The Face of Faith

CP visits a Philly church that believes God is the best doctor — and the only one.

by Matt Stroud

NOT MUCH TO LOOK AT: The humble facade of First Century Gospel Church in Juniata Park belies an intense belief that God will provide — even when it comes to medical help.

[ religion ]

Two years ago, Herbert and Catherine Schaible placed their infant son, Kent, into bed with apparent flu symptoms and, under the direction of their church pastor, prayed over the boy instead of seeking medical help. The child died in his sleep.

The couple was arrested three months later and charged with involuntary manslaughter. The case went to trial in December, and lasted five days, ending with the jury convicting the Schaibles, finding that even modest medical care for Kent — such as a trip to a doctor or a few doses of Tylenol to reduce the infant's fever — might have saved him.

Last Wednesday, the Schaibles appeared in court again, this time to be sentenced. Herbert Schaible, 42, wore a clean black suit, his graying hair cropped short and stiff. His wife, Catherine, 41, wore gray slacks and a pink long-sleeved sweater. They appeared calm and composed, bearing little resemblance to the mugshots posted in the Daily News and the Inquirer that made them appear disheveled, exhausted and petrified.

Senior Judge Carolyn Engel Temin stated the facts: The Schaibles are lifelong members of First Century Gospel Church, an independent fundamentalist Christian sect that believes, among other things, that seeking medical help goes against the will of God. The two have been married since 1994 and have seven children — four girls and three boys. Herbert is employed as a seventh- and eighth-grade teacher for a school that's supported by the church and that goes only through 10th grade. Catherine is a stay-at-home mom. Their income, the judge noted, is modest.

Pointing out that, according to Pennsylvania state law, "religious freedom is trumped by the safety of the child," Engel Temin handed down her sentence: 10 years probation, the terms of which include a requirement that the Schaibles schedule regular appointments with a "qualified medical person" for all their children and release their children's medical records to probation officers.

"I don't think you are bad people," the judge said. "But I do think you need to comply with your sentence," adding that the "penalty if you do not comply is a jail sentence."

That night, at the invitation of the Schaibles' pastor, CP went to visit their congregation.

First Century Gospel Church is housed in a stucco-covered building sitting inconspicuously among the rowhomes of the city's Juniata Park neighborhood in near-Northeast Philadelphia. It's been there since 1925, and the congregation now numbers about 80 families (virtually all white) comprising 500 members —meaning each couple averages four children, double the national average.

Their affinity for larger families is just one — and not, by a long shot, the most surprising — of several characteristics that set the church far apart from the Christian mainstream.

The members of First Century Gospel Church do not, for example, believe in owning any kind of personal property or land. Upholding this and other tenets caused the church's founding pastor, the grandfather of current pastor Nelson Clark, to split from another fringe, Faith Tabernacle Church, and start his own.

"The building you're standing in is rented. ... All of our houses are rented. I rent my car," explained Clark. "We are ready to drop anything in a moment when God returns — which could be any time."

Clarke, a 69-year-old white man with a gentle and patient tone, was more than happy to explain the articles of his church's faith to CP: no individual possessions, no insurance, no accumulation of wealth. Even education, Clark said, is not to be overdone.

"Our teaching is not to go to college because that is an effort to make your way into the world," he says. "It's an investment. We feel that you should get a solid high school education, and when you leave high school, at that point you trust God for a job and proper employment."

Then there's their belief that seeking medical attention is contrary to the will of God. Asked about the death of the Schaibles' son Kent, Clark says that while the church does mourn the death of Kent and other children who've died, that doesn't change his and his parishioners' "complete and total faith in and reliance upon God." Clark himself says he's never taken medicine and never been to a doctor.

Last Wednesday night's sermon, in fact, dealt with the issue outright.

"Concerning our family here and their persecution by local authorities, the judge was very understanding and seemed to fully understand the situation facing us," Clark told the assembled congregation, Herbert Schaible among them. "She wanted to respect their religious beliefs, and we thank the Lord for that."

After a few songs, a second pastor read testimonials from church families about times God took care of them — as a doctor might — in trying times. One, for example, described how God helped the person stay strong in the face of a grating toothache. Another described an infant nearly strangled to death by its car seat after the child's parents failed to properly secure the child's legs.

"The child did not appear to be alive," the pastor read aloud. "[I] pulled the child loose from the strap and held the child in my arms and began praying for God and his mercy to restore my child's breath of life. After a few anxious minutes, which seemed to be forever, the child began to breathe. ... We thank God for restoring our child's life."

It's exactly this kind of terrifying situation that makes authorities, from child welfare workers to lawmakers to public health officials, cringe. The freedom to worship as we please is as deeply ingrained in the American way as any we possess. But what if the child had died even though an EMT team could have saved him? What if going to a hospital would have made the difference?

After the two-hour service concluded, City Paper caught up with Herbert Schaible (his wife and infant child had stayed home), who had been sentenced just hours earlier and was still wearing the same suit he'd had on in court.

Schaible was reserved but not unfriendly, and spoke with CP in a quiet, calm voice.

He said he considers the sentence handed down to him and his wife fair. He explained he will do his best to comply with the orders of his probation, which require that he and his wife allow their children to be checked up on by medical professionals.

But what if those professionals determine that the kids require medical treatment and need to go to a doctor's office or hospital to get it? In that situation, Schaible's religious beliefs run in direct contradiction to a court order. What would he do?

"We're not trying to live 10 years at one time," he responded. "And when tomorrow comes, God will be with us. So that's the way we look at it. He will show us what to do."

(matt.stroud@citypaper.net)