BCNW
B.C.N.W.
Brethren of Christ’s New World
This small book describes this member sect of the Plymouth Brethren segment of Christendom. It is, in fact, fictitious, however it does reflect a great deal of what does exist within the spectrum from Exclusive Brethren to Open Brethren. Information on each group can be found on Wikipedia and most of the intermediary sects have their own websites. There is no intention by the author to denigrate nor to promote any of them. It just attempts to make some aspects clear for the sake of the Gordon girl’s story.
Its—that is, the sect and the booklet—reason for existence is that three of the Gordon girls spent several years within the sect and their experiences are described in “Resilience tried and tested”; this volume just amplifies that part of the story for anyone interested in this form of Christian religion.
The book contains a poem plus some history of Plymouth Brethren from is roots breaking away from the Church of England in the early nineteenth century.
For active believers, churchgoers, it may well be of interest.
Alyss’s introduction to Brethren Meetings
A Ward of the State, Alyss Gordon, at age ten years, had been transferred from the guardianship of her Auntie May Ryles to that of Aunt Iris Cowper. She felt like a delicate little flower dug up from one garden and transplanted into another, or like a caged bird handed over from one pet owner to another. She did not know why. Now she must live with Miss Cowper, a member of some strange religious group called Brethren of Christ’s New World, that they referred to as “BCNW”. Suddenly, what had been her experience attending Sunday School classes at the Presbyterian Church at Newcastle is eclipsed by the assertion of her new aunt that she must forsake the past and accompany her to the “meetings” of the BCNW, a “much better place”. Her protests, like those of her sisters the year before, are overridden and she has no way of resisting this demand, even though it is against the assurances to her by the officers of the NSW Department of Child Welfare.
Alyss soon found that this “better place” involved a regular rota of meetings. Whereas at Newcastle she had considered, from observation, that “Church” was for Sundays, to her great shock, as well as the Breaking of Bread on Sundays, there was also a Prayer Meeting on Mondays, a Bible Reading on Wednesdays and a Preaching Meeting on Sunday evenings locally, and in the city a Bible Reading Meeting and address each Sunday, as well as a monthly meeting for Care and Assembly Business on a Saturday and one other monthly meeting for Prophetic Ministry on Tuesdays, at night. It seemed like an enormous amount of going to “Church”.
Iris Cowper’s local meeting hall was about three quarters of a mile from her house, up the slight incline of Georges River Road off in a side street. Mr Rob Burgess had become “leading brother” and did all he could to help and teach and guide brethren in the various meetings, in discussions afterwards and in his own home. He and his wife, Enid, made a point of inviting local brethren home for meals on Lord’s Days (Sundays were always referred to as Lord’s Days) and also on occasional Saturdays, just to socialise and entertain the few children in the parish. Now, Miss Cowper had taken in her orphaned nieces and they felt it important to spend time with them to ensure their progress in all things spiritual, such as one can with children.
Alyss’s trust of men had previously been sorely scarred; the apparent abandonment by her own father (although she believed there must have been a good reason for his disappearance), her observation of the violent outbursts and disgusting drunken behaviour of Uncle Frank and her experience of personal interference at the vile hands of Uncle Willson, had caused her to fear rather than trust men.
Mr Gawler, who had looked after them briefly at Newcastle, had been nice; at least he was one good one.
Mr Burgess was different, too; being local with him and his family, and spending some time at his home, she found she really liked him. He was nice, kind and caring, so different from those awful relatives, and more like how an uncle should be. He was definitely a good man and so were other brothers she had met in the Brethren group, like Haargen Van der Hoorst, for one. Alyss remembered with fondness Mr Reith, their pastor at Newcastle, too. As she thought more about it, she reasoned that maybe only some men were bad; perhaps she could learn to trust again.
The role of “pastor” required a brother to care for the welfare, especially spiritually, of those within his local parish, or on a wider scale if he were one of the city elders. The role of the “priest”, on the other hand, was to care for the things of God by dealing with any matter that arose contrary to the standards of the Fellowship, standards deemed righteous and appropriate for believers. An elder or leading brother would take on these roles as circumstances demanded.
Priestliness, therefore, involved handling matters in light of Scripture and the Ministry, making judgments as to whether disturbing matters could be handled locally or privately, or whether they were significantly unrighteous enough and of such importance that they warranted being presented for judgement to all of the Brethren “in assembly”. At the same time, judgement was required to determine whether the offender could be “helped” (back to righteousness) and their position within the Fellowship saved.
This responsibility fell upon Rob Burgess as a matter of course in the ambit of the Croydon Park parish. Handling matters locally was a constant challenge as he endeavoured, with all his heart, to serve. Iris Cowper provided more than enough to keep him constantly exercised in this activity.
Upon arriving at Croydon Park, it had not taken long for the older girls, Joyce and Eleanor, to realise that they had nowhere else to go, that their former life had come to a crushing end with the death of their mother and disappearance of their father, and their fate had been sealed with the court prosecution of them as “deserted and destitute” children. The magistrate had concurred with the Senior Welfare Officer’s proposal to transfer them, under State guardianship, into the care of their aunts, and with the falling of his gavel that was that.
There was a point where, shortly after arriving at their Aunt Iris’s place, they could see that even their past church affiliations were no longer respected—being deemed just part of “worldly Christendom” —and there was no option but to fall into line with their aunt’s wishes. She was now their guardian and virtually the controller of their lives! To the “Meetings” they must go.
Now arrived to join Joyce and Eleanor, Alyss quickly realised that Aunt Iris was different from their own mother and different again from the other sisters Flora and May, the twins. Although Iris belonged to The Fellowship—and that was supposed to make one a good and nice person—it had soon become clear she could be quite harsh if annoyed. Perhaps Alyss should take Ellie’s advice and be sure to be obedient, or at least appear so, not that she had really thought to be otherwise. This was going to be a very big learning experience and here she was stuck here since Aunt Iris had been made her official guardian. There was no alternative, no escape!
She realised she was now part of a household heavily influenced—it is not incorrect to say: controlled—by a religious organisation, a sect. Iris, when herself a teenager, as she explained, had been converted and convinced to join this fellowship. Therefore, its tenets influenced everything she said or did in her household and she then felt it her duty to ensure that the demands of its ministry, according to her understanding, were strictly adhered to. Alyss, having come from the Presbyterian Church Sunday school, (Joyce from the actual church) had at first found it all quite strange; they had had no option but to fall into line, to become subject to the teachings and restrictions that were deemed to be “Truth” by sect members, and that was not going to be easy.
It was hard to comprehend how Iris Cowper perceived the God she served. He must have seemed a rather harsh god. There were some brothers who preached the “fire and brimstone” gospel with all of its threats of divine retribution for evil, but that was not the norm. Most preached a positive gospel of divine forgiveness and salvation, and imparted a sense of hope and ultimately, joy. There was not a lot of hope presented in Aunt Iris’s discipline, sadly. With any misdemeanour, she made her wards feel like they were very bad and God would punish them frightfully if they did not fall into line pretty soon. She tended to act on His behalf and disciplined them severely, herself. From a strict upbringing and the wrenches involved in joining the Fellowship, although unquestionably a firm “believer”, she seemed mostly to miss the “blessing” side of the Gospel and consequently was not really at peace inside herself as one might expect of a practising Christian. It was sad really; considered a little “eccentric” by some, with limited joy in her fellowship experiences, this passed on to her household.
There, at Hawthorn Avenue, her responsibility, or rather her emphasis upon it, eclipsed any close expressions of love and friendship. Her wards had to be brought up correctly and this involved discipline and control, not mollycoddling. There was not a lot of room left for relaxed and happy dalliances, except perhaps for some games of Scrabble or Snakes and Ladders on the lounge room floor of a Saturday afternoon, but mostly expressions of love were subsumed beneath the necessary discipline and instruction or correction she deemed appropriate. She had, after all, taken this on as a commission from the Lord, no less!
It was essential for Iris to be seen as a dedicated sister among her brethren and a practising Christian by her part-time employers; the impatience, the frustration and explosive temper of this single woman going through the changes of middle life and regrets over the lack of intimate love, as she strove to discipline and guide her young nieces, and with only a minuscule budget, must not be seen outside the walls of her small weatherboard house. Fortunately for her, Rob Burgess’s pastoral care meant he carried what misdemeanours he knew of silently, patiently, with priestly constraint.
It could have been very much otherwise.
(Much of this story is seen from the eyes of 10 year old Alyss, and at times is hilarious. (She had that happy knack of seeing the funny side of very serious things and, of course, this got her into all sorts of trouble!)
The story continues in the book…