What do I know, and how do I know it?

A couple weeks ago I noticed an announcement in the local weekly newspaper about an upcoming lecture that had the provocative title, God on Trial, which was scheduled for the following Sunday morning, a time when the majority of Americans would be attending services at one church or another. I was intrigued and made a note to attend.

When I arrived at the lobby of the auditorium, I found myself amongst a throng of people who were engaged in lively conversation. It turned out they were members of the sponsoring organization that calls itself the Center for Inquiry (http://www.centerforinquiry.net/ ), which I had not heard of before. Rather than try to butt into the conversations, I proceeded on into the auditorium and found myself an aisle seat with a good view of the lectern.

What followed was a thoroughly fascinating presentation by a man named Richard W. Morris, who went on at length about his experiences as a lawyer, prosecutor, professor, aviator, skeptic, and, as he eventually revealed, novelist. His lecture was largely based on his latest novel by the same title. As I told him during the Q&A session, what he had said was quite enough to convince me to buy his book.

I left with an autographed copy of God on Trial, (http://www.godontrial.ws/) which I found to be thoroughly engaging, and finished reading within a few days. Like most popular novels these days, it is filled with plenty of juicy sex, intrigue, deception and murder, but a great deal of history, philosophy, and logic besides. That’s the kind of story I like, one that is not only suspenseful and entertaining, but one that I can learn something from. The novel recounts many of the atrocities that have been perpetrated down through the ages in the name of one religion or another, particularly those of Christianity, like the “Holy Inquisition” and the various “witch trials,” and it highlights many of the discrepancies and contradictions that exist within the Bible.

The plot line centers on a blasphemy trial in which “the State must first prove the existence of God in court, using the standard Rules of Evidence.” A major sub-plot describes the corruption, debauchery and financial shenanigans that go on within a major religious organization that bears a striking resemblance to several well-know groups.

Throughout the book, David, the protagonist and the defendant in the trial, who also happens to be a Ph.D. candidate and teacher of philosophy at the local university, keeps repeating the question to his students: “What do I know, and how do I know it?” Quite a legitimate question, I think, and one that I have given much consideration over the years. In my youth I was taught that we can come to knowledge either (1) through our senses and rational processes, or (2) through “Divine revelation.”

Philosophers get into some pretty deep debates about the nature of “reality” and “consciousness,” but I won’t even try to go there. It seems quite evident that what we experience through our senses leads us to learn, to know, and to understand as we process information through our rational mind. It’s this “Divine revelation” that causes so much controversy and strife. Is it truly a way of knowing? If so, where does it come from? Is that what we call “God?”

At a practical level, I concluded long ago that most (if not ALL) religion is a racket. There has never been any shortage of people—priests, rabbis, ministers, imams, etc.—who claim to have had a Divine revelation, and/or who claim to speak for God – “Thus saith the LORD….,” etc. Some of these, no doubt, believe what they preach, but what is the foundation for their beliefs? What we “think” we know about these things is largely determined by an accident of birth. If I had been born into a Muslim or Jewish family I would have been instilled with a different set of beliefs. As it happened, it’s been my Roman Catholic indoctrination I’ve had to overcome. Having been the product of 17 years of Catholic schools, it’s something close to “miraculous” that I ever succeeded. Maybe it was my personal “Divine revelation” that did it. — Santos

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Welcome to the Painful Truth Blog

I have chosen to host this blog on my server due to what seems to be the unreliable service that google gives. A simple software issue took down all my accounts rendering the former blog,  e-mail account and what I was doing at the time, (setting up a new YouTube account) along with disabling my account for a day. I don’t appreciate that fine treatment!

Anyway, I invite everyone to grab a “Gravatar” (the link is at the upper right of this page) as a way to identify yourself. Easy to make and better yet, it’s free.

For the month of June we had Dick Armstrong as guest of the former blog. He had wrote me mid-month that he was going to post some more as time allowed.  I was hoping for a fresh post on the 28th due to him signing in and saving a draft without text.  Perhaps another day.

On another note, if you try to post a comment to one of the former posting before the month of July, it will not show up. I was able to import the former blog postings of the editors, but the comments did not import. Hence I supplied a link to those comments.

In a few days we will have another guest editor. I hope you like what we have come up with here and if you have any suggestions feel free to post them here.

Later this summer we will have some other interesting guests! Stay tuned!

Dick Armstrong drops by….

The following was first published on our old google blog.


Tuesday, June 1, 2010

My name is Richard D. Armstrong II, most people who were in the W.W.C.G. knew me as a youngster as “Dicky”. I’ve been called Richard, Rick or Dick for more than 30 years now and it amazes me how time has flown by. I began looking for ways to reconnect with classmates of mine from Big Sandy Texas recently and ran across this blog and found some interesting things here. After writing the editor James, I decided I’d contribute some things when I have time – I’m very busy working now, driving for Swift Transportation. I’m able to get online several times a week, though sometimes only for a limited time.
I would just start by saying that I have had many great opportunities in my life and many of my occupational endeavors have kept me busy day to day, but some have offered me plenty of time for reflection on my life. I lived in the Chetco, Illinois and Wild Rogue River wildernesses of Southern Oregon for many years in the early 1980s, working as a Forest Service caretaker at a historical guard station built by the Civilian Conservation Corps. in the 1930s, I also worked in the same area at McCaleb Ranch. During these times I was able to form myself as a young adult and decided who I was and what I wanted to be in life. In 1985 I reunited with my grandfather Herbert W. Armstrong and was blessed to spend much of the last year of his life with him, living with him for a time at the Ambassador College Pasadena campus. I attended college there in 1985 and left after his death in 1986.
I have many great fond memories of the church and the people I knew and grew up with. When I look back on my memories of the Church, Imperial School and Ambassador College, I’m reminded of how blessed we all were to have the fellowship we shared. The tumultuous things that have transpired over the years since the late 1970s and especially since my grandfathers death in 1986 are sad and it’s a shame that the Church organization was not able to continue into the future with the same goodwill and co-operation that was the hallmark of the Church and it’s people from inception until the breakup and selling off of the Church and it’s holdings. I think there may be a time and place to write about some of the really bad things that have transpired within the Church over time – I have personally been affected by things like Stanley Rader influencing my grandfather into terrible decisions, also the much publicized personal turmoil of my uncle Garner Ted, the accusations of abuse by grandpa by my late Aunt Dorothy, the receivership by the state of California in the late 70s, also – perhaps most disappointing to me – the way the Church was handled by those who took over after my grandfathers death in 1986. However, one thing I have been able to do with my adult life, is to not dwell on negative things any longer than is beneficially necessary. Sadly, I know many people who have been hurt and have not been able to pick up and move forward. I have had to work hard my whole life and I’m still working on my own personal dreams and goals. My purpose in writing here is to share what has been a wonderful upbringing and life within the church from my birth in 1958 until the day I left my job at the college library in Pasadena in 1979 and moved to Oregon to “find out who I was” and make a life for myself and my family. I too have been close to the negativity and harm that has happened within the Church and it’s affiliated organizations – the reason I left my job at the college library in Pasadena that early summer day in 1979 was that people there were constantly trying to talk to me about “what was going on” and some were trying to convince me that my own Mother was complicit in a plot to overthrow my grandfather and put Garner Ted at the helm of the Church – NOT TRUE and I knew better. My family is very loving and supportive of each other – for the most part. In any case, I would be glad to relate these things I experienced at some point – but for the most part, I have great memories I’d like to share of happier times and that will be the purpose of my writing here. I am not ignorant of the negative things that transpired within the Church and it’s affiliations, yet there were so many fine things to recall and that is what I’d like to share with people. Lots of water has gone under the bridge, so I am choosing to recall the good things, I’ll let God sort out the bad things as I don’t feel it’s my job to focus on the negative black hole that so many people get caught in.
My intent in writing here is to share memories with any interested readers of what it was like to grow up in the thick of the Worldwide Church of God, Imperial Schools and Ambassador College. My memories are of wonderful people, wonderful gatherings, people working together and helping each other. I will share with you how lucky I feel to have experienced growing up on the campus in Bricket Wood England, then Big Sandy Texas and eventually Pasadena California. I was blessed to be part of the Church and it’s workings during a wonderful period of time and my memories are 99% great memories.
Some of my earliest childhood memories are of growing up at my grandfather Armstrong’s home in Bricket Wood England, then eventually living in the cottage next door to the Raymond McNair family after my Mom remarried to Ben Chapman. My Mom has related to me how she basically “blacked out” upon the death of my father, after they had a very special and almost “fairy tale” relationship. It is understandable that this would devastate anyone – and it was especially hard on my Mom who was a new mother with a 6 month old baby. My grandfather suggested to her that it would be best if she got a new start in Bricket Wood and we were moved there and initially lived with Grandpa Armstrong at his home. As my Mom got involved with the Church and College there, I had allot of babysitters from the college (college students) and I remember very much of these experiences from ages as early as age 2. I distinctly remember being pulled through the snow in a cardboard box my Mom had rigged up with rope, so she could run through the snow, pulling me behind her – of course I thought life could not get any better than that! I also vividly remember being looked after by Andrew Silcox and his father, who was the groundskeeper in Bricket Wood. I’m sure that like any young boy with a tricycle and a ton of energy, I must have been a real pest – though Mr. Silcox always seemed to love having me around. He would give me “missions” to go on – “Dicky, take your tricycle out and get me as many worms as you can find!”. I was so happy to go digging around the rich English soil and come back with a trunk (my tricycle had a trunk on it) full of night crawlers. I also have fond memories of my grandpa telling me he had gotten 2 shetland ponies that I could ride and at a very early age I was out riding with Andrew Silcox who was so good to me – we had an absolute storybook good time, out riding the English countryside looking for lost swords and treasure – how could a kid forget wonderful things like that? I certainly remember more than I have time to write about here, but my early life in Bricket Wood was very special and I’ve talked to my Mom many times about the things we did – she has been amazed that I remember that far back and I’ve reminded her of many things that she had forgotten. I remember playing with Ruth and Bruce Mcnair at the cottage next door – so great to have kids to play with from the church. I also remember that the McNairs had taken a trip to the English countryside and somehow ended up bringing back a wild goat, then tying it up in the back yard. One day – I think after a day at Church, they returned home to find their back yard very much re-arranged by the goat and I’m pretty sure they ate it after that, but I’d have to ask Raymond about the particulars – he might not want to admit to whatever the goats fate was – HA! I also remember every day of a car tour we took as a family in England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland in a Jaguar my dad Ben Chapman had purchased. Along with the spectacular scenery we saw, I remember Mom and Dad kicking me out of the back seat where I slept, when their air mattress gave way on a rainy English night. I remember being very frightened for my Moms safety as she made her way along slippery rock steps at a waterfall in Wales. We camped at Loch Ness and drove through the mountains in Scotland – I remember seeing it all like it was yesterday.
There came a point where my Grandpa thought dad (Ben Chapman) would be a good fit for the campus in Big Sandy Texas, so we packed up and boarded the S.S. United States for an Atlantic Crossing. The story has been told to me, that grandpa would have had the presidential suite, but the President happened to be on board for this trip – this is true, Dwight D. Eisenhower was on this crossing and I remember seeing him. I also remember the theatre on board, where we watched a Johnny Weismueller Tarzan film, also I recall dad tossing me into the water (sink or swim) in the Olympic pool. What a ship this S.S. United States was – the ring toss on board was very cool too – I remember stopping from the ring toss game and just staring out at all that water – it seemed so magical and so infinite. As we approached the New York Harbor, grandpa Armstrong got me out of bed early to see the sun rise on the statue of Liberty – I will never forget him telling me the story of Lady Liberty and what that meant to Americans. After a trip through Immigration, we were in an apartment in New York City for a time, then we drove the Jaguar across the U.S. to Big Sandy where we set up camp in a home that was still being worked on. I will write more later, picking up there when I have time next. Best Wishes to you all and I’d love to reconnect with anyone who I knew from the Church, College or Schools.
Posted by Dick Armstrong at 6/01/2010 07:07:00 PM