Bishops, Kings, and Other Messes

A week ago Bishop Eddie Long splashed through the media again after having been “crowned king” by a guest speaker at one of his worship services.  One of my friends forwarded the video to me.  I ached watching it.  I mentioned it to my wife.  I considered telling my friend that he wasn’t really a friend for sending me such foolishness.  I told Dawn in person and my friends over email that I didn’t know what to say.  That was my initial reaction.  I really didn’t know what to say.  I knew other people would soon be commenting on the fiasco.  But after watching 14 minutes of drama, 14 minutes of what I hoped would be entertainment, I was stunned.  The video was an example, on many levels, of leadership gone wrong.

From the way a guest speaker came in, while Bishop Long continues to deal with a list of problems, to the inconsistencies between the presentation (i.e, the spectacle) and the Jewish (and Christian) community out of which the speaker suggested himself.  It left me shaking my head for days when I learned of it.  So many bad things to be said about this.  None of which have to do with whether and how Bishop Long and/or New Birth impacts or contributes to its community.  All of which are theological and ethical and psychological for me, though I won’t deal with the psychological issues.

This kind of service has no place in the church, be it the black church (however one defines it) or in any Christian local church.  If you watch the original video, which, if you haven’t seen it, I refuse to link to it, there is a confused mixture of music and language that, at least, borders on blasphemy.  Perhaps my paper pieces don’t qualify  me to suggest that the whole show actually is blasphemy.  At least we see the line being approached.

The scene is one of the reasons why I write and teach and preach–to speak out against messes like this.  I think there is a role for theologically careful communication to correct the sad spectacles like the one we saw at New Birth the other week.  Now, I’ve felt something like this in the past, when I served and worshipped in a black church.  But those feelings were nowhere near the fright I feel after thinking about the Ralph Messner/Eddie Long show.

I’ve always been a good critic, sitting a bit off to the side and able to point to inconsistencies between the message and the practice of Christianity.  And in some ways, my days and nights serving at my previous church has aided me in becoming a student and practicioner of faith.  But with all my questions and concerns about how we did church at Sweet Holy Spirit, I never actually raised the idolatry question.  I never conceived of my pastor, who continues to be one of my mentors, as a person who truly sees himself in such magisterial light.  I couldn’t believe Bishop Long went through, sat through, participated in the little ritual where he was draped in a the most sacred document in Judaism, which is also 3/4 of the Christian Scriptures.

The idea that Bishop Long, and the leaders of New Birth, would invite a guest to speak a message that they don’t know ahead of time is concerning.  Despite the pastor’s apology in which his says what he intent wasn’t, I’m a little ticked that he did what the guest asked.  I’m concerned that he, for all the authority he still possesses as a pastor, didn’t lean in next to the guest and whisper that he needed to chill or change direction or check himself or sit his backside down.

The ethical posture of the pastor is to take authority and use it well.  We steward the trust of our congregants, and in our respect for the people we serve, we tell people when they are wrong.  We don’t wait for the service to end.  We don’t write letters when someone else has informed us of our mistakes.  Well, technically we do and that’s good too.  But more importantly, pastors and church leaders attend to our souls and to the intellectual roots of our faith in a way that makes us sensitive to these public displays of dishonor.  We see things going wrong and we stop them.  We don’t watch the train crash without attempting to stop it.

Perhaps a quote from Peter Manseau at RD communicates the spirit of my post.

The coronation of a controversial megachurch minister as a Davidic king by a man who claims “dual citizenship with Israel” as sufficient authority to speak “on behalf of the Jewish people” is undoubtedly one of the most remarkable displays of pluralism gone awry in recent memory.

I’m praying these days that the terrible theater we see going viral on the internet with Bishop Long being hoisted on a chair while a thousand people go wild will turn into a dialogue that is purposeful and meaningful.  I’m hoping that it will cause Bible teachers, clergy, and students of faith to talk and listen and do differently.  I’m hoping that horrific shows like that service won’t hamper my efforts as a congregational leader to win the trust of some soul whose faith is fledgling.  And I’m hoping that for other pastors too.

Kisses, Hugs, Rib Bones, and Accountability

Several of my friends serve as leaders in a ministry.  Several are educators and administrators of schools.  One’s an editor and entrepeneur.  There are writers.  One works for county government, and another adds to his life in ministry by singing and not doing it enough.  A good number of my friends are friends of each other, which isn’t always the case.  Last weekend Patrick Winfield, one of these folks, returned to Chicago from Dallas to speak at his uncle’s church.  So, one of our circle took the lead in organizing an early dinner last Saturday. 

We took up a couple of tables in Carson’s, snapping pictures, slapping backs, and trading kisses and hugs.  It became clear quickly that everyone around the table lived in Chicago and could take more opportunities to snap, slap, and trade.  For some reason, it took Winfield’s arrival to rekindle what is there, what has been there.

You should know that when these gatherings take place, in whatever venue and for whatever purpose–be it a special birthday, somebody’s wedding, a critical decision facing one of our number, or no purpose other than the sad passing of time between these fun evenings–there will be laughing, loud talking, and what many affectionately call “the dozens.”  We haven’t quite grown out of all our adolescent practices. 

We joust and spar verbally.  We argue, doing what I hope is keeping each other on our intellectual and theological toes.  We talk about current events, old events, and any new events we see coming soon.  We ask each other questions and tell each other what to do.

Last Saturday we talked about what many pastors, particularly, but not exclusively, black pastors are talking about–Bishop Eddie Long.

Not all of us were as interested in that particular topic, but the one thing that bounced around our tables was the need for two things, despite whatever comes of Bishop Long’s situation: 1) For us, around the table, to live a clean life; and 2) For us, around the table, to be honest when we couldn’t.  Live clean.  Live well.  Don’t separate honesty from the process.

I thought about how around those tables–tables dressed with rib bones and chicken pieces and potatoes au gratin–sat one of the major requirements for people who want to live well, whether in ministry or not.  Accountability. 

When I hear that word, I think of Mrs. High’s classes at Simeon High School when I first learned of debits and credits and balance sheets.  I learned what it meant to account for things.  I learned that whatever happened on one side of the paper had to be balanced on the other side.  Things were a bit more precise than that.  Accounting is more precise for sure.  But the language of balance and the practice of being critical of one’s transactions connected with me Saturday as we ate and talked and laughed and, underneath those things, prayed.

I don’t think a person can live well without somebody(ies) else contributing to that life.  Being in a relationship, or in a lot of friendships in this current example, is the context for honesty and vulnerability and truth about what and who I am. 

If I didn’t have those faces and stories and sarcastic dialogue partners, those present Saturday and those who clutter my life with love and grace and soul confrontation on all those other days, I’d leave ministry tomorrow.  And not because there’s something looming or some stuff questionable.  Indeed, everyone has something looming at the core in my view.  Still, not because of that.  But because work would be boring, lonely, and impossible without those folks and their jokes and their truth-telling.

Questions for you: What do you need to live well?  Do you think relationships without accountability are real relationships?