (ARP, founded by Reformed theologian-statesman Abraham Kuyper in 1879), the Christian Historical Union (founded by parliamentarian A. F. de Savorin Lohman in 1908 after a split from the ARP), and the Catholic People’s party (with roots in the late nineteenth century also).

After long debate the congress rejected, 597 to 336, an attempt to base the party on “Christian principles.” The decision, in effect, meant that membership was open to all who accept the party platform even though they might not be professing Christians.

The CDA coalition now has forty-eight seats in the Second Chamber (House of Representatives) of the Netherlands. It is the largest bloc in the Dutch legislative branch, topping the forty-three seats held by the Labor party.

ARP forces fought the open-party policy. While they reportedly do not consider the question finally settled, they are expected to go along with the others in the coalition and agree on one slate of CDA candidates in the 1977 national elections.

Plea For Prisoners

General Secretary B. Edgar Johnson of the Church of the Nazarene last month urged U. S. intercession for the release of two Nazarene missionaries imprisoned in Mozambique (see September 26 issue, page 48). They are Armand Doll, 59, of Waltham, Massachusetts, and Hugh Friberg, 32, of Sumner, Washington.

Also in jail last month were Don Milam an independent youth worker of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania; Saluh Daka, a Rhodesian associated with Youth With a Mission; and Classius Potigeur, a Bible college graduate from Brazil. The three worked together in youth evangelism in Lourenco Marques, the capital of Mozambique. Milam’s success with an anti-drug program had led the government to provide a rentfree facility for his work.

After the Marxist-oriented FRELIMO liberation party took over the government in June, many restrictions were placed on religious activities. It is believed that charges related to some of these restrictions led to the arrests.

Many missionaries have left, but a handful of United Methodists were still in the African nation.

American evangelical authors have often noted and criticized the assimilation into Christianity of cultural values held in high regard in the United States. Among those who have written of this are Richard V. Pierard (in The Unequal Yoke: Evangelical Christianity and Political Conservatism (Lippincott, 1970); Mark O. Hatfield in Conflict and Conscience (Word Books, 1971); and David O. Moberg in The Great Reversal: Evangelism Versus Social Concern (Lippincott, 1972).

But speakers from the Third World who dealt with this delicate issue at the 1974 International Congress on World Evangelization had a special contribution to make. They were able to show the effects of what one called “American culture-Christianity” upon the relations between the American missionary enterprise and the Church in the Third World today. Many an American Christian would readily admit with Moberg:

We have equated “Americanism” with Christianity to such an extent that people in other cultures must adopt American institutional patterns when they are converted. We are led through natural psychological processes to an unconscious belief that the essence of our American Way of Life is basically, if not entirely, Christian [op. cit., p. 42].

But at the Lausanne congress this criticism was voiced from the Third World and applied to the missionary enterprise.

As was to be expected, not all the congress participants agreed with those speakers. The debate that followed was inevitable at a gathering that took in so wide a range of national and cultural backgrounds. This variety was an asset; clearly the congress was not dominated by representatives of one particular school, with which all participants were expected to agree. All the speakers had full freedom to express their views.

The culture-Christianity issue discussed at Lausanne continues to be debated in various parts of the world. Not only in Asia, Africa, and Latin America but also in Europe (particularly in England, Holland, and Germany) and Australia, evangelicals seem to be increasingly aware of the need to deliver Christianity from its cultural accretions and to dispel every sign of confusion between the Gospel and American “power.” The whole problem of the relation between the missionary movement and the Church in the Third World is sure to occupy an important place on the evangelical agenda for the next few years.

Are evangelicals in the United States really willing to listen to their Third World brethren who are critical of American culture-Christianity? Some observers are concerned about what they regard as a “Lausanne backlash.” One of them reports that “evangelical Christians in the United States are sensitive to the criticisms that were leveled at them in Lausanne. The result has been a drastic cut in giving to foreign missions.” If that is so, the reasons why American evangelicals should listen to their foreign brethren need to be set forth and considered. I would like to suggest two: there are others.

1. The best way to understand those with whom we disagree is to listen to them. Appealing to ad hominem arguments or pretending that the criticisms are necessarily inspired by ill will against Americans is simply a way of hiding one’s head in the sand. The view that the modern missionary movement has been all too bound up with “American imperialism” is far more widespread than most American evangelicals would like to admit. The important point, however, is not how many people hold that view but whether it is supported by the facts.

Could it be that Americans in general are unable to view criticism of their methods as a challenge to examine those methods as objectively as possible? Do they take criticism only as a personal attack? Man’s natural reaction to criticism is to take offense and to withdraw into his shell. But the Christian’s response should be change, whenever and wherever change is needed for the sake of the Gospel. It is high time for American evangelicals, especially those who are leaders in the churches and in missionary societies, to face the criticisms that are being leveled outside the United States against their “successful” techniques for evangelism and church planting.

2. No one has a monopoly on truth. Those who disagree with us may have something to teach us. A growing number of Christians all over the world believe that for too long missionary work has been squeezed into an American mold. Those who do not accept that view have two alternatives before them: (a) to reject as “anti-American” what the critics have to say and either persist in their approach or withdraw from the Christian mission around the world, and (b) to make an honest evaluation of their position in the light of Scripture to see whether in fact it needs to be purged from the defects that others claim to have found in it.

We who have lived in a foreign culture for any length of time can mention a number of insights into our own culture that have come through the experience of looking at it with, as it were, foreign eyes. We should therefore readily realize that our foreign critics are in a position to tell us something about those things in our lives that reflect our culture rather than our commitment to Christ.

God’s purpose for his people all over the world is that they attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God. It remains to be seen how much the Lausanne congress has helped evangelicals everywhere toward that end.

C. RENE PADILLA

The indictment of Charles Manson-follower Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme for the attempted assassination of President Ford shows the continuing influence of Manson on certain members of his clan. But for former clan member Charles “Tex” Watson, now serving a life sentence for the 1969 Sharon Tate-LaBianca murder spree, Manson’s influence is completely ended. In May, 1975, Watson committed his life to Jesus Christ, and today he apparently is living a dramatically changed life.

In an interview at California Men’s Colony in San Luis Obispo, Watson said, “I was once enslaved to Charles Manson, but now I am a slave to Jesus Christ. As his slave, I have really been liberated. Even these walls do not imprison me, because Christ has set me free.”

The twenty-nine-year-old, lean, clean-cut six-footer was radiant as he told of his recent experience of receiving God’s forgiveness and sensing his love. He says he now desires to serve Christ and win others to him in prison.

“Christ is all there is for me. In him I have salvation, justification, and sanctification,” said Watson. He presently serves as an acting deacon in the prison’s Protestant church and is a chapel staff worker under Chaplain Stanley McGuire.

Fellow Christians in the California Men’s Colony say that since Watson received Christ under the prison ministry of a visiting chaplain last May, his life has been decidedly different. Together with other Christian inmates, Watson regularly studies the Bible, participates in prayer sessions, and seeks to witness for Christ. Given a copy of Helter-Skelter, Vincent Bugliosi’s best-seller about the Manson clan murders, Watson has not taken time to read it. “I’m no longer interested in anything about Manson,” he said. “I would rather read the Bible.”

Watson openly admits his active participation in killing seven people in the Tate-LaBianca attacks, and he believes justice was meted out in his first-degree murder conviction. Sentenced to die, he awaited his fate on San Quentin’s death row until a Supreme Court decision on capital punishment saved him from death. He says that through Christ he has life for all eternity.

Watson alleges that Charles Manson is demon-possessed, and he asserts that he himself came under the same evil power when he submitted to Manson’s leadership in 1969. Manson’s intense personality and ability to assess and influence other people’s characters—especially when they were under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs—enabled him to bring his clan members to the place of willingness to obey him implicitly and even die for him.

Watson states that his first contact with the clan leader occurred when Beach Boy singer Brian Wilson introduced him to Manson after Watson had picked up the hitchhiking singer in Malibu, California. (Wilson was not available immediately for comment.) Watson soon thereafter became a member of his drug-oriented, free-sex clan that grew in number to twenty-five women and five men. (Time reports that the Manson family now consists of sixty men and women, mostly in their mid-twenties.) Together they lived in a desert commune where such drugs as LSD, mescaline, and speed were daily fare. They listened to Manson spout an apocalyptic view of history highlighted by a final black-white racial conflict. In an apparent scheme to trigger his envisioned racial war, Manson ordered Watson and four of the clan’s women to massacre the inhabitants of a house rented to movie actress Sharon Tate by Terry Melcher, the son of Doris Day. While Manson stayed at the ranch, the four set forth, high on LSD, to carry out their leader’s plan.

Watson recounts that when he entered the house he kicked a man asleep on a couch in the head. The startled man, Voityck Frokowski, asked, “Who are you?” Watson says he replied, “I’m a devil and I’m here to do his work.” The butchery then began. Watson said all the while he felt as if he were “floating” and experienced no guilt during the mayhem. The following night Watson and other clan members attacked and killed the LaBiancas, with Manson present but not active in the actual killings.

Weeks later Watson fled from the clan’s ranch and flew home to Texas. But Manson’s influence remained so strong that he traveled back to California to connect with the clan leader. He could not locate him and again returned home. Soon thereafter law-enforcement officers broke the case, and Watson found himself facing a first-degree murder charge.

Trials, conviction, the death sentence, and prison life made Watson reach out for help. In May, 1975, he found the help he needed as he committed his life to Jesus Christ at a prison gospel service conducted by broadcaster “Chaplain Ray” Hoekstra. He had known a church background as a boy in the Copesville, Texas, Methodist Church. But this year, he says, at the age of twenty-nine, Christ completely changed his life. Part of the change, he adds, is a new ability to love God and man. Watson now devotes himself to the ministry he believes God has given him in prison. Hopeful that one day he may gain release, he aspires to become a Christian minister to youth.

He would like to tell “Squeaky” Fromme and other clan members of his liberating faith in Christ, but he is not sure they would be open to his witness. “The Holy Spirit alone,” he affirms, “could enable them to understand the meaning of faith in Christ.”

Chicago Crisis

Evangelicals for Social Action (ESA), the group associated with the 1973 Chicago Declaration of Evangelical Social Action, may have been sidetracked at the group’s third national workshop meeting last month. Some of the eighty participants gloomily predicted the group’s demise.

The three-day meeting was to have focused on the theological basis for social action. There were speeches, papers on historical models of Christian social action, and testimonies of personal involvement.

Feelings erupted on the second day, however, when minister Bill Bentley lashed out at the group for being too white-minded and for failing to consider a black model of social action. Bentley, pastor of a small Chicago church, is president of the National Black Evangelical Association. He enumerated other race-related grievances. A shouting match ensued between him and Ira Galloway, a Methodist pastor who formerly headed the United Methodist evangelism department.

“What can we do?” asked sociologist David Moberg. “That’s your problem,” Bentley huffed.

In a rip-roaring business session the ESA planning committee was dissolved in favor of a new one consisting of four white males (Ron Sider, Richard Mouw, John Alexander, and Rufus Jones), four white females (Evon Bacchus, Lucille Dayton, Judy Hall, and Karen Michaelson), and eight blacks. Bentley and a few others were to select the blacks.

Sitting quietly through it all was controversial editor Jim Wallis of the Post-American, one of the ESA’s early prime movers. He had announced earlier that he was quitting his leadership position because the ESA was becoming too structured and institutional. He, his paper, and his Chicago Coalition community plan to move to Washington, D. C., soon.

Several others said privately that they too planned to drop out of ESA. Some allege that Bentley is still fighting the battles of the 1960s and is trying to drag the ESA down to his level. ESA chairman Ron Sider of Messiah College hopes that “the dying brings resurrection.” Time will tell.

Love China

More than 400 persons interested in spreading the Gospel in Communist China gathered from nineteen nations last month in Manila and discussed strategy, swapped news and rumors, and exchanged samples of literature. The conference, Love China ’75, was convened by eighteen Christian organizations having a special interest in Chinese evangelism. Bible smuggler “Brother Andrew” Vander Bihl of Holland was honorary chairman.

One of the main speakers was David Aikman, Hong Kong correspondent for Time. He predicted that the Maoist regime for image-polishing reasons might soon invite a group of American evangelicals to visit the People’s Republic.

If so, they might discover what United Methodist executive Herman Will learned on a recent visit. He said he was told by a Chinese churchman that despite the breakup of institutional religion small Christian groups meet in homes, schools, and even club rooms of factories. They are wary of contacts with foreigners, however, because of the anti-foreign campaign of the violent “cultural revolution” of the 1960s. (Worship in the few remaining church buildings was ended during this period).

The churchman, a former Episcopal bishop and theological educator, told Will that although there are no formal church structures, a non-denominational fellowship is functioning, communications are developing among the various groups, and a lay ministry is emerging. The majority of Christians are thought to be elderly.

Some 13,000 missionaries and Christian workers fled or were expelled from China in 1949, and the organized church was virtually extinguished in the succeeding years.

Religion In Transit

Evangelist Kathryn Kuhlman and her former administrator, Paul Bartholomew, have settled out of court in Los Angeles for an unspecified sum. Bartholomew had sued Miss Kuhlman for $430,000, alleging breach of contract, removal of personal records without authorization, and the like (August 8 issue, page 35). Under the arrangement, neither is permitted to discuss the matter, but Bartholomew said, “There have been no apologies.”

A District of Columbia court dismissed a case brought by a Connecticut couple against Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church. Claiming the church had used mind-control techniques to hold their eighteen-year-old daughter Wendy against her will, Mr. and Mrs. Elton Helander had asked that she be returned to them. The judge ruled that the couple did not prove their claim. Wendy abruptly rejoined the group early this year after a deprogramming attempt by cult foe Ted Patrick apparently failed.

The Unification Church opened a seminary on a 245-acre spread it bought near Barrytown, New York, last year for $1.5 million. Fifty-seven students from ten countries signed up for the opening semester of the two-year course, which offers a Master of Religious Education (M.R.E.) degree. Four of the five faculty members have traditional-church backgrounds: Thomas Bosleeper (Union Seminary), Reformed Church in America; Warren Lewis (New York Theological Seminary), Disciples of Christ; Sebastian Matczak (Sorbonne) and Frank Elmo (Fordham), both Catholics. Boslooper is teaching biblical studies.

A recent Gallup Poll shows that 40 per cent of Americans believe it is not morally wrong for an incurably ill person to commit suicide.

In an informal survey by U. S. Catholic, 57 per cent of the respondents said they would approve the ordination of women to the Catholic priesthood.

Bill Thomas, an American black who is the pastor of a French-speaking Baptist congregation in Brussels, is conducting an evangelistic campaign this month in Berlin—reportedly the first time a black has held such meetings in a German church. During the recent Eurofest ’75 he baptized two South African whites in his church, a service witnessed by nine others from Cape Town.

The Chicago-based 71,000-member Evangelical Covenant Church of America exceeded its $7.5 million expansion-fund goal, with reports not yet received from 100 of the denomination’s 532 congregations. The amount was pledged by about 20,000 members and is in addition to the $21.5 million contributed for the regular 1974 budget.

Some 350 delegates attended the biennial convention of Dignity, an organization of Catholic homosexuals devoted to creating greater acceptance of homosexuals in the church and to providing pastoral care for them. The Boston-based group has chapters in forty cities, according to Holy Cross priest Thomas Oddo, Dignity’s national secretary.

A three-member military panel ruled that Air Force sergeant Leonard P. Matlovich as an admitted homosexualis unfit to serve in the military. President Robert V. Moss of the 1.8-million-member United Church of Christ filed an affidavit in his defense. It reflected official UCC positions upholding civil liberties of homosexuals. Moss also suggested that the Bible’s “negative judgments of homosexuality” may not be meant for our time.

Melodyland, the charismatic church and seminary complex in Anaheim, California, has petitioned the U. S. Patent and Trademark Office to cancel the Melodyland trademark registered in August by Motown Record Corporation in Detroit. Motown, which is using the Melodyland name on its rock and country western record lines, rejected an earlier request by the church to cease use of the name. Pastor Ralph Wilkerson says the church paid $210,000 for exclusive right to the trademark when it purchased the bankrupt Melodyland theater for $1.2 milion in 1969. Some of Motown’s records deal with themes of vulgarity and promiscuity—“diametrically opposite to [our] recordings, publications, and community activities,” declares Wilkerson.

The closing of the Cokesbury book store in New York City on October 1 ended 171 years of Methodist retail book-selling in the city. Declining sales, rising costs, and the need for an ever-increasing subsidy ($85,000 this year) were blamed. Cokesbury meanwhile opened stores in three smaller cities, bringing the number of its retail outlets to thirty.

Guru Maharaj Ji, the luxury-loving teen-age leader of the Divine Light sect, lost another disciple. Mahatma Vijayanand walked out amid a flurry of press releases. He said fifteen cars are too many for anyone, and he also objected to the motorcycles, motor-boats, plus hotel rooms, and elegant meals while “people in India are starving.” Sour grapes, suggested the guru’s press spokesman, who indicated the Mahatma was upset at being assigned to work in a Divine Light grocery store.

POETIC LICENSE

California is one of the states offering custom license plates for autos, and a number of church people are taking advantage of the offer to get their message across, according to a Religious News Service story. For example, someone displays JN 316 on his plate. Dick Mills of Melodyland Christian Center in Anaheim asserts his trinitarian belief with 3N ONE. Evangelist Jim Hampton has 4 R LORD and a Santa Barbara nun displays 4 JESUS. Businessman-author George Otis signed up for BIBLE, and a Los Angeles rabbi sports TORAH.

A Presbyterian layman in Tustin exhorts HARK YE. Lutheran clergyman Quentin P. Garman of San Diego identifies himself as PASTOR, and Eoiscopal priest John Gill of North Hollywood has FATHER on his plate. REL ED may not make sense to many unless they know the car belongs to Virgie Murray, religion editor of the Los Angeles Sentinel.

Finally, there’s the plate belonging to Lutheran pastor John Sorenson of El Cajon: O MY GOD.

DEATHS

LEWIS WEBSTER JONES, 75, Episcopal lay leader, a former president of Rutgers University and of the National Conference of Christians and Jews; in Sarasota, Florida, of pneumonia.

GEORGE KETCHAM, 82, Prominent Presbyterian layman and long-time head of the nation’s biggest fund-raising organization (with many church accounts); in Pittsburgh.

OTTO PAUL KRETZMANN, 74, Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod leader and former president and chancellor of Valparaiso University, America’s largest Lutheran school; in Valparaiso, Indiana.

World Scene

Leaders of the 209,000-member Evangelical (Lutheran) Church Mekane Yesus in Ethiopia rejected proposals for a missionary moratorium but affirmed that future planning should reflect the goal of “self-reliance.” Citing widespread confusion about Christian socialism, they released a statement affirming that the Gospel is God’s power that saves from eternal damnation and from exploitation and oppression for his service. It can “never be replaced by any of the ideologies invented by men throughout the centuries,” they declared.

President Idi Amin of Uganda, a Muslim, met with Pope Paul last month in a meeting described as cordial. The Pope said many gracious things about Uganda but had no direct praise for Amin, who expelled sixteen Italian Catholic missionaries in July. Amin accused the missionaries of writing nasty things about him in letters to their superiors. Having discussed earlier the dispute with Italian and Vatican officials, Amin assured the Pope that foreign missionaries would always be welcome in Uganda.

Bishop Laszlo Ravasz of Budapest, recalled from retirement to head the Hungarian Reformed Church for a brief time after the 1956 revolution, died in early August at age 92. News of his death was apparently delayed. Ravasz was harassed by both Nazi and Communist rulers for his strong stand against oppression. In retirement he produced a modern translation of the Hungarian New Testament.

Explo ’74, Campus Crusade for Christ’s evangelism training conference in Seoul last year, has done something for the Korean churches that participated, according to Crusade findings. Attendance is up. One church youth group has grown from eight to 150 who attend regularly, and a third of these attend a weekly all-night prayer meeting. Korean Crusade staffers have hosted more than 20,000 in monthly training conferences, according to Crusade sources.

During the ten-year-long New Life for All program in northern Nigeria, the Sudan United Mission-related Church of Christ in the Sudan has recorded a growth of 400 per cent. New churches since the early 1960s number 660. More than 1,100 communities have preaching centers. Constituents have trebled to 153,000, and baptized members have quadrupled to nearly 27,000.

The Salvation Army works in eighty-two countries, according to its 1975 yearbook. The Army lists nearly 17,000 active officers, publishes 114 periodicals from Australia to Zaire, and maintains numerous social rehabilitation centers, hospitals, and schools around the world. In 1973 it fed 2.6 million people at 213 food distribution centers.

University students have the highest incidence of suicide in West Germany, according to a study by a University of Heidelberg theologian.

Presbyterian theologian J. Davis McCaughey, 61, will become the first president of the proposed Uniting Church of Australia when it is launched June 2, 1976. The merger of the Congregational, Methodist, and Presbyterian churches in Australia is to take place on that date.

One of the latest groups to apply for membership in the World Evangelical Fellowship is the Philippine Council of Evangelical Churches. The PCEC is composed of independent churches, nine denominations with more than 1.000 churches, service agencies, and eighteen Bible schools and colleges.

Seven denominations in Finland have 522 foreign missionaries working in fifty-one countries, according to a Finnish church report. Most of the missionaries are Lutherans (253) and Pentecostal (211).

British Methodist leaders are concerned. Membership is now 557,000, down nearly 44,000 in the last three years, and there were losses of about 50,000 in the preceding triennium.

A new hymnbook with 202 hymns in twenty-five languages is being prepared by the World Council of Churches for introduction at the WCC’s Fifth Assembly in Nairobi in November.

Christian Aid, a leading British relief agency, reports a record income of more than $9 million in its last fiscal year.

Alcoholism is on the rise in Switzerland. There are 130,000 registered alcoholics, and alcohol figures centrally in 23 per cent of all divorces and 30 per cent of male psychiatric admissions, according to a recent study. Alcohol is blamed for at least ten deaths every day in the little country.

Angels—God’s Secret Agents: that’s the title of Billy Graham’s new book. I have read it, and I think it’s the best available on this subject, one that not many writers have tackled. Consider giving it as a Christmas present. Already, at least one person has found Christ by reading it.

I thank the many readers who responded to our invitation to help us rename our “Layman and His Faith” column. We received some 250 suggestions. Starting this issue, the column will be called “The Witness Stand.” That name was suggested by Allan Andrews of Manchester, Massachusetts, and we have sent him a year’s extension of his subscription. Edith Schaeffer will continue to be on the witness stand—for Christ—every two weeks.

With this issue CHRISTIANITY TODAY begins its twentieth year. We thank God for bringing us to this milestone, and for letting us continue a difficult job in a difficult age. Our prospects are bright, and the opportunity for ministry is greater than ever. Our operating budget is on target; we expect to end the year in the black, assuming that circulation, advertising, and gift income continue as projected. God has provided all along the way, and we believe he will do so in the twentieth or the two-hundredth year.

For the first time since it emerged in the 1960s as a potent force in the American religious scene, the modern charismatic movement shows signs of severe internal stress. Indeed, long looked upon as having the best potential for uniting Christians in and out of the major denominations, it now is coming apart in some quarters. Here is what is happening:

• A dispute is taking place over issues of authority and discipleship. Powerful figures in the movement have built up a chain of command linking many local groups around the country to themselves, in some cases involving the relaying of tithes up through the system. Other prominent individuals believe groups should bind themselves together in mutual submission at the local level only. Such groups usually have “elders” or “shepherds” (or, among Catholics, “coordinators”) to whom the disciples submit. Still other leaders contend, however, that the only one to whom Christians need to submit spiritually is Christ.

• A number of leaders are expressing concern that the main guiding forces of the charismatic movement seem to emphasize discipleship, “teaching,” and “community” at the expense of evangelism as a top priority. These leaders see a specter of stagnation hovering over the scene.

• The ecstasy of one-in-the-Spirit fellowship is wearing off among people who have been in the movement for a long time, and emotional love-and-worship sessions are increasingly giving way to serious Bible study. As a result, many charismatic Christians are discovering—or rediscovering—doctrinal distinctives, the teachings that make one an Episcopalian or a Presbyterian or a Lutheran. Thus denominational fellowships of charismatics are burgeoning. Catholic charismatics tend to mingle with other Catholic charismatics, and where groups have Catholic leadership there is heavy seepage of Catholic tradition and dogma into program content and style. Exit the Protestants.

The topic being talked about most at the present time is the authority-discipleship dispute. At the center of the controversy is Christian Growth Ministries (CGM) with its six globe-traveling leaders: Bob Mumford, Derek Prince, Don Basham, Ern Baxter, John Poole, and Charles Simpson. Arrayed against them in varying degrees are people like Pat Robertson of Christian Broadcasting Network, Charles Farah of Oral Roberts University, Episcopal priest Dennis Bennett (a father of the modern charismatic movement), David J. “Mr. Pentecost” du Plessis, Kathryn Kuhlman, Juan Carlos Ortiz, and national leaders of the Full Gospel Businessmen’s Committee International.

CGM, based in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, sponsors an extensive teaching ministry through conferences, publications, and tape cassettes. If CGM has a chief leader it is Bob Mumford. At 45, he is described by many as the one who has had the most significant influence on the charismatic movement.

Mumford, who hails from Atlantic City, was converted while in the Navy through an Assembly of God contact on the West Coast. He graduated from Northeastern Bible College in Green Lane, Pennsylvania, the University of Delaware, and Reformed Episcopal Seminary in Philadelphia. He was a pastor for a while and taught at Elim Bible School in New York before striking out as an itinerate. In the late 1960s he moved with equal ease—and acceptance—among Jesus people in remote wilderness areas, well-to-do people from liturgical churches, and the masses of Middle Americans who packed into Full Gospel meetings in those years. He came across as a Bible teacher—not a healer or evangelist—at a time when the charismatic movement was long on experience and short on content, and when many mainstream evangelical Bible expositors were blasting the movement.

In the early days of the movement those who had received the so-called baptism of the Spirit came together from their varied backgrounds perhaps once a week, usually in a restaurant or hired hall. Here they would sing choruses (some of them not reduced to the printed page until years later), pray with outstretched hands, share testimonies, drink in a message in tongues or prophesy, and listen to a talk on some aspect of the Spirit-filled life. At the close of the service they could, if they wished, request prayer for healing or other special need—with the laying on of hands by leaders (always male). Willing newcomers were coached in acquiring the gift of tongues, usually interpreted as the sign of Spirit baptism. The same general format is still followed today in many meetings. There are no structures other than the officers needed to keep the machinery oiled.

But with the advent of the Jesus movement and with the exodus of many charismatics from churches where they weren’t wanted or weren’t “fed,” a large number of people found themselves desiring more than a weekly or monthly pep meeting. Thus evolved ongoing Bible-study and prayer groups, “covenant” communities (where members pledge themselves to mutual nurture, often living under the same roof), and the like—along with the need for a trained leadership, structures, and discipline. Many groups became de facto churches. Mumford himself became spiritual father of such a group in Ft. Lauderdale.

To Mumford, discipleship is uppermost. The goal of discipleship is to effect a change in behavior. It is achieved through being trained by a man (not a woman) with high spiritual motivation and who has been commissioned for the task by the Lord—a shepherd or elder. Discipleship involves submission to the shepherd as he points the way—and points out flaws in behavior. The shepherd constantly chips away at the raw material, attempting to create a disciple patterned after the biblical model.

The shepherd-submission concept as practiced in the movement is not totally Mumford’s brainchild, but he had a lot to do with refining and promoting it. Some of his recent thoughts were gleaned from Argentine renewal leader Juan Carlos Ortiz.

When local discipleship groups grow much beyond a dozen or so members, they are divided. Additional leaders are then appointed. Some travel to Ft. Lauderdale to receive training directly from Mumford and his colleagues. Middle-level leaders often travel to other localities, establishing groups. Lines of responsibility and authority nevertheless lead back to Ft. Lauderdale. Tithes are split between local and regional staffers, sometimes with national leaders. In the chain of command, the six CGM top-level leaders see themselves as apostles.

Those being discipled must consult with their shepherds about many personal decisions. In some cases, shepherds forbid marriages, reject school and vocational plans, demand confession of secret sins.

Mumford says he has not seen the established churches producing discipies. Therefore, he confides to some, God must be doing a new thing—turning away from the churches and toward the shepherd-type groups. An amillennialist, he believes God is going to set up his government on earth through the (renewed) Church.

In 1973, Pastor Dick Coleman of the Westside Baptist Church in Leesburg, Florida, organized a “Shepherds’ Conference” where small-group leaders could come and receive inspiration and instruction for their tasks. (Not all groups are related to CGM.) Last year’s conference was held at Montreat, North Carolina, and the program—as this year’s—reflected substantial CGM input.

Criticism of shepherd-group practices surfaced this year, mainly among older charismatics. In a memo to his staff in May, broadcaster Pat Robertson declared, “Our board of directors is unalterably opposed to a charismatic dictatorship where self-appointed elders begin to take unscriptural control of the lives of others, thereby usurping the role of the Holy Spirit and Jesus Christ himself.” In a later memo he banned CGM speakers from his fifty-four radio and television outlets across the country, and he ordered all tapes of their messages in stock destroyed. He also broadcast an attack against CGM. A sharp exchange of letters followed between Robertson and Mumford.

A frequent criticism is the aloofness of CGM groups from other charismatic groups in many communities.

In August, a secret meeting of charismatic leadership was held in Minneapolis to discuss the situation. The thirty participants represented a veritable who’s who in the movement. Robertson, Episcopalian Bennett, and the Full Gospel Businessmen’s representatives pressed hard against Mumford and the other CGM leaders there. Nothing was really agreed upon except to meet again sometime. Robertson was mildly rebuked for his public handling of the matter, but majority sentiment ran against the CGM men. Ortiz said he believes in “horizontal” relationships among local members of groups, not trans-local “vertical” ones. (In plurality, there is equality, Ortiz teaches; in plurality there are differences, replies Mumford.)

At last month’s Shepherds’ Conference in Kansas City, Missouri, the CGM leaders resisted attempts to turn the platform into a forum for divergent views. Charles Farah was unable to read his statement calling on the Mumford coalition to lay aside the trans-local chain of command and the use of the word “church” employed by some CGM groups. Issues were discussed in seminar and question-answer sessions, however, by the 4,500 men.

CGM’s John Poole, a Philadelphia pastor, acknowledges that some criticism is justified: “our quickness to talk before testing, our difficulty in exerting corrective authority where we have influence but don’t want it.” He indicated that the CGM leaders, who have met several times to discuss strategy, will try to cut some of the umbilical ties to Ft. Lauderdale and concentrate on building a showcase model of biblical discipleship at the local level.

SOMETHING IN COMMON

Cornelia Wallace, the wife of Alabama governor George C. Wallace, and Ann B. Davis, the actress known as Schultzy on “The Robert Cummings Show” and Alice on “The Brady Bunch,” have something in common: They both are Christians who have experienced speaking in tongues but who prefer to emphasize other aspects of the Christian life.

Mrs. Wallace is a former Baptist who attends Trinity Presbyterian Church in Montgomery, Alabama. She recently told a southern Alabama charismatic-fellowship audience that she had prayed in tongues with evangelist Oral Roberts while Wallace was recuperating from wounds inflicted in an assassination attempt. Mrs. Wallace said she had committed her life to Christ earlier. An aide says she is not a member of any charismatic group.

Miss Davis is a member of St. David’s Episcopal Church in North Hollywood. She underwent spiritual renewal after joining a midweek Bible-study group four years ago, soon after James Fenwick arrived as pastor. Fenwick is a booster of Campus Crusade for Christ materials and methods.

Miss Davis began giving testimonies of her faith in Christ wherever she went, and she searched out other Christians whenever she was away from home. On one such Occasion she was introduced to the charismatic experience. However, she prefers to play down the gift of tongues in favor of joy in the Spirit.

To others wishing to discover a full, new life, Miss Davis recommends “hanging around where the Word of God is taught. Seek and you shall find.”

Rebuked

Taking its harshest action since criticizing the late Bishop James A. Pike in 1966 for making “irresponsible” utterances, the House of Bishops of the Episcopal Church last month censured three of its members and voted to “decry” the action of another.

In a three-part resolution the bishops voted 119 to 18 with seven abstentions to repudiate the actions of fellow bishops who had ordained women to the priesthood in violation of church policy. They voted 118 to 8 with eight abstentions to censure Robert L. DeWitt, resigned bishop of Pennsylvania; Daniel N. Corrigan, retired bishop of Colorado; and Edward E. Welles, retired bishop of West Missouri. The three last year ordained eleven women in Philadelphia in a service the House of Bishops later ruled was invalid. Disciplinary charges were not pursued after an inquiry panel decided it had no jurisdiction. The panel ruled that the case involved doctrinal issues.

The bishops decided to decry the action of George W. Barrett, 67, resigned bishop of Rochester (New York) who lives in California, rather than to censure him because to do so might prejudice possible ecclesiastical court action that may be brought against him. The action passed 116 to 16 with twelve abstentions. Barrett earlier last month ordained four women at the Church of St. Stephen and the Incarnation in Washington, D. C.—ignoring the objections of Bishop William F. Creighton of Washington. Specific charges were reportedly being drawn up against Barrett by several other bishops. Meanwhile, Bishop Robert C. Rusack of the Diocese of Los Angeles revoked Barrett’s license to officiate at church rites in the diocese.

Censure has little effect other than public rebuke, but spokesmen said it was the only action short of a full-fledged doctrinal trial that the bishops could take. Many of the controversially ordained women at the invitation of some rectors and churches are performing priestly functions. Disputes over these actions, however, must be thrashed out at the local diocesan level.

Captive In Chad

Paul Horala of Strasbourg, France, a missionary of the Sudan United Mission, was still being held hostage last month after his capture in June by anti-government militants in northeastern Chad. They ransacked the mission station and stole a vehicle. Mrs. Pauline Horala, who returned to France after the incident in the African nation, said she has received two letters from her husband, the latest dated July 31 saying the rebels had not yet received orders from their leaders as to what to do with their captive.

The Black Baptists: Handling History

Historic roots of black Baptists were a top topic of speechmakers as three major conventions met simultaneously in September. Featured at the St. Louis meeting of the largest group, the National Baptist Convention, U.S.A., Incorporated, was President Gerald Ford.

Speaking on a Bicentennial theme, the President lauded the contributions that individual blacks and their churches have made to America.

Before the nation’s chief executive was welcomed to the NBCUSA’s platform, Illinois state senate leader Cecil A. Partee and also a Los Angeles pastor delivered speeches urging black participation in the Bicentennial. The recommedations were contrary to advice that has been coming from some black activists who oppose the celebration.

In Atlantic City, New Jersey, the Progressive National Baptist Convention took the position that black Americans should join in the observance of the country’s two-hundredth birthday, but only if the emphasis is on repentance. President Nelson H. Smith of Birmingham asserted: “I believe that the role that blacks should take in the Bicentennial is one of reminding our nation of her sacred promises in the Declaration of Independence.”

The 5,000 PNBC delegates at Atlantic City voted to stage a pageant in Washington, D. C., next September to spell out the contributions of blacks to the building of America. In another move related to their history, the “Progressives” launched tentative plans for a special centennial celebration in 1980 to commemorate the founding of the National Baptist organization from which the three conventions have developed.

Two of the three held a joint session in Atlantic City. A caravan of some twenty buses and 100 automobiles brought delegates from the Philadelphia site of the meeting of the (“unincorporated”) National Baptist Convention of America. Among the speakers at the joint session was Pennsylvania governor Milton J. Shapp, an aspirant for the Democratic Presidential nomination. He blasted Ford administration policies.

NBCUSA, the most conservative of the three groups, elected its president, Joseph H. Jackson of Chicago, to an unprecedented twenty-second term. An estimated 12,500 delegates rose to give him a unanimous vote.

In another action thought to be without precedent, the NBCUSA elected Cecilia N. Adkins executive director of its Nashville-based Sunday School Publishing Board. Mrs. Adkins, a board executive for fifteen years, is believed to be the first woman in the United States to head a major denominational publishing house.

While no current statistics are available, the NBCUSA claims to be the largest of the black church bodies, with an estimated 6.5 million members. The NBCA, which met in Philadelphia, claims 2.5 million, and the Progressive convention has an estimated 500,000.

New Readers Get The Word

Thanks to a scientifically designed program of the American Bible Society, millions more have read Scripture for themselves the past two years. Spokesmen say the society’s “Good News for New Readers” literature (see October 12, 1973, page 60) has been received at the grass roots with much enthusiasm. In some countries, Bible distribution groups are having a hard time keeping up with the demand.

The program is aimed at the growing number of newly literate people around the world, most of whom have nothing to read, let alone the Bible. Studies show that about half the people who learn to read will lose the skill unless they get access to reading material. It is said that there will be an estimated one billion new readers by the year 2000.

The Scripture selections aimed at new readers were the fruit of nearly a decade of Bible society research and experimentation. They are in special translations that are easily understood. The type faces, format, line breaks, and accompanying illustrations are carefully chosen in line with the discoveries of what communicates best. The selections are being produced in a series divided into five levels of successive reading difficulty. Translation work has been undertaken in a total of 209 languages, and selections have been printed and are already distributed in 106. One consultant contends that “this program might well be the most important and significant contribution to the growth and the development of the Christian church in the past century.”

Togetherness Tonic For Growing Pains

Rapid expansion of the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA) has brought with it some growing pains, but the two-year-old denomination tried to soothe them with the tonic of togetherness in September. Commissioners (delegates) from the PCA’s 386 congregations met in Jackson, Mississippi, for the third General Assembly, to take stock of the growth and to oil the new body’s organizational machinery.

Started mostly by people leaving the Presbyterian Church in the U. S. (Southern), the denomination now has congregations in twenty states. Stated clerk Morton Smith, a member of the Reformed Seminary faculty in Jackson, estimated that as many as a third of the ministers now enrolled have had no connection with the PCUS. Among the new presbyteries accepted at the Jackson meeting was one in Pennsylvania.

Smith reported that communicant strength is now at about 60,000. Other leaders believe that when the official statistics are compiled at the end of the year there will be 75,000 on the rolls.

Also growing has been the church’s overseas missionary force, with fifty-five people under appointment to twenty nations. The unique policy of the Mission to the World Committee, whereby some personnel are appointed to serve with non-denominational agencies (such as Wycliffe Bible Translators and Greater Europe Mission) was approved overwhelmingly by the Assembly. There was little debate after the committee assured the court that all cooperating agencies had agreed to allow PCA personnel freedom to teach the Reformed faith. While there was a scattering of “no” votes, no one took the trouble (as some did in 1974) to ask the clerk to record his negative vote. One abstention was recorded. The Assembly did caution the committee to emphasize church planting and to balance the number of support missionaries with more preachers. It called for appointment of at least ten ministers for overseas duty during the next year.

The closest vote in the meeting was a 286 to 135 tally limiting assembly agencies to spending no more than the amounts in their respective budgets. The 1976 budget of $2,593,196 includes $1,443,200 (56 per cent) for overseas operations. Opponents of the spending ceiling wanted to allow agencies, especially Mission to the World, the option of expanding their work if additional funds should become available. The prevailing view, however, was that the church’s top court should maintain control over how its money is spent. In 1974 the denominational agencies spent $920,585, with more than half of that going to the overseas committee.

One of the overseas visitors who addressed the gathering was the powerful president of the Presbyterian Church of Brazil, Boanerges Ribeiro. On behalf of his denomination, which has not established official ties with PCA but which has cut its ties with the United Presbyterian Church in the U. S. A., he extended greetings and expressed an interest in exchanging communications.

On the ecumenical front, the Assembly agreed to be a founding member of a North American Presbyterian and Reformed Council. It is the fifth denomination to authorize the organization. Others who took the step previously are the Christian Reformed Church, Orthodox Presbyterian Church, Reformed Presbyterian Church (Evangelical Synod), and the Reformed Presbyterian Church of North America. The Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church is expected to have official observer status at the initial meeting of the council later this month.

The Assembly by-passed some possibly heated debates by delaying final action on a number of proposals. It sent proposed constitutional documents to an editorial committee for additional work, and several other items were referred for study.

Moderator of the Assembly was a senior elder in Jackson’s First Presbyterian, circuit court judge Leon Hendrick. He was an early leader in the movement to found the denomination and was a member of the twelve-man steering committee that brought it into existence. The veteran of many a stormy session in civil and ecclesiastical courts said when the Assembly was over that it had been “blessed by its unanimity.”

ASLAN THE LION

Aslan, as most lovers of literature know, is the name of the lion mentioned prominently in C. S. Lewis’s Narnia tales. But now there is a real Aslan, and he is a prominent Lion too—the recently elected president of Lions International, Harry J. Aslan of Kingsburg, California. Aslan (of California) first heard of Aslan (of Narnia) several years ago when his wife gave him a Lewis book to read during a hospital stay. A Presbyterian admirer of Billy Graham, the world’s chief Lion says he occasionally gets some good-natured ribbing about the coincidence of names. Interestingly, his ancestors came from Armenia, where Aslan means “son of a lion.”

Wctu: Boo To Booze (And Betty, Too)

Meeting in Glorietta, New Mexico, for its 101st annual convention, the Women’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) expressed concern on a variety of issues in addition to the traditional target, alcohol. One resolution criticized First Lady Betty Ford for her televised comments on pre-marital sex and marijuana use. Delegates deplored her remarks on sex and expressed regret for her suggestion that marijuana is “something young people have to experience, like your first beer or your first cigarette.”

Other resolutions supported proposals before Congress to curb profanity and explicit sex on television, to provide that advertising of alcoholic beverages not be a tax deductible expense, and to limit the jurisdiction of courts to enter judgments on voluntary prayer in public schools.

No precise membership figures are disclosed, but Mrs. Herman Stanley, the president, told reporters that the WCTU has about a quarter million members and is experiencing “healthy” and gradual growth. The convention at the Southern Baptist conference center in Glorietta attracted some 650 delegates.