Murders

Murders shake Bellevue congregation
It's no cult, says pastor by Janice Hayes Times East bureau It has been more than a year since the first shock ripped through the congregation of the Worldwide Church of God. The wounds were starting to heal; then it happened again. Three of their own had put down their Bibles and picked up guns, stunning this tight-knit congregation and testing their faith. The 250 members of this fundamentalist Christian church, which grew out of a radio ministry begun by Herbert Armstrong in 1934, share a common goal: to live by God's law. Charles Evino Harris, who had been a devout church mem- ber, is now in prison because he violated that law by taking the lives of others. Two teen-agers, a 14-year-old and a 13-year-old who had a brother-like relationship with Harris, now face murder charges in the shooting death of a North King county man in July. Harris, who is black, blamed the church's teachings against interracial marriage for the slaying of his white girlfriend, Brenda James, and another woman at a Bellevue home in January, 1985. Torn between his religion and his woman, who was also a church member, Harris claims he went crazy when she chose her religion over him. The publicity surrounding those incidents has raised questions about the church, which has eight congregations and 2,000 members in the Puget Sound area and a membership of more than 789,000 in 56 countries. Some have suggested the church's teachings are so extreme that they push people over the edge. But church members say the pressure, drugs and violence that are a part of today's society — not the church — are to blame. "There are problems in every church," said longtime church member Mary Underwood. "Ever since these awful things happened I guess people want to come out and see the weird ones ... I think they'd be disappointed." Pastor Dennis Luker says the people who belong to the church are not members of some strange
	Vic Condiotty / Seattle Times Pastor Dennis Luker shares pleasantries with Worldwide Church of God members Jim and Laura Pfau and their children after a recent Saturday service.
	cult. Instead, he says, they are wholesome people with old-fashioned values. They don't smoke, swear or drink. The women don't wear makeup and most of them don't work outside of the home. "Cults die out. Cults fall over," said 44-year-old Luker, graduate of the church's Ambassador college in Pasadena, Calif. "How can you follow God and be a cult?" But not everyone is willing to accept Luker's description. It wasn't easy for Betty and Richard Aitkins to leave the Worldwide Church of God six years ago. It had been an impor-	tant part of their lives: Aitkins was a pastor in the church for 7 years; most of their friends and activities were associated with the church. The Aitkins now call the church a "classic cult." They say it discourages members from asking questions and thinking for themselves. They say it pressures people to be perfect, to divorce themselves from he ways of the world. They say It is authoritar-ian and sexist. "Before I joined Worldwide, I used my brain," said Betty Ait-kins. "But women in the church are squelched, treated like sec-	ond-class citizens. When I was in the church I thought society was different. I didn't see that we were different." "Looking back, we laugh at how gullible we were," added Richard Aitkins. "When you think you have found the truth, you check your brain in at the door." Luker defends his church. "People think there must, be something wrong with the church and its people," he said. "We are not some weird, odd group. We are not Protestant, Catholic, or Jewish. We are Christian people thankful to be in a country where we are free to believe in what we	want to." Some of those beliefs are considered extreme, and outsid- ers see some apparent contradic- tions. But even though the church preaches against interracial un- ions, as it did in Harris' case, it has about a half dozen interracial couples in this congregation. Julio Gonzalez, who is Puerto Rican, was already married to his wife June, who is white, when he joined the church twenty years ago. Gonzalez says he now knows Please see RELIGION on H 3

Close-knit church still shocked over crimes

RELIGION
continued from H 1

The truth: that God intended for the races to remain separate. He says he would now advise against intererracial marriages. "God didn't say one race was superior to the other, but he created three separate races," he said. "In extreme races, like black and white, the bloodlines won't mix and the people won't have anything in common. Our church is criticized because we know the truth. We are more noticed because we are different, set apart from the rest."
     Jim and Laura Pfau say church members don't treat them differently because their skin colors are not the same. Jim is white and Laura is Chinese. "Our lives have been improv-

ing every year since we joined the church," said Jim Pfau. "I'm very comfortable with the church's teachings. They are in line with the Bible."
     Another thing that makes this church different is that church members don't celebrate Christmas or other traditional holidays. Instead, they celebrate the biblical holy days.
      That practice has alienated Jean Jones from her family. "They don't understand why I don't celebrate Christmas and Thanksgiving with them," she said.
     Her family also can't understand why she belongs to a church they think is racist. Jones is black.
     "I see nothing wrong with being with one's race," said Jones. "Where you get into prejudice is when you say one race is better than the other, and that is not what we are saying."

     The church has other beliefs and practices that put it under scrutiny. It spends its money on worldwide broadcasts and publications, not fancy churches. It rents space in modest halls like the Masonic Temple in Bellevue, where every Saturday — the Sabbath — about 250 men, women and children turn this shadowy, windowless hall into a place of worship.
     No signs outside announce the church services, but the throng of Bible-clutching people who gather there is hard to miss. Men dressed in suits and ties and women in dresses and high heels shake hands with pastor Luker outside the hall before leaving the mid-morning sun for the rows of chairs within.
     Once inside, the congregation is reserved as they listen to the sermon and thumb through their worn Bibles in search of yet another passage.

Members are required to read the Bible once a year from cover to cover. They are also asked to give roughly a third of their income — split between the church, travel to church activities and for a church welfare fund for needy members. The money to the church helps it spread its message on television and through its Plain Truth magazine.

Close-knit church still shocked over crimes
RELIGION continued from H 1
The truth: that God intended for the races to remain separate. He says he would now advise against intererracial marriages. "God didn't say one race was superior to the other, but he created three separate races," he said. "In extreme races, like black and white, the bloodlines won't mix and the people won't have anything in common. Our church is criticized because we know the truth. We are more noticed because we are different, set apart from the rest." Jim and Laura Pfau say church members don't treat them differently because their skin colors are not the same. Jim is white and Laura is Chinese. "Our lives have been improv-	ing every year since we joined the church," said Jim Pfau. "I'm very comfortable with the church's teachings. They are in line with the Bible." Another thing that makes this church different is that church members don't celebrate Christmas or other traditional holidays. Instead, they celebrate the biblical holy days. That practice has alienated Jean Jones from her family. "They don't understand why I don't celebrate Christmas and Thanksgiving with them," she said. Her family also can't understand why she belongs to a church they think is racist. Jones is black. "I see nothing wrong with being with one's race," said Jones. "Where you get into prejudice is when you say one race is better than the other, and that is not what we are saying."	The church has other beliefs and practices that put it under scrutiny. It spends its money on worldwide broadcasts and publications, not fancy churches. It rents space in modest halls like the Masonic Temple in Bellevue, where every Saturday — the Sabbath — about 250 men, women and children turn this shadowy, windowless hall into a place of worship. No signs outside announce the church services, but the throng of Bible-clutching people who gather there is hard to miss. Men dressed in suits and ties and women in dresses and high heels shake hands with pastor Luker outside the hall before leaving the mid-morning sun for the rows of chairs within. Once inside, the congregation is reserved as they listen to the sermon and thumb through their worn Bibles in search of yet another passage.	Members are required to read the Bible once a year from cover to cover. They are also asked to give roughly a third of their income — split between the church, travel to church activities and for a church welfare fund for needy members. The money to the church helps it spread its message on television and through its Plain Truth magazine.