Thursday, April 28, 2005

How Religion was Invented, and Why I'm Still a Christian

For a very long time, human beings have believed that words have power. Ancient Egyptian priests put curses on Pharaoh's tomb. The Ancient Chinese Emperor Chi Shi Huang Ti thought that he would live forever if he said a secret phrase every morning, and drank a special potion. (Which was composed of mercury and probably made him go mad.) The Druids in Europe believed that they could effect the rising of the sun by saying prayers, and Native Americans believed that they could make it rain with songs. If you think about it, almost every religion holds a central belief in the power of words.

Hindus believe in the power of the word "Om." They believe it is a word that drives the human spirit and mind into a presence with Brahman. To quote the Mandukya Upanishad, "Om is the one eternal syllable of which all that exists is but the development. The past, the present, and the future are all included in this one sound, and all that exists beyond the three forms of time is also implied in it"

The Dalai Lama, head of the Buddhist faith, led a seminar on the medicinal power of the Mantra where attendants were told that reciting the Mantra "brings inconceivable merit. ... If you recite the mantra every day, the buddhas and bodhisattvas will always pay attention to you, and they will guide you. All your negative karmas will be pacified and you will never be born in the three lower realms.... and all your wishes are fulfilled."

Bruce Wilkinson tells us in the opening lines of the wildly popular book The Prayer of Jabez that he can "teach you how to pray a daring prayer that God always answers...I believe it contains the key to a life of extraordinary favor with God..." And Christians everywhere reading this book belive that if they pray for money, God will give it to them.

It is firmly believed across the globe that words have power. The question is why. We do not witness the tangible power of words in our everyday lives. Never have I said "levitate" to a pencil, and watched it rise from the desk. (Though, I admit, I've tried.) I have never rebuked the wind with my voice, and I have never made a cup of hot coffee by telling it to come to me. Though I wish things could be this easy, I have not witnessed the tangible power of words in my life, nor do I know of anyone who has. So the question is, where did this belief come from? Why would people all across the world, all across the span of human history all agree that words have power?

I think the answer lies in our own experiences. Words do have power, but not the tangible type of power that we seem to want them to have.

[Before you go crazy: I'm not saying that God does not answer prayers, that is something else. I am saying that the words I pray are not powerful, but God is powerful and if he wills to answer prayers, He has the power to do so. Enough said.]

So on to my point. (I guess you could call this my thesis statement)

We experience the emotive power of words. When we mix this experience with our inherent "humocentrism" and the power of confirmation bias, we ascribe a tangible power to words that does not exist. We then use that ascribed power to develop a system of rituals out of which religions are born.

Notice the effect that reading these words have on you. You quite literally feel something when you read these words:





Notice how you feel when you read those words. They have power over you. When you read the word "pain" you feel it. When you read the word "molestation" you grow angry. When someone strings words together and uses them against you, there is no shield to guard you against the attack. You cannot build stronger muscles in order to not feel something when someone says "Fuck you." or some other abusive remark. We feel the power of those words. Words can be weapons, and no matter how we feel about the kindergarten "sticks and stones" line of defense, it simply isn't true. Words can and do hurt us. That is why we use them.

At the same time, words can heal us. Think of how you feel when you hear these words:



It's okay

There, there

These words comfort us and make us feel better. Words do have tangible power, but only over us as individuals. We feel the power that words have over us. What does that have to do with the birth of religion? On to the second point.

Human beings all share what I call a "Humocentric" worldview. It is something that we all share, no matter how intentional we are about realizing that it is false. Human beings view themselves as the most important things in the universe. Basically, we think that if something is familiar to us, it is probably familiar to the rest of creation. For example, how many scientists are trying to discern the language used by dolphins? It is more than likely that dolphins do not have a language at all, but we assume that they should. Humans are smart, and they use language, it's probable then that if dolphins are smart, they should have language. Our children's stories claim that animals can speak, and most children probably think that animals are able to speak, but chose not to around humans. It is not until we teach them certain scientific principles that they finally give up on the idea that animals are able to speak. (Though somehwere, I think we all hold the hope that our dogs and cats do, in fact, talk to each other.) When I put a hook through a worm, I assume that the worm feels pain as I do because his skin gets hard and he tries to wriggle off. Scientists claim that the worm's nervous system is unable to recognize pain, but I do not believe science. I ascribe the experience of pain to worms, because it is familiar to me. We, as humans, anthropomorphize nearly everything we come across.

This humocentric anthropomorphization combines with the emotive power of words to develop religious rituals.

For example, pretend I waved a stick in the air and the wind picked up a bit. I might think that the wind picked up because I waved the stick. Now, we know that this is not the case, but we try it again. Nothing happened, the wind blew just as it always has. But, confirmation bias tells us that the breeze did, in fact, pick up a bit. We repeat the experiment, and our confirmation bias is intensified by a true psychosomatic response wherein we actually feel the wind pick up when we wave a stick. We believe that waving a stick makes the wind blow. The next step is going outside on a windless day to see if we can generate wind by waving the stick.

We go outside and wave the stick, and the wind does not pick up. We might then wonder what went wrong. We try to do the exact same thing, and still get no results. Maybe the circle was too small. So we wave a smaller circle. If that works the first time, and fails the next time, we might think the speed was off. Gradually the ritual will become more and more intricate to the point where it is nearly impossible to do the thing that we prescribe for the generation of a gust of wind. By the time we are finished, we have found that if you point a slightly bent two foot long hickory stick that's no thicker than your thumb toward the West and move it ever so slowly in a perfect circle whose radius is no larger than your abdomen and no smaller than your thigh, it will make the wind blow. This sort of thing, I think, is the mode by which ritual comes into being.

I believe the same thing happened with words. One day, during a drought, someone was singing, and it started to rain. They ran home, told everyone what happened, and the people incorrectly ascribed the rain to the song. When they tried to sing the song at the next drought it did not work, so they thought "We must have to sing the song in the same place facing the same direction with the same colors etc..." gradually a simple act is woven into the culture and the religion that is building and confirmation bias tells us that the rituals are powerful. If we witness even the smallest measure of success, we ascribe that phenomenon to the act that we have performed.

The humocentric worldview that we cannot escape combines with confirmation bias to convince us that we have the ability to affect the world through a series of intricate rituals. As those rituals are practiced, they are inherently woven into an occultic mysterious language, and gradually chants and incantations develop around the rituals. As the rituals and spells increase, a system develops around them and a religion is slowly born. Every time someone attempts to prove or disprove the religion, it succeeds in the minds of the believers because they are operating the experiments with a mind driven to accept the religion's claims. Confirmation bias solidifies the faith.

We, in effect, make ourselves into gods. Now, I am not saying that religion is bad, or that God has been invented. Even with all this talk about how religions are born, I still believe in God. In fact, I am a Presbyterian and believe the Heidleburgh Catechism is true. What I do not believe however, is that the rituals I perform at church are done because they are powerful in and of themselves. I do not believe that I can make God do my bidding if I say the right thing facing the correct direction after washing my hands and dipping my feet in snake oil. When I start doing that, I'll stop being Christian and start being religious. Now, that's not to say that religious activities have no merit. There are certain psychosomatic benefits to fasting, praying, taking communion. I even believe that God honors our taking of the sacrements. But the thing to remember is that the power of these things lies in God, and not in our ability to perform the religious duties. Anything else is Gnosticism.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005


Time's a funny thing. It evaporates from your hands when you want it to stay, and when you want to push it away, it stains your skin.

That's the way things are right now. There are many portions of my life that I want to stain my skin, and many that I want to wash off. I want to wash off the bad habits in my life, the curses, the gossip, the anger, the judgementalism, the impatience, the labelling of people as good or bad, holy or unholy, arrogant or humble, mean or kind. I want to be a better person, but I see the things I don't like about myself staining my skin.

I want to hold certain things in my hand. I want to sit in the car with J.P. after finishing his floors and talk at midnight with the radio slowly playing. I want to house in my heart that wonderful feeling I have every Sunday in church when I am reminded that I've been forgiven. I don't want to remember the pleasantries of slower days and a happier workplace, I want to be in them right now.

I'm waiting for the dirt to evaporate, and the rubbing alcohol to stain my skin. As I wait, I wonder why it seems to work that way. Why are we so ruined that we can't help but remember the bad things. We never stop kicking ourselves for our short-comings and misfortunes, and we hardly ever remember the good things in our lives.

As I sit, writing this, I have a very easy, well paying job, and I'm on my way to an interview for another. I lack nothing. And what does my mind gravitate toward? The want of a wife. The lack of my own place. The desire to move on. Why do I want so badly to go from here, when this is a great place to be? I don't know. All I know that one of the most difficult things to hold on to is contentment. And you can't grab it by waiting for the bad to pass.

I guess it's time I started counting my blessings again, and being intentional about thanksgiving. I have so much, and notice such insignificant lack as such an enormous gap.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Dirty Pants and an FM Transmitter

Last night I went to a friend's house after work to help him with his floors. I have worn the same pants while doing this for the past four days so as to only ruin one pair of pants. By the time I left his house yesterday, those pants were covered in brown stain, paint, dust, and a small measure of raw grime.

On the way home, I stopped in Legacy Village in Beachwood, Ohio to pick up an FM transmitter for my iPod Shuffle. If you don't already know, Legacy Village is a ritsy flitsy shopping center in Beachwood. It's one of those outdoor shopping centers that looks like a village. It has streets running through it, and very pricey yuppy stores all over the place. I was still covered in stain from helping J.P. but I figured it wouldn't matter as I wasn't going to give someone my money, and why would they care what I looked like as long as I gave them money.

Now, if I was running a store, I don't think I would give a rip about the people who came in to buy my merchandise. I can see having a dress code for a restaurant, or a theater or something like that. These places make money off of atmosphere, and they have to require the attendants to contribute to that atmosphere. But no one goes to the Apple store because people are well dressed inside. I thought I would be safe in my dirty clothes. I obviously was not a bum, and for all anyone knew, I was a tradesman on his way home.

When I walked in the door, the guy at the counter was at his computer. He looked up at me, looked down at my pants (which I can't blame him for) and then looked back at his monitor without saying anything. I walked straight up to the desk where he was standing and he looked up from the screen at me again, and then looked back down as if I weren't there. I was shocked. He had looked me in the eye, and then looked right back down at his monitor. So I engaged him.

"Hey, I need to pick up an FM transmitter for my iPod shuffle." I said. I figured that would communicate that I was there for a purpose, I wasn't just browsing, and maybe he could help me with it.

"They suck." He responded. Now, maybe he was trying to be helpful, but that's all he said. And then he looked right back at the screen. Maybe he was busy.

"They suck?" I asked. "Do they not work at all? Or do they just not put out Hi-Fi sound, because I'm not looking for digital sound in the car, I just want to listen to the shuffle while I drive, and I can't use the headphones."

He sighed deeply and looked up at me. "They're forty bucks." He said and looked back down. I couldn't believe how unhelpful he was being. Excuse me? Their forty bucks? That's all you can do to help me? I thought. I'm guessing he was busy on whatever it was he was working on, and he didn't want to quit halfway through to help me with something that it looked like I couldn't afford.

"Are they returnable?" I asked. I guess he finally recognized that I wasn't going anywhere and he rested his hands on the top of the screen.

"Yeah." He said.

"Okay, then how about I get one of those, and if it sucks, I'll return it."

"Fine." he said, and looked back down at the screen again. I didn't know where they were, and I wasn't about to fight the kid to take my money and I nearly walked right out. Just then, another guy walked over.

"Hey are you busy?" I asked the other guy.

"No." he said, "What do you need?"

So I told him what I was looking for, and the kid said "I was going to get it Rob."

I said, "It's okay, you're working on something, and he's not. I'll just have him get it so I don't have to interrupt what you're doing." And Rob looked over at the kid's screen.

Rob walked over to grab me a transmitter. He rang me up real quick and I turned to walk out of the store.

As I pushed open the door, I heard Rob say to the kid, "Solitaire?" and the kid replied, "I didn't think he was going to buy it."

Now, maybe I'm looking for something to complain about, but seriously. If I'm in your store asking to spend my money, who cares how clean my pants are?

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

The Early Dogwood

Take my hand, friend, follow me.
I've found Spring hiding
just past a little pond in the park.

Go ahead, park the car
and walk with me.
Past the swingset and picnic tables,
head toward the sound
of Spring Peepers and Chorus frogs.
Keep walking toward their song
until you find a thin trail through the woods.
It was made
by the hooves of a herd of deer
through the winter
and it's just barely one person wide.
This is where I go
to run.

If you turn left
and head toward the bend in the road,
you'll find an old gnarled dogwood
who thinks it's already Spring.
He's budded weeks ago
and his leaves are already full grown
while all the other trees are bare.

The white flowers,
yawning out from his old scraggled fingers,
spreading as wide as my open hand
brush my ear
as I run by.
And I laugh to myself
at the Dogwood that's flowered too soon.

But today, stop here with me
under the old tree's new leaves
and think forward to Spring.

The dogwood might be early
but because he is,
it's only Spring right here.
Everywhere else,
the world is slowly crawling
out of Winter coats and skin.
But here,
under his old wrinkled skin,
under his thousand knobbled thumbs,
right here, right now,
under the old Dogwood tree,
it's already Spring.
And I can breathe.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005


This morning I heard on NPR that our nuclear power plants are not keeping as close an eye on their nuclear waste as the government would like them to. Apparently, it is possible for terrorists to make off with this waste, and then refine the deadly radiocative material, turn that material into nuclear warheads which they can then attach to weapons that can be used against us. I was shocked.

Could it be true that terrorists are targeting America? I know that they committed those horrible attacks on 9.11, but I haven't noticed anything resembling a terrorist attack since then. Sure, I have seen every American who gets onto an airplane tighten his seat belt with a little extra caution, and I have seen people give mail boxes on the side walks a little extra girth, and I have been told by people to be sure to find the nearest emergency exit every time you enter a new room, and I have passed through metal detectors and been frisked at basketball games, football games, baseball games, college games, high school games, and parcheesi games. My Arab friends have told me that they get cold staring eyes when they go into a store for the first time, when they shop in a shopping mall, when they stop for gas, and when they don't stop for gas.

I guess I can't blame people for being terrified of an imminent attack. Afterall, I heard that many, many, many people have been found photographing and video taping high security structures such as the Washington Monument, the Statue of Liberty, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Golden Gate Bridge. I see trucks lumbering down the highway every day, and I don't know what is in those trucks. That big rig passing me on the left, could be full of nuclear waste headed to a terrorist bomb factory in Colorado... I just don't know.

You know, the lady I saw in the grocery store last night stocking up on canned tuna, could be harboring terrorists in her basement. I heard they like tuna. I should really see what she's been up to. While I'm at it, I heard one of my co-workers talking about the president today, and I think he said something like "I wish he hadn't been elected." I can only conclude that he is a terrorist. I should really see if I can break into his computer to track his internet usage. I'm sure he's got ties to Hezbollah.

Oh, and you know all those people in the library? Reading books? I'll bet they are trying to build some kind of post-modern coup intended to bleach morality and goodness out of America. I should probably report them to someone.

And I should slam on my brakes more often when people are tailgating me. Chances are, they're on their way to a beheading, and if I cause a huge accident on the highway, I might save a hostage's life.

And you know what else? Everyone has these "American" flags hanging on their houses and on their cars... but I don't trust them. Afterall, if I was a terrorist, the first thing I would do would be to disguise myself by hanging an American flag on my porch. I sure am glad I found out about this whole terrorism thing. I didn't notice it before, but you know, we're surrounded.

I know that terrorists are actually taking hostages, shooting up schools full of children, and driving cars full of explosives into government buildings, and blowing up city blocks in other parts of the world that claim to be in the midst of a terrorist crisis, but I don't know that the treat of terrorism is as real anywhere else as it is in America. We really are in emminent danger. Thank goodness we have a God fearing president who isn't afraid to provoke war on soveriegn nations and send our boys off to die before the terrorists start flying planes again.

If you think 9.11 was bad, just wait until all of those "postal workers" start filling the mail with anthrax. I heard it's coming. Every American who doesn't want to die should go hide in a basement. If you're not in the basement by now, it's probably because you're a terrorist.

Sunday, April 10, 2005

Great Weekend

This weekend shaped up to be one of the best weekends in a long time, strictly because it was open and full of free time. I am going to have to learn to treasure these weekends because they are sure to be fleeting.

Thursday after work a few friends went to Jillian's to play pool and have a beer. We didn't have to go into the office on Friday so I enjoyed hanging out with my co-workers at the bar.

After Jillian's, I went to Fridays in Canton with my friend Rebekah and met two of her friends, Steve and David. They got married in Hawaii about a year ago, making them the only married homosexual couple that I know. I'm glad they managed to do it before it was outlawed and their civil rights were permanently stripped from them. Hopefully when the law makers start their witch hunt, those who managed to get marriage certificates before the soon to come puritanical oppression will be grandfathered into legal recognized marraiges.

After dinner at Fridays, I drove home and went straight to bed. I slept in Friday morning, and after waking up, I played poker online till my eyes bled. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful slag of a morning. It sounds a bit terrible to enjoy having been so slothful, but hey, every now and then it's fun to be a waste of space.

I finally wrestled myself out of the chair and went for a quick run. When I got back, my brother and I went to the driving range and hit a bucket of balls. (Terribly, I might add.) And then I went down to Canton to play poker with some friends. I did pretty well, but didn't place in the money, so I called Babs and Sean and we played nine-ball for a while. Good times. We hung out at Fiddlesticks until 2:00 am and then I spent the night at Babs' house.

Saturday morning I awoke in Babs' house with Carrie, and she and I spent the morning watching the crocodile hunter, eating oatmeal, and chatting here and there. I love spending time with Babs and Carrie, and I'm glad to have them both as friends.

I went home, washed out my car, and went for a run in the Metroparks. Had a beautiful run. Found a three mile deer trail somewhere off a bridle trail and just chugged along through the woods all by myself.

Then Babs and Carrie came into Cleveland and we went to a Cavs game. Cavs beat the bucks by twenty points, and we went to the Fox and the Hound to play some pool. Pool sucked because there was a group of people having a party right by the table and they kept sitting on the table as we played and refused to get out of our way when we needed to shoot. So, we left and I went to bed.

Sunday I woke early, played with the dog, went to Church, sat with Andrew and Jeff Leon. Great service this morning, big weight lifted off my chest when I heard Harry say that I didn't have to emulate Christ on my own. I guess I've been wrestling with that for a while. I know that I am to emulate Him, but I can trust other members of the Church to help me emulate Him by doing those things that I am not very good at. Or something. More on this later I'm sure.

After church, Matt Harbert and I went to lunch at Jillian's in Akron. Great talks about heaven and hell and girls we like. (Both subjects line up remarkably well.)

Then I drove home and sat on the back porch through a beautiful spring day finishing the third book in the Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Events." I purchased the books for my children even though I don't have any children yet. I've taken to writing notes in the books to my kids so that when I do have kids, and they are old enough to read, they will be drawn to the books. Hopefully, I'll be able to make some good readers out of my children.

Then I went downstairs and sanded and stained a bookshelf I've been building. After cleaning my hands, I came up here and turned on the boob-tube and started my blog. What an absolutley wonderful weekend. I'm sorry I didn't go to Nyack this weekend as I had the opportunity to, but I think this weekend was everything I needed it to be.


Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames

I watched a performance of the Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames show at a nearby church last night. A co-worker was in the show and she got a bunch of free tickets, so a bunch of us went to see her in the play.

I thought the actors did a fabulous job with the show considering that they only had two days to memorize their lines and blocking. Throughout the play, groups of people die, and then they are painfully separated outside of the gates of heaven. Some are dragged screaming into hell with the devil maniacally laughing at the crowd, and some are greeted by Jesus at the top of the stairs after an angel finds their name in the Book of Life.

In one particularly mind numbing scene, a little girl and her mother are outside the gates, and the mother is being dragged into hell while the daughter screams "I love you mom! Don't go mom!" After her mother is thrown into the eternal fire of hell, the angels sing hallelujah, and Jesus comes out to bring the little girl into heaven.

Maybe I'm crazy, but I don't think it will be like that at all. I'm not saying I don't believe in Hell, but I am saying I don't believe in a merciless Christ.

This is what I think. After I die, I'll arrive at a place right outside heaven, and I'll see things I have never seen before. I'll see angels. And like every human being who saw an Angel in scripture, I'll be afraid of them. I will remember my own unholiness, my own unrighteousness, and I will drop to the ground in fear. Beyond the Angels there will be a lake of fire. Beyond that lake of fire I will sense the undeniable force of the most Holy God looming at the horizon flooding the land beyond it with his Omnipotence, his Omnipresence, his Holiness, his Righteousness. I will sit outside those gates looking at the terrifying wheel-shaped Angels with many wings and hundreds of eyes, and they will comfort me. They will tell me not to fear. They will explain to me that God is in the land beyond.

"The Lord God resides beyond the Lake of Fire" they will say, "And you may join him there. In order to go to him however, you must walk through the fire here. In that fire, all of the filth and sin you acquired on Earth will be burned away. When you get to the other side, you will be clean and new, and there you will join with God. "

At that point, my heart will swell, and I will remember the God that I longed to see while alive on Earth, and I will swallow my fear, and through a faith that Christ has indeed forgiven my sins, I will venture through those gates and into Heaven.

Through those gates there will be a raging fire. That fire will burn like the furnace of the sun around me, and as I walk through that fire, I will maintain my faith that the work of Christ will preserve me as my sins are consumed. I have faith that I will not be destroyed in that refining fire. I will feel myself being purified as my sins are eaten like chaff in the fire. After my walk through the fire, I will find myself in Heaven with God. What that will be like, I refuse to guess.

Someone else will die after me. That same person will see those same angels and will have the same fear. Beyond those angels, that person will sense the same perfection looming over the Heavens. That person will be told to walk through the fire just as I had done, and that person will then do so.

As soon as that person steps into the fire, he or she will realize where it is that he or she is going. They will consider the sins that they have committed, as these things are burned away during their walk through the fire. If this person has no faith that Christ has forgiven them for their sins, they will fear that they are going to be consumed along with their sins. At that point, when their faith in the salvific power of the Cross is lost, that person will loose hope. In fear that the fire will destroy them entirely, that person will stop in the fire at the point they have reached thus far, and remain there, afraid to go any deeper lest they be consumed. That person will be in Hell, and there he or she will remain.

But, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'll get to Heaven and God will be there casting people into a lake of fire and making little girls cry as their mothers are sent to eternal torture. But personally, I see the scriptures depicting a different God. I see a loving God who accepts anyone who wants to be with him. I see a loving God who forgives people through the work of the death of his son on the cross, and I see salvation being conditional on our reliance on that sacrifice. If we have faith in Christ, it is through that faith that we will see heaven. Without that faith, we will not survive the refining fire, and we will not see the Kingdom of God. I guess we'll see.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Barbara Byrd-Bennett

Byrd-Bennett is the CEO of the Cleveland Public School district. That school district is responsible for educating 70,000 students, and is currently running a reported 68 million dollar defecit this year. Let's look at some of Barbara Byrd-Bennett's expenses that have run her school into the red:

First of all, Byrd-Bennett's yearly salary is over $250,000. With that in mind, ask yourself why she needs the school systems and private donations to fund the rest of this stuff.

May, 2002 - Byrd-Bennett went on a trip to England and stayed at Herrod's. I didn't know what Herrod's was, so I checked it out. Herrod's website claims that it "promises one of the most extravagant and luxurious shopping experiences in the world." Oh. Okay. Glad that money was spent wisely. Keep in mind that many toilets don't work at East Tech.

July, 2002 - Byrd-Bennett takes a trip to Maui and stays at the Kapula Ritz Carlton. Average room at the Kapula Ritz Carlton? $495 per night. During those five days, she spent $1,082.18 on meals. That's $216 spent on food each day. Or over 70 bucks per meal.

Later that year, Byrd-Bennett buys a business class ticket from Cleveland to Washington D.C. for $1,300. When asked why she had to get such expensive seats, Byrd-Bennett explained that she had a medical condition that made it necessary for her to fly first-class and showed a doctor's note to prove it. When she was asked what a normal person with the same condition should do if they couldn't afford the first class tickets, she replied "I don't know, I guess I don't think I'm your normal person."

Later, she went to dinner in Cleveland Heights. She ate steaks, lobster and beer, and only spent $428.38 on dinner. There is no documentation of the attendants of this dinner, but we were assured that this was a business meeting. I wish they served beer at my meetings.

$256,000 is held in the annual budget for the "Support and Development Fund" which is at the exclusive disposal of Byrd-Bennett.

How about this from the Chess for Success Organization? "The Cleveland schools have supported us financially by providing the chess sets and paying for the expenses involved in our year-end Chess Challenge, a tournament and exhibition at the downtown public library. These expenses include transportation, lunches, table rental, trophies and medals for every student involved in our program." Sounds nice, but why didn't we use that money to buy text books? Did someone forget that students have to share
text books?

Byrd-Bennett called the District auditor's office to complain about her property taxes, demanding that they be cut. She spoke with a woman named Kathy Guy. After the phone calls, her property taxes were cut, and the estimated value of her parcel of land fell more than $15,000 overnight. Today, her property taxes are $200 a month cheaper than her next door neighbor who has a smaller parcel of land. When reporters asked Byrd-Bennett about the issue, she replied, "I have never talked to anyone at the county auditor's office. I have never challenged the assessments or taxes." Kathy Guy's response to this was: "I'm hoping she just forgot. I don't want to say she's a liar, but you know, I spoke to her. I swear I spoke to her."

Oh, did I mention that Byrd-Bennett gets a company car and two escorts to drive her wherever she goes, and the top brass at the school board get up to $500 a month toward car payments? Meanwhile, the Cleveland public school system has been forced to cut back on bussing students because it's too expensive.

Gerry Stueber is a teacher at East Tech. What did he say about conditions in the Cleveland Public School? "We have big fights, lots of fights in the school, and end up with kids macing each other and getting mace on staff members.” Where is the money going that could staff more security?

Recently the ACLU began an investigation into Barbara Byrd-Bennett's method of forming "work groups" through which the School's budget is developed. The ACLU says, "“It appears that the purpose of these so-called ‘work groups’ is to circumvent Ohio’s Sunshine Laws & secretly conduct official business away from public view. The district is engaged in an open meetings ‘shell game’ purposely designed to minimize public input."

So, that's the way Cleveland tax dollars are being raised and spent. I'm not saying that running an inner-city school district is an easy job. I am saying that a school running at a 28 million dollar defecit should cut company cars, and expensive Maui vacations before they start cutting bussing and teachers.

In 2003, Barbara Byrd Bennett fired 52 assistant principles and 172 school teachers because of the budget crises. Only days later she was given a $54,000 bonus for her work. The average teacher's salary in the Cleveland Public School system is less than $30,000/year. Something has to change.

Hundreds of teachers were cut from the payroll last year because the Cleveland public school system could not afford them. This school year, books are being used for the twelfth consecutive year. Two schools have been shut down for over five days this year because they can't keep the heat on. Paint crumbles off the walls in the hallways, locker doors have been ripped off in some schools, toilets are broken, and in many schools, the janitorial staff is too small to clean the entire school every night.

What does Barbara Byrd-Bennett have to say for all of this? Let me quote a letter she sent to the parents of students enrolled in the Cleveland Public Schools.

"Dear Parent/Guardian:

The 2004-2005 school year opens with unprecendented challenges and demands on District resources. We must do more with less. While many of our existing initiatives will continue, many more will be drastically curtailed or eliminated.

This year, the District must severely curtail the number of District-wide communications we have used in the past to keep you informed and involved. Therefore, I am asking you to become an even stronger advocate for your child. Make it your business to contact your child's school if you have any questions about anything affecting his or her education..."

For the amount of money she spent to go to Maui, the School District could have purchased 115 new $35 text books.

She told you to call if you were worried about anything getting in the way of your child's education.

Here's her number: (216) 574-8500