In Nebraska, the War between Church and State Rages On

Fundamentalists refuse to bend in their six-year battle against state regulation of church schools.

The Cass County Jail in Plattsmouth, Nebraska, stands near the geographic center of the freest nation in the world. But since last November 23, that jail has been home for six fundamentalist Christian fathers, held in contempt of court on a matter of their faith. Whatever the legal merits of the issue, more and more people are focusing on its larger implications, and the situation threatens to worsen before it improves.

The men refuse to testify in a case involving the Faith Baptist Church School in Louisville, Nebraska, which their children attended until recently. Their wives fled Nebraska after warrants were issued for their arrests. They took with them their 23 children, fearing the children would be placed in foster homes. The church’s pastor, Everett Sileven, and his daughter, Tresa Schmidt, a teacher at the school, also have fled the state.

Nebraska is one of ten states that exercise some form of control over private schools. Some 20 churches that operate schools there are fighting state regulation in court. They maintain that their schools are part of their ministries. Submitting to state approval, they say, would in principle give the state the power to control their schools and thus their churches.

Faith Baptist Church in Louisville started its school in 1977 without government approval. Criminal charges were filed against Sileven the following year. But the church stood its ground, and in 1979 a Nebraska court ordered the school closed. In 1981, the Nebraska Supreme Court upheld the lower court order, and the U.S. Supreme Court declined to review the case. Nevertheless, the school remained open.

In 1982, Sileven was jailed for contempt, and the church was padlocked (CT, Nov. 12, 1982, p. 54). In their latest attempt to force the school into compliance, Cass County officials arrested parents whose children attend it.

On January 18, Sileven returned to his church, daring law enforcement authorities to arrest him. But county sheriff Fred Tesch didn’t take the bait. “We have more important things to do,” he said. Sileven left the state a few days later.

Through the years, the opponents in this conflict have been bloodied, but they remain unbowed. The state still insists on approving teachers and curriculum. State officials contend that allowing schools to operate free of regulation would set a dangerous precedent. They fear that if the door is opened to fundamentalists, any group could set up its own school with its own requirements. Officials want to ensure that Nebraska’s school-age children receive a quality education.

Fundamentalists generally concede that the state has the right to regulate health and safety standards, and to verify, through attendance records and achievement tests, that children are receiving an adequate education. But they draw the line at state certification of teachers and curriculum.

Lincoln County attorney Charles Kandt, who is prosecuting a Baptist church school in North Platte, Nebraska, calls both sides in the conflict “Don Quixotes.”

“They think they’re charging dragons,” he says. “They’re really charging windmills.” Kandt says the fears of both the state and the church are unreasonable. Either side could give in, he says, and nothing would change.

Those in Louisville disagree. The jailed fathers see themselves as prisoners of an all-out war against nationwide government control.

“The education issue is only part of it,” says 54-year-old Ralph Liles, one of the prisoners. “If things continue going the way they are, in less than five years we’ll lose our freedom in America. Things will be worse here than in Russia.”

Courts in other states have ruled in favor of churches that operate schools. However, leaders of the movement in Louisville believe that as Louisville goes, so will go the nation. They have billed this tiny town of 1,000 as the final bastion of American freedom. As a result, hundreds of fundamentalists from across the country have dropped everything to go there.

The out-of-state visitors have established headquarters inside the church, where metaphors of war are casually tossed about. Hundreds have come to lobby in the state legislature, to rally outside the courthouse and the jail, to help run the school for the few students who remain, and to raise money. Phone bills in December and January averaged nearly $1,000 a day.

The public relations effort has gained national attention. In December, Sen. Jesse Helms (R-N.C.) offered his assistance to Nebraska Governor Robert Kerrey. U.S. Representative George Hansen (R-Idaho) has called the arrest of the parents an “embarrassment to the country.” At Hansen’s urging, Clarence Pendleton, chairman of the U.S. Civil Rights Commission, visited Nebraska last month. Presidential candidate Jesse Jackson and Moral Majority leader Jerry Falwell have considered a joint trip to Nebraska.

Fundamentalists who have come to Louisville say they won’t leave until the war is won. However, most Nebraska pastors who are battling the state over school certification think the outsiders should go home.

“There’s no question that we’ve been hurt by some of the antics that have gone on in Louisville,” says pastor Robert Gelsthorpe. Gelsthorpe’s North Platte Baptist Church School, like Faith Baptist, continues to operate in violation of court orders. But he objects to such Louisville tactics as staged media events, threatening letters, and middle-of-the-night phone calls to legislators and state education officials.

“We have to do something about the problem,” he says. “But we have to make sure that what we do is right, that it’s honoring to Christ.” Gelsthorpe quotes one Nebraska official who said, “Jesus would not call me at three in the morning.”

Pastor Carl Godwin, head of the Park West Christian School in Lincoln, agrees with Gelsthorpe. “We used to feel we all had to stay together in this,” he says. “But how can we stay together when someone on the team keeps acting up?”

Godwin says Nebraska legislators do not look favorably upon muscle-flexing fundamentalists, especially when they come from other states. Neither do residents of the proud Cornhusker State appreciate their state being compared to Nazi Germany, a common epithet in Louisville.

Gelsthorpe has avoided such antagonistic measures in North Platte. Although his legal situation may become as serious as Sileven’s in Louisville, his compassionate, friendly attitude has made a lot of difference. His school recessed seven times to avoid confrontations with authorities. His legal opponents lauded his strenuous efforts at peaceful negotiation. When those efforts failed, Gelsthorpe was sentenced to report to the sheriff’s office from 9 A.M. to 3 P.M. every day his school stays open. In addition, he and his church are being fined $400 per school day.

Sheriff Duane Deterding of North Platte has taken a liking to “Pastor Bob.” On occasion, police have called on Gelsthorpe to counsel troubled youth. North Platte’s residents and the daily newspaper there have stood behind the pastor. But in Louisville, the news media and the public are generally hostile toward Sileven and his church.

Gelsthorpe says fundamentalists in Louisville have acted out of the same frustration he is beginning to feel. His strategy of “nonaggressive resistance,” as he calls it, has yet to yield fruit. By June, he will owe $54,000 in fines. If that is not paid, prosecuting attorney Kandt may take action to foreclose on the church, something the prosecutor doesn’t like to think about.

“I’m in favor of any school that teaches the gospel,” says Kandt, who was educated in a Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod school. “But if I don’t uphold the law, I’m undermining the system that gives us the freedoms we enjoy. It’s like an absurd fantasy. Everyone is participating in what is leading toward an undesirable end, and nobody can stop.”

For his part, Gelsthorpe says he can’t compromise. “I don’t regard my actions as willful disobedience to the state, but as willful obedience to my Father,” he says. “If we give up our convictions, we give up our consciences. If we give up our consciences, we give up our lives.”

Like Kandt and Gelsthorpe, District Judge John Murphy, who handed down the sentence, feels he had no choice. Before sentencing Gelsthorpe in December, he cited the Nebraska Supreme Court’s ruling against the Louisville church school. He said Gelsthorpe’s case was no different.

Murphy said as a citizen he would be happy to see the law changed. But he added, “I’m not acting as a citizen, but as a representative of the judicial branch.”

After his visit to Nebraska, the Civil Rights Commission’s Pendleton said the state’s education regulations might violate First Amendment rights. But for now, he said, the state would have to resolve the problem.

The only immediate hope for relief lies with the Nebraska legislature, which will be in session through March. Fundamentalists regularly have worked with legislators, trying to hammer out a compromise.

Many in Louisville reserve little hope that the legislature will act. They point out that the Nebraska chapter of the National Education Association (NEA) helped finance the campaigns of Governor Kerrey and of several legislators. The NEA has stood in firm opposition to the Christian schools.

Godwin, however, is optimistic that a four-member commission appointed by the governor to look into the matter will draft a successful compromise bill. If the legislature fails to act, the hope for Nebraska church schools could rest squarely on the shoulders of constitutional lawyer William Ball. Ball has an impressive record on similar cases in other states. He is representing Godwin’s school, and finds it an encouraging sign that the school has been allowed to remain open while the Nebraska Supreme Court considers hearing an appeal. A prehearing officer recommended in December that the state high court give the case a full airing.

Ball says Godwin’s case differs from Sileven’s. In declining to hear the latter case, the U.S. Supreme Court cited the lack of a “substantial federal question.” In Godwin’s case, Ball says, he intends to base his arguments almost exclusively on federal issues, namely violations of the establishment clause of the First Amendment.

Until the controversy is resolved, it will continue to consume state money, legislative time, and emotional energy. The end, whenever it comes, can’t come too soon for the worn and weary citizens of Nebraska.

RANDY FRAMEin Louisville

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