http://www.nbcsandiego.com/news/local/135M-Awarded-to-Bible-Teacher-Gonzalo-Campos-Alleged-Abuse-Victim-Jose-Lopez-281031832.html#ixzz3HjsqesKJ
Friday, October 31, 2014
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Friday, October 24, 2014
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Former Jehovah’s Witness lifts lid on stifling, doom-obsessed religion
http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/opinion/former-jehovahs-witness-lifts-lid-on-stifling-doomobsessed-religion/story-fni0ffsx-1227092921890
Former Jehovah’s Witness Graeme Hammond.
THE invasion of 70,000 neatly-dressed, well-mannered Jehovah’s Witnesses on Melbourne streets and public transport this weekend for their international convention will be hard to miss.
For anyone woken by them from Saturday morning slumber, Jehovah’s Witnesses are just one of life’s annoyances. They have an answer for everything and rarely take “no” for an answer.
But for most householders, they remain a mystery: why do they keep this up? What drives them to keep going week after week for the same curt dismissal?
As someone who spent too long inside this stifling, doom-obsessed religion, I can tell you the answer lies in two powerful forces that control the lives of each of the world’s eight million Jehovah’s Witnesses: a conviction that God will soon destroy “wicked mankind” on a global and bloody scale, (sparing, naturally, just them) and also the unquestioning acceptance of the religion’s New York leadership.
Those leaders require that all Witnesses, from children to the frail aged, devote their lives to proselytising in the hope of gathering millions more into their fold before the divine hammer blow of Armageddon.
But the command is not only to “preach” (usually a forlorn offer of a magazine or leaflet); they must also hand in monthly reports detailing the hours they spent “in the field” and how many calls they made.
The message at their meetings is relentless and laden with guilt and fear: keep on preaching or you, too, will die at Armageddon.
Since the 1920s — when hard-headed Watch Tower Society president Joseph F. Rutherford whipped a once quaint Adventist religion into a regimented, tightly disciplined publishing and recruiting organisation — the church’s belief has always been that the best way to keep members from straying is to keep them busy.
More meetings! More campaigns! More conventions!
But here’s the contradiction. Back then when my heart was in it, my Saturday mornings were often all about perfecting the soft knock, half-hoping no one would hear me.
And I was not alone. For most of those I paired up with on Saturdays, an unopened door was a good door.
When it did swing open, revealing a clearly irritated resident, I felt like saying, “Hey, I hate this as much as you do!”
We were instructed to call at every home and return later if they were out. If they weren’t warned about the coming cataclysm, their blood would be on our hands. But it was plainly futile.
No one wanted us to call and no one believed the world was about to end.
When I joined in the mid-1980s, in those worrying days of imminent nuclear war between Reagan and Gorbachev, Jehovah’s Witnesses offered a positive, secure future.
It was a religion that sneered at the sentimentality, mysticism and tolerant forgiveness of orthodox religion and offered instead a rational, numerical analysis of Bible chronology that proved the world was in the last days.
I was curious, ventured in, got smothered by the “love bomb” … and stayed.
But back then (and this is how I console myself now) there was no internet and given a prohibition on delving into “apostate” literature that questioned their beliefs, there was no easy way for me to learn that the religion had a long history of building up hopes, then rewriting the past when the promised conflagration failed to arrive.
They were masters of the Orwellian art of making inconvenient history vanish.
But as time went on, the false alarms, the demands on my time and the expectation of credulity and obedience became tiresome, worrying.
Not that you could say anything. To doubt the Governing Body, we were told, was to doubt God; just a whisper of criticism could lead to a summons to the dreaded Judicial Committee, with organised shunning to follow.
So I plodded on, did my service to God and man. Everything was about counting hours.
Not the hours to the Apocalypse, but the hours I wrote on my monthly report.
Clever JWs would “do a door” on the way to the meetings where witnessing territory was assigned, just to start the clock and take them closer to their quota.
Two hours out knocking on doors on a Saturday morning was barely adequate and earned snide comments. Three hours was better. That shut them up.
As a consequence we all dragged our feet, congregating on footpaths to chat, always an eye on the clock.
We’d linger at doors when there was clearly no one home before dawdling out to the street again. God wanted us to give our time.
He didn’t seem to mind how much of it we wasted while we were out there.
When my family and I finally quit, our eyes opened and feeling foolish about having stayed so long, family and former “friends” cut us off. What the hell. We were just glad to get our lives back.
When I see those thousands of Witnesses trudging towards Etihad Stadium this weekend, I’ll feel a trace of sadness for them. But I’ll know where they are. This weekend at least, I know they won’t be knocking on my door.
Graeme Hammond is a former Jehovah’s Witness.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Friday, October 10, 2014
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Jehovah's Witnesses' Child Sex Abuse Cases Bring Religion's Practices Into Question
Jehovah's Witnesses' Child Sex Abuse Cases Bring Religion's Practices Into Question
By Sami K. Martin , Christian Post Reporter
October 8, 2014|1:43 pm
(Photo: The Christian Post/Nicola A. Menzie)
A
group of Jehovah's Witnesses stand by their table displaying religious
literature on Friday, Jan. 10, 2014, at the Atlantic Terminal subway
station in New York City.
There are over 7 million Jehovah's Witnesses across the globe, according to the group's website. However, there have been numerous accusations and cases brought against elders and leaders of the organization, alleging child abuse of both young men and women, dating back at least 30 years. Four reported victims brought a lawsuit against the Jehovah's Witnesses and Watchtower Organization in Connecticut.
"This is an insidious problem, an epidemic problem with child sex abuse within this organization that so far seems more concerned about protecting its reputation from scandal than about the children," attorney Irwin Zalkin said at a press conference in Connecticut.
One particular case in 2012 saw Candace Conti, a victim, receive awarded $28 million in damages after alleging that member Jonathan Kendrick molested her from 1995-1996. The case was filed in Oakley, California and the $28 million award was the largest paid to a single victim.
"Nothing can bring back my childhood. But through this (verdict) and through, hopefully, a change in their policy, we can make something good come out of it," Conti said at the time.
Jim McCabe, the attorney who represented the religious organization in the case, said that the Jehovah's Witnesses "hate child abuse and believe it's a plague on humanity. Johnathan Kendrick was not a leader or a pastor, he was just a rank-and-file member. This is a tragic case where a member of a religious group has brought liability on the group for actions he alone may have taken."
The Jehovah's Witnesses have plenty of information on their website about how to keep children safe from predators, but take a unique approach to dealing with cases of accused abuse. When an allegation against a member or elder is made, the organization follows a "two-witness rule," which requires that there be two victims made. They claim that they follow Biblical principles when it comes to the rule and cite Scripture such as 1 Timothy 5:19 and Deuteronomy 19:15, which speak of having two persons come forward when making an accusation.
"You can disagree with our religion all you like, but we are a Bible-based organization, and we stand for upholding the Bible. What we are doing is simply being consistent with the Bible laws and principles, and as much as you dislike the outcome, we have told everyone of our stand, and you can't fault us for being consistent," the organization said in its defense of the rule.
In 2013, Elder Ronald Lawrence was charged with 19 felony counts: 11 of lewd molestation, seven of forcible sodomy and one of rape by instrumentation. The victims included two females and one male in Pittsburgh.
"He admitted to his church that all of the allegations were true" to be re-instated in his church after being "dis-fellowshipped" by the congregation to which he belonged, the affidavit read. However, Lawrence said that he never admitted anything and denied committing any crimes.
"The actions of the church, their banishment of (Lawrence) on one or more occasion and the directives of the governing body toward the victims and their family members regarding these crimes were actions of 'concealment' and further actions preventing the victims from reporting the crimes to law enforcement," the motion filed in Pittsburgh County District Court read.
The case against Lawrence was dropped in March 2014 due to an objection by the state. However, the prosecutor in the case plans to appeal the decision.
A call was placed to the Jehovah's Witnesses organization in Brooklyn, New York, to discuss the matter further, but no comment was given.
Teenager fears shunning by Jehovah's Witnesses kills own baby
http://m.record-eagle.com/news/local_news/article_402b8194-2f32-53a5-af1e-fbe9ba9bd76b.html?mode=jqm
TRAVERSE
CITY — Alyce Morales' sobs hung in a Benzie County courtroom as she
told a judge that panic gripped her after she secretly gave birth to a
daughter in a tent.
Morales, 19, of Cicero, Illinois, said she felt sorry every day since July 22, 2013, for what happened next. She closed her fist and struck herself before hitting her daughter, Marie, with a blow that fractured the infant's skull.
"I was in a really bad situation. I was alone and scared. I didn't think anything was going to happen, so I panicked," she said Tuesday. "I know that's not an excuse for what happened."
Nineteenth Circuit Court Judge James Batzer crafted a sentence that puts Morales in prison for at least 29 months, but also gives her a chance to clear her record. Morales pleaded guilty to manslaughter after authorities ruled the infant's death a homicide.
The plea agreement dismissed an original charge of an open count of murder.Batzer's decision came after an emotional hearing in which Morales' attorney Jesse Williams argued his client's strict Jehovah's Witnesses background made her fearful she'd be shunned by her family because of her out-of-wedlock pregnancy.
"I really think that the life she led and the isolation she grew up with led to this tragic event," he said.Benzie County Prosecutor Sara Swanson argued Morales' actions should have consequences. She said she spoke for Marie Morales, but pointed out she didn't have any stories to tell about the child and no pictures to show other than those taken at an autopsy.
"Although we don't have memories to share and stories to tell about her, her life still has value," she said. "She was only alive eight hours, and during that time she was beat and suffered. ... She died a very brutal death."
Swanson said Alyce Morales could have reached out to family, friends, counselors or even strangers if she felt afraid. She said Marie Morales' own cries for help were met with her mother punching and ultimately killing her.
But Morales' cousin Patricia Perales testified that the family's Jehovah's Witness beliefs may have left Morales feeling she had nowhere to turn for help. Perales said church elders and family members shunned her after she gave birth to her son.
"I do believe I know Alyce very well and her heart," she said. "I feel I can very relate to her mindset growing up in this religion."
Morales' aunt Elsie Vela testified that she felt their family failed Morales because they knew about the pregnancy. She pointed out that church elders were present at the campground when she went into labor.
"We never, ever thought she was that terrified, she was that isolated," she said.Williams said the church members' presence explains what he found "most astonishing" about Morales' labor — that she didn't make "a peep" in the tent.
"You don't make a sound, why? Because the very elders that you're so scared of are present, they're all out by the campfire," he said. "You can't about this, you have to hold this in."Williams pointed out all the sobs and tears in the courtroom came from Morales' family members, save two.
"Those two right there, her parents, are the only ones not crying," he said.Morales' family members declined comment.
Batzer said isolation seems to be the "common denominator" in cases like Morales' in which a young woman killed their child. He said understanding Morales' fears of rejection and stress doesn't excuse her actions, or preclude punishment.
"Ultimately, there are no good answers," Batzer said. "What the court has done is impose a punishment on the defendant, but one that will allow her to move on with her life."Batzer committed Morales to custodial supervision and training in Michigan's Department of Corrections.
Williams said Batzer granted his request for a sentence under the Holmes Youthful Trainee Act, which allows a judge to sentence a defendant, between ages 17 and 20, to prison or probation without a conviction.
Swanson said this sentence prevented her from commenting on what she thought about it."I really can't comment on it, because the records are sealed now," she said.
Record-Eagle/Matt TroutmanAlyce
Morales sits with her attorney Jesse Williams in 19th Circuit Court for
a Tuesday sentencing hearing on a manslaughter charge.
Morales, 19, of Cicero, Illinois, said she felt sorry every day since July 22, 2013, for what happened next. She closed her fist and struck herself before hitting her daughter, Marie, with a blow that fractured the infant's skull.
"I was in a really bad situation. I was alone and scared. I didn't think anything was going to happen, so I panicked," she said Tuesday. "I know that's not an excuse for what happened."
Nineteenth Circuit Court Judge James Batzer crafted a sentence that puts Morales in prison for at least 29 months, but also gives her a chance to clear her record. Morales pleaded guilty to manslaughter after authorities ruled the infant's death a homicide.
The plea agreement dismissed an original charge of an open count of murder.Batzer's decision came after an emotional hearing in which Morales' attorney Jesse Williams argued his client's strict Jehovah's Witnesses background made her fearful she'd be shunned by her family because of her out-of-wedlock pregnancy.
"I really think that the life she led and the isolation she grew up with led to this tragic event," he said.Benzie County Prosecutor Sara Swanson argued Morales' actions should have consequences. She said she spoke for Marie Morales, but pointed out she didn't have any stories to tell about the child and no pictures to show other than those taken at an autopsy.
"Although we don't have memories to share and stories to tell about her, her life still has value," she said. "She was only alive eight hours, and during that time she was beat and suffered. ... She died a very brutal death."
Swanson said Alyce Morales could have reached out to family, friends, counselors or even strangers if she felt afraid. She said Marie Morales' own cries for help were met with her mother punching and ultimately killing her.
But Morales' cousin Patricia Perales testified that the family's Jehovah's Witness beliefs may have left Morales feeling she had nowhere to turn for help. Perales said church elders and family members shunned her after she gave birth to her son.
"I do believe I know Alyce very well and her heart," she said. "I feel I can very relate to her mindset growing up in this religion."
Morales' aunt Elsie Vela testified that she felt their family failed Morales because they knew about the pregnancy. She pointed out that church elders were present at the campground when she went into labor.
"We never, ever thought she was that terrified, she was that isolated," she said.Williams said the church members' presence explains what he found "most astonishing" about Morales' labor — that she didn't make "a peep" in the tent.
"You don't make a sound, why? Because the very elders that you're so scared of are present, they're all out by the campfire," he said. "You can't about this, you have to hold this in."Williams pointed out all the sobs and tears in the courtroom came from Morales' family members, save two.
"Those two right there, her parents, are the only ones not crying," he said.Morales' family members declined comment.
Batzer said isolation seems to be the "common denominator" in cases like Morales' in which a young woman killed their child. He said understanding Morales' fears of rejection and stress doesn't excuse her actions, or preclude punishment.
"Ultimately, there are no good answers," Batzer said. "What the court has done is impose a punishment on the defendant, but one that will allow her to move on with her life."Batzer committed Morales to custodial supervision and training in Michigan's Department of Corrections.
Williams said Batzer granted his request for a sentence under the Holmes Youthful Trainee Act, which allows a judge to sentence a defendant, between ages 17 and 20, to prison or probation without a conviction.
Swanson said this sentence prevented her from commenting on what she thought about it."I really can't comment on it, because the records are sealed now," she said.
Record-Eagle/Matt TroutmanAlyce
Morales sits with her attorney Jesse Williams in 19th Circuit Court for
a Tuesday sentencing hearing on a manslaughter charge.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
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