July 31

Yes brethren, it's the last day of July and no more sleeps to go. After weeks of anticipation we can all finally yell out...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERB!

The apostle was born in Old Des Moines today in 1892. Fireworks and revelry began at midnight as millions poured out of cities like New Auckland and Lomaville (formerly Sydney) to pay homage to God's Right Hand Man, who has just returned from his 33rd Universe-wide junket visiting alien government heads in Andromeda on behalf of the Government of God. The biggest celebrations have yet to commence when the first rays of the sun strike the New Temple in Armstrong City (formerly Jerusalem) in a few hours time. Since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returned in glory in 1975 the world has been transformed into a true Garden of Eden, and we are all very, very grateful. Just yesterday the resurrected Richard "Dick" Armstrong placed the final shovel full of soil - removed in 1982 from the summit of Mount Everest - into what had been the Atlantic Ocean. Prophecy is being fulfilled before our eyes!

Not even the rebellion of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can dampen the thrill of this year's Herbalmass; after all, we're all aware of other sons who went wrong. Exactly where HWMNBN will establish his new rebel headquarters is as yet unknown, but Herbert W. Armstrong, now promoted to fill his executive role, has ruled out a possible location in the Sides of the North. Roderick C. Meredith, now number 3 following the defection of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, is quoted in The Happier, Bestest Ever News as saying: "let him camp out in the Dog Star."

Meanwhile "Kscribe" has released his annual birthday bash tribute to the Mighty One at www.herbertwarmstrongvideo.net, please report any family members who fail to view it to the local enforcement office in your area.

Birth of an Apostle?

114 years ago tomorrow, July 31 1892, Herbert W. Armstrong was born in Des Moines. Not a man to encourage the celebration of birthdays, he nonetheless - unlike the children of his later followers - had the pleasure of receiving a 9th birthday party his mother organized, a photograph of which remained with the man-who-would-be-apostle throughout his life.

Like John Brown, Herb Armstrong's body lies a-mouldering in its grave. A man who built a religion and recruited his family into key positions (brother Dwight, son-in-law Vern Mattson, son Garner Ted), there remains only a shadow of the church he built and an absence of his descendants among its adherents.

Devotees of Armstrongism will scarcely mark this day, any more than they mark their own birth dates, but for those of us who've moved beyond his baneful influence (around 80% of the membership just over a decade ago) it's a chance to pause and consider the man, his motivations and his impact.

His impact on the world, or even the religious world was minimal. He barely makes the footnotes in reference works. But his impact in our lives was of another order.

As for his motivations, that's a complex question. Did he really believe what he preached? If not, how do you understand the attitude to medical intervention following his son Dick's fatal car crash? If he did, how do you explain his convenient rewriting of church doctrine to allow the marriage to divorcee Ramona? Perhaps he ended up convincing himself of his own fictions. As David Robinson observed, the web is so tangled it is almost impossible to peer beyond it.

While it is certain that Herbert Armstrong's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, it's less certain that his soul goes marching on. Perhaps its appropriate that for each one of his imitators in 2006, the followers of Pack, Meredith, Flurry and a gaggle of other wannabes, there are so many more who have reintegrated into a life unconnected with Herbert's grandiose vision.

And that, I think, is a cause for optimism.