Case Study #1 -- Lowell E. Nelson

I sat, sobbing, in the academic dean's office. Just moments earlier I'd been telling her about my Anatomy & Physiology teacher and how he made me feel uncomfortable in class with his sexually oriented jokes. He told us a joke about how a girl was on a school bus for a field trip and a boy said to her, "Your epidermis is showing," and she was worried because she thought a shirt button was undone but he really meant her skin. There was another joke he'd also told, but I cannot remember it now, more than 23 years later.   

The academic dean sat next to me somewhat awkwardly, not knowing how to handle my tears. She deemed it an overreaction, patted my shoulder, and sent me on my way. It was not until 5 years later that I would hear the truth. 

A&P was an easy class. Robin, my best friend, and I would study for the quizzes during choir time, which was right before lunch. A&P was right after lunch and, vocab terms with definitions in hand, we would memorize and quiz each other while the tenors and basses were practicing their parts. We usually aced the quizzes and grinned at each other as the teacher would hand out the next study guide. 

Lowell E. Nelson was a retired science teacher who'd come to Weimar College from Monterey Bay Academy. He was a jolly old man, with a smile and white hair and a bit of a round belly. Robin, an Education major, and I, an English major, took the class because we needed a science credit. We were breezing through the course, but as time went on, I started to become more and more uncomfortable in class. 

It was little things. Jokes, innuendoes. He would laugh, the whole class would laugh, and I would sit there, trying to process the undertones that didn't seem quite right to me. After several of these jokes, I went to the academic dean. Nothing happened. He finished out the school year but did not return the next year. Dr. John Haines started to teach A&P and taught it consistently after that. 

Did you know? Dr. Lowell Nelson was accused of molesting young boys at Monterey Bay Academy, someone said one day. I stood there in shock. A quick search of news reports today confirm that allegations were brought against him and another teacher at the same academy. The articles can be found here and here and here. 

In researching this article today, Good Times, a local weekly from Santa Cruz, stated that, "According to plaintiffs and witnesses, Nelson in particular was notorious for frequently talking about sex and genitalia in the classroom," I was not surprised. 

Weimar College administration at the time, specifically the academic dean Dr. Marilyn Wilcox, failed to do a thorough background check into an adjunct faculty member. Regardless of whether they had taught at another Seventh-day Adventist institution, they should still have been subjected to the same rigorous scrutiny as any other incoming professor. If nothing had come to light at that time, as the court cases came later, when a student went to administration with their concerns, those should have been taken seriously. As with many cases of misconduct, the Seventh-day Adventist institution "swept it under the rug" and failed to address this in a transparent manner. 

No one will see, if you stop believing

~Oh My Soul, by Casting Crowns 

Look Away

I don't believe in the Seventh-day Adventist organizational system anymore; I have no respect for it, I told my mother and brother, then later my sister, on our weekly call. It's too cumbersome, too weighty; it is nothing like the primitive church in the beginning when everyone cared for each other's needs and the gospel was the main priority. 

My mom and brother were silent. My sister, on the other hand, agreed with me. It was a conversation we'd had many times before. She understood. She knew what I meant. 

We grew up in the SDA church. We grew up going to Sabbath School, singing Who made the beautiful rainbow? as we waved wooden dowels with multicolored strips of felt glued to one end, swaying back and forth with our little Burkinabe friends. One year we dressed up in Pathfinder outfits—bright blue shirts, dark blue skirts for the girls and shorts for the boys, with the requisite scarf closed with the Pathfinder ring—and posed with our class for a group photo. My sister and I stood out from the rest with our white faces. I still remember the song, Un tison de la flame. . .

Potlucks, Revelation seminars, Communion services, camp meeting, and endless sermons where we tried to sink down and hide in our seats when my dad used us as sermon illustrations. From England to Burkina Faso to Egypt to Lebanon, the country might have changed but the church stayed the same. As predictable as the Johnson's baby perfume my mom patted on my baby brother's waistcoat as she dressed him in his midnight blue corduroy pants, matching waistcoat, white shirt, and mini bow tie to go to church. 

As a teenager, I became heavily involved in Sabbath School programming, Friday night vespers, and preparing skits for Sabbath sundown worship. Being a Seventh-day Adventist was more than being part of the Christian community for me; it was my identity. 

Then I grew up. And after 40+ years of idealizing the remnant church, the one true church, I realized that there were flaws in this church. In particular, the tendency for church officials to covether up any type of misconduct, appeal to the "forgive and forget" motto, and fail to deal with things through the court system. 

But I'm not going to be quiet anymore. I have a place to speak up, document, and, even if only for myself, denounce all the wrongs that have happened under the guise of Christianity. Because if I don't, I will walk away from organized religion and I cannot do that just yet.