Every now and again we discuss on this forum the degree of control that The Society enjoys over its members – the rank and file. That there IS huge control is beyond dispute, I would guess. But there’s more to it than just a simple predatory attitude from Brooklyn (though that’s there, for sure). There’s a complicit attitude from the congregation itself.
Your average dub, just WANTS to be told what to do and think.
I was thinking back – this is around 1970 - to when we, in our local KH, were discussing leaving the somewhat run-down rented accommodation we were in and building a new modern Kingdom Hall in the middle of town.
One of the items that came up for discussion on a Tuesday night Service Meeting was to do with the seating to be used in the new building. The choice before us was to re-use the old-fashioned, but rather comfy and generously-padded seats that were in use in the old place (bought years earlier as a job-lot from an old cinema about to be demolished) – or go for a brand-new look, nice modern office-style seating that would be a credit to the Hall.
How to vote?
I was as undecided as anyone else there. The brother on the platform outlining the issue was trying to be neutral about it, clearly wanting the brothers to decide for themselves (“it’s your money we’re spending, brothers!”) but seemed to me to be leaning towards the “Get New ” school. Others from the floor responded that there was nothing wrong with what we had. I don’t know if this is the way things relating to a new KH are decided these days – but on that occasion it was going to be settled by a show of hands that night.
The congregation was in a total dither. Jesus didn’t know how right he was when he spoke about his “sheep”. “ Baaa-aaa - what d’you think?” “ Baaa-aa - I dunno, what do you think?”
Finally, the Congregation Servant was asked to comment from the floor (this must have been just a few months before the whole Body-of-Elders thing came in). This chap, who would be the first PO, and had been our Overseer as long as I could remember, was looked to as, well, simply being right about everything. He was Brother Smith, The Overseer. He knew What Was Best.
And I remember his comments so well, the effect was so immediate.
He said: “ Well, it’s not for me to say - new chairs might certainly look nice, but I know which ones I’d rather sit on!”
Phew! That was it! At last! No tiresome decision necessary! We had been given the right answer! It wasn’t just me, feeling this sense of relief - the sentiment was palpable in the room.
The vote was taken shortly thereafter, and was completely unanimous. Old chairs for us! Thank goodness Brother Smith told us what the right answer was!
I’ve always remembered this:
The helpless sense of so wanting to give the “right answer” but not trusting ourselves to know what that right answer was.
The relief we felt upon being told what the right answer was.
The sense of joy in putting up my hand to vote the “right” way in order to endorse the “right” answer. To be seen on the “right” side of the question.
All over a miniscule, poxy little issue like seating!
“Sheep” alright!
Anyway, the irony is that the old Hall actually burned down a couple of months later, actually just as the build on the new place was about to get underway. So – new seats it was, as it turned out.
Maybe it was Jehovah who lit the match, correcting his wayward people from their wrong furniture-decision. Mysterious ways and all that - Who knows?
Duncan.
