Latest news with #Seventh-DayAdventist
Miami Herald
13-05-2025
- Business
- Miami Herald
Marriott worker scheduled to work Sabbath in violation of her religion, suit says
A Marriott employee's new boss told her she had to work the Sabbath, in violation of her religion, after she had received an exemption for two years, according to a federal lawsuit filed in Florida. The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission said it failed to reach an early settlement with the Marriott Vacations Worldwide Corporation and Marriott Ownership Resorts, so it filed a religious discrimination lawsuit in the Middle District of Florida on May 5. McClatchy News reached out to Marriott for comment on the lawsuit May 13 but did not immediately receive a response. The former employee, a Seventh-Day Adventist, said she told her employer that she couldn't accept the job if she had to work Saturdays because that was the day of worship and rest in her religious practice, according to the lawsuit. 'Because her religion is central to her life, (the woman) discloses her religion to potential employers and informs potential employers that she cannot work Saturdays during interviews,' the commission's attorneys wrote in the filing. Her boss at the time granted that request, and she was hired in May 2021 selling timeshares at one of the hotel chain's properties in Orlando, the filing says. The woman said she did well at the company, and in 2022 transferred to a position that involved higher commission with the same managers, but then two new managers began to oversee her role, according to the complaint. Her new managers asked her former boss about her exemption from working Saturdays, then they informed her she was going to be placed on 'overage,' which was typically seen as a punishment in the division, and scheduled her to work Saturdays for May 2023, the lawsuit says. The employee told the manager that working the Sabbath violates her religion, but he told her she had to come in anyway, so she reported to human resources that she was being discriminated against for her religion, according to the filing. She didn't come in for her Saturday shifts in May, then she had a call with HR toward the end of the month, in which the HR representative told her she had to work Saturdays if she was scheduled, the lawsuit says. She went to her regional director, who told her the same, and she continued to be scheduled to work Saturdays, the complaint says. She resigned June 1, 2023, according to the lawsuit. Federal officials say Marriott Vacations Worldwide Corporation and Marriott Ownership Resorts failed to provide reasonable religious accommodation, retaliated against their employee and constructively discharged her by creating a condition in which she had no choice but to leave. The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission is seeking back pay and punitive damages on the former employee's behalf.
Buzz Feed
11-05-2025
- General
- Buzz Feed
How I Broke Free From Purity Culture's Grip
'Girls, when a man goes to the store to buy a shirt, does he pick up the old one on the floor that's been tried on and wrinkled? Or does he want a shirt straight out of the package, all nice and clean?' Mr. Walsh, our main academy religion teacher, literally foamed at the mouth when he got excited. He dabbed ineffectually at it now with the tail of a button-down oxford before gleefully tossing it to the stage floor. 'Of course, a man always wants a brand new shirt!' he squealed, trampling the unfortunate item. 'He doesn't want the dirty one that other men have worn out!' In my Seventh-Day Adventist church school, we didn't have sex ed. We had obligatory 'marriage and family' classes in which the devil-influenced slide from handholding to fornication was carefully charted to hammer home a singular message: Any frisky business before and outside of heterosexual marriage was a deadly sin. In case anyone missed the message, we also had periodic five-day revival-style 'weeks of prayer' with guest speakers and ultra-dramatic presentations like Mr. Walsh's shirt stomping. During that week we had witnessed the lock that opens for any key (disgusting! useless!) versus the key that opens any lock (valuable! admirable!). We had seen the chewed gum, the licked cupcake, the denuded rose, the dirty dollar. And now, finally, the discarded, soiled shirt that had been 'stained and stretched out by other men.' Girls — and our appearance — effectively carried the entire weight of our faith's fanatical fear of sex: It was our fault if we strayed and it was our fault if men strayed. It was impossible to monitor us too severely. We were reviewed, critiqued, admonished, shamed and often forcefully corrected. Our hemlines were measured and adjusted, our makeup wiped off and our necklines yanked up. I was not in the mood that particular day for yet another lesson in the treacherous condition of being female and what we wore, how we looked, what we said and where we went. Just that morning I had been shamed and sent to the school office, where they kept a bottle of fingernail polish remover for girls with harlot tips. Still seething and smelling of acetone, I scanned the teachers and administrators on the stage behind Mr. Walsh. They were all so rabidly wary, on alert, with the faint hysteria — a strange, subterranean panic — that always permeated these demonstrations and lectures: a weird, desperate earnestness mixed with fear. I could never pinpoint exactly what inspired it. As I watched Mr. Walsh's triumphant trampling, it dawned on me: They were utterly terrified we were going to discover something very exciting and powerful about the supposedly naughty bodies under our tightly regulated, modest fashions. It had something to do with our untrustworthy female forms, which were apparently so dangerous to ourselves and others that we were not capable of or allowed to police them ourselves, so everyone else had to do it for us. If it terrified them so much, I had to find out what it was all about. So I went on a sex hunt. The evangelism-soaked walls of my 300-student SDA academy were clearly not a safe quarry for my search, so I started reading the newspaper sports page, scrutinizing athletes at the nearby public high school like a college scout. It didn't take much studying to make my pick: Our dinky town had been improbably graced by an exchange student, Nicholas Bonetti, a dark-eyed jock with a body and bone structure worthy of any classical sculptor. He played football and basketball. I had barely been kissed, but just like that, I had made my decision: Nick would be the recipient of my virginity. Decision and execution were two bewilderingly different things, however. Competitive sports were a sin, according to our prophetess, Ellen G. White, so I had no firsthand experience with organized athletic events. I quickly learned — much to my disgust — that fall was for football. The whole confusing scene was too spread out, too chaotic and way too dark for long-distance seduction, and I fumed for many chilly nights under dim stadium lights, swaddled in shapeless cold-weather gear. It was clearly impossible to clinch a conquest from afar in a parka. In January, however, basketball season brought perfect star-athlete hunting conditions — infinitely more flattering indoor apparel for all, under bright lighting, in confined quarters. I wore the most immodest, brightest shirts I had and positioned myself in the stands wherever Nick's team bench had a direct view of me. I did not have time for subtlety. I lingered in the stands after games. I loitered outside the team bus as they loaded and unloaded at away games. Alas, it all seemed for naught — nothing happened. Then, just as the season wound down, there was a stroke of luck: I learned that Nick had a job at the local pizza restaurant, a tiny cement structure on the corner of our one-stoplight intersection. The next day, I waltzed into the restaurant sporting a 1940s velvet cocktail ensemble, which featured a jewel-encrusted skirt that flared open to reveal hot-pink accordion pleats and a thigh-high slit, a plunging off-shoulder velvet top and long satin opera gloves. I had full Vogue-worthy maquillage and classic '80s hair, sprayed high and wide. And a hat. And a veil. And a feather. Even I knew I was comically overdressed for a high-noon pizzeria visit at the stoplight. But I was betting that I was not too overdressed to start a conversation and end up without my virginity. I was not wrong. Nick and I went on a handful of dates over a couple of weeks, but I made it clear to him I was on the accelerated track ― in the AP class ― with sex, as with everything else. He was a bit thrown off by my determination and asked several times if I was sure I was ready. I was acutely aware that it wasn't so much concern for me as it was his fear that I would freak out on him, like that girl with the really long hair that everybody knows who insists on getting a pixie cut and then, once she gets it, screams and cries on the floor for hours and won't go to school for weeks. I assured him I was not that girl. So, we awkwardly embarked on my defrocking. He was kind but hesitant as we went through the motions. I was stumped when he asked if it hurt. I had no idea, and I couldn't have cared less. I was so excited I couldn't feel a thing. It was not sexual excitement — I didn't know what that was — it was the frenzied escape, the release of all that pent-up and forbidden 'no' that had been instilled in me. I was not giving my virginity away — it was not a gift, and it was not being taken. I was giddily destroying it, tossing it aside, stomping on it. Like Mr. Walsh's shirt. It was over very quickly, and I felt so accomplished. I had done it, this thing that was so huge, so fraught, so shamed and feared and forbidden — and so managed and administered and patrolled and protected. And I waited for the terrible guilt, the ripping away of that supposedly sacred piece of me, the loss of self and soul that would transform me into a foul and useless waste of humanity. I felt nothing. There was nothing. And there would continue to be nothing through several subsequent decades of impersonal, detached sex. Sex with a statement. Sex with an agenda. Sex with a vengeance. Wild sex. Deviant sex. Stupid sex. Good sex. Bad sex. But none of it belonged to me. It never had. Sex had been utterly depersonalized with so much baggage and so much moral weight before I could ever understand it, much less claim it. It was never about the meaning or feeling. It was about the act and, as always, the only value was in the performance. The appearance. Just like that shirt. The church had been totally wrong about sex and everything that came with it, but, despite everything I tried, I had never been able to figure out how to make it right. Two marriages, two children and several serious boyfriends later, I was still trying on sex to fit men, striving to be that possession that covered them beautifully and made them look good. Folding myself neatly and putting myself on display: the unsightly parts tucked away, suffocating in the cellophane wrapper until I stabbed the unsuspecting wearer with the excruciating pins of my pose. Then one day I was back watching a football game — this time on a screen, in a bar. A woman sat next to me and complimented me on my Robert Graham button-down shirt with a colorful print and contrasting cuffs that collectors covet. I complimented her on her Robert Graham button-down shirt with a colorful print and contrasting cuffs that collectors covet. We talked through the entire game. And through dinner the next night. And through all the breakfasts, lunches and workout dates since we met. In a radical departure for me, I have not slept with her yet. I am no longer on the sexual fast-track. I never imagined that I might be interested in a woman. It certainly wasn't on my church's 'marriage and family' chart. So now, as with every other delicious new thing I'm discovering — with whomever and whatever that brings into my life — I am taking it as it goes. I have found it goes in interesting ways if you let it. And I have finally figured out what Mr. Walsh and company were all so scared of. It wasn't just sex. It was of us claiming our bodies and owning the sex and the pleasure and power that we could achieve if we did. They didn't want us to know we could chew all the gum, eat all the cupcakes, unlock all the doors and throw out all the keys. They didn't want us wearing the shirts ourselves. There are so many of them in our collective human closet, and you never know which one is going to fit until you try it on for size. Note: Names and details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals mentioned in this essay. Melissa Duge Spiers is an award-winning screenwriter and memoirist. This essay is excerpted from her memoir 'The Glory Whole,' which won the Book Pipeline 2021 Unpublished Manuscript Non-Fiction award and is currently in the publishing process (for more info, check out her Instagram @
Time of India
25-04-2025
- Health
- Time of India
How did this doctor live to a ripe old age of 101? Know his health and diet secret
Making mindful lifestyle choices—such as cutting back on sugar and avoiding tobacco—can significantly enhance both lifespan and quality of life. This belief is exemplified by Dr. John Scharffenberg , a renowned nutrition expert born in December 1923, who continues to flourish well into his second century. At 101, Dr. Scharffenberg has become a global symbol of vibrant aging, defying conventional assumptions about longevity. #Pahalgam Terrorist Attack Pakistan suspends Simla pact: What it means & who's affected What is India's defence muscle if it ever has to attack? Can Pakistan afford a full-scale war with India? In a recent conversation with Surrey Live, Dr. Scharffenberg opened up about the lifestyle principles that have supported his active, fulfilling life. Interestingly, he downplayed the role of hereditary luck. His father died of a heart condition at 76, his mother passed in her 60s, and both of his brothers are no longer alive—making his age and vitality all the more remarkable. Residing with his son in North Fork, nestled in the Sierra Nevada foothills, Scharffenberg still travels internationally to share his health insights. A retired professor at Loma Linda University's School of Public Health, he lectured in Madagascar and Europe last year and has a speaking event planned in Las Vegas in 2025. Over the years, he has distilled his healthy habits into seven key practices he has faithfully followed: by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Google Brain Co-Founder Breaks His Silence: Read These 5 Books And Turn Your Life Around Blinkist: Andrew Ng's Reading List Undo Keep Moving Physical activity has always been central to Scharffenberg's lifestyle. He attributes much of his strength and endurance to working on his own land in California's San Joaquin Valley, where he once carved out a road and planted thousands of strawberries and dozens of fruit trees. 'The crucial time to be active is between 40 and 70,' he said. 'That's when most people slow down—but that's exactly when you need movement the most.' Say No to Tobacco A firm believer in clean living, Dr. Scharffenberg has avoided all forms of smoking. Aware of the severe health threats posed by tobacco—including cancer, diabetes, and organ damage—he chose early on never to touch it. Avoid Alcohol Rejecting popular claims that moderate alcohol use can be beneficial, Scharffenberg has completely abstained from drinking, maintaining that even occasional use isn't necessary for good health. Stay Lean To prevent diseases like heart issues and cancer, he practices intermittent fasting—eating only breakfast and lunch and skipping dinner entirely. This method helps him maintain a low body fat percentage. Cut Back on Meat Following the teachings of his Seventh-Day Adventist faith, Scharffenberg eliminated meat from his diet in his 20s, embracing a fully plant-based approach. Slash Sugar Intake He has nearly eliminated sugar from his meals, tweaking recipes and opting for natural sweetness from fruits and nuts. Limit Saturated Fats He avoids high-fat foods such as butter, cheese, and red meat, advocating instead for a balanced vegetarian diet. 'The ideal diet is a plant-based one,' he says. 'I hope everyone chooses a path toward healthy living .'
