A Domination-Free Gospel and Church

At first glance, the scandal involving Harvey Weinstein, the movie producer who has a long history of harassing and abusing women, looks like a single, terrible story of a terrible man who got away with terrible behavior for too long.

But then 38 women came forward to accuse film director, James Toback, of similar behavior. Chef John Besh stepped down from the company he started after two dozen women spoke out about his behavior. And it hasn’t been that long since Bill O’Reilly and Roger Ailes were brought low by harassment claims. And then, of course, there’s President Donald Trump …

The point is, as any woman might tell you if they feel safe enough, that this behavior is far more common than we would like to admit. That’s why the Twitter hashtag #MeToo took off with such intensity.

Unfortunately, the institutional church is not exempt from this behavior. One of the worst cases in recent history involves the former pastor of First United Methodist Church, Fort Worth. Barry Bailey stepped down from his pulpit after multiple women accused him of sexual misconduct; later, a judge ordered him to pay $3.7 million in damages to seven women.

I’m sure you can think of your own examples of pastors who have betrayed the trust that others put in them. Sadly, pastors are not some super-species of the Christian community who are above misconduct.

There is a common thread that runs through all these stories. These are all men with power, and their victims are always people who have less power and are more vulnerable to their advances. And even though these stories always involve sexual acts, the primary motive at work is not simply lust or desire.

The force at work is domination. Harvey Weinstein took advantage of women because he could; he felt entitled to take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

This dynamic isn’t something that only very powerful and wealthy men act out; it can happen anytime someone feels that he or she has power over someone else, and wants to take advantage of that edge.

It’s especially tragic when a pastor engages in this kind of behavior, because it is precisely this kind of behavior that the Gospel opposes. The entire story of Jesus is the story of a man who refused to dominate others. Jesus did not manipulate or coerce others to love him, follow him, or obey him. He let people walk away from him; he didn’t feel the need to prove his divine power or even his true identity.

As Paul said about Jesus in Philippians, “Though he was in the form of God, he did not consider being equal with God something to exploit. But he emptied himself …” (Phil. 2:6-7).

As his followers, we are supposed to imitate this kind of behavior. In other words, even when we find ourselves in a position of power over someone else, we are not to use that position to dominate, force, or coerce. When we find ourselves in a position of leadership, we are to interpret our primary responsibility to be as one who serves, as one who is ready and willing to wash another’s feet.

As your pastor, I am committed to being your servant leader, to being a shepherd who cares for the flock gently and carefully. I am also committed to ensuring that Kessler Park UMC is a safe place for all people, where sexual harassment and abuse is not permitted or condoned, and where all people are treated with dignity and respect. If you have ever been harassed or received unwanted attention by any person at Kessler Park UMC, please notify me or another staff member, and your matter will be addressed immediately.

At KPUMC, there will be no domination, only mutual support, love, and fellowship.

To Live a Ghost Story

Last weekend, our neighborhood was the site of the sixth annual Oak Cliff Film Festival. Thanks to a sponsoring church member, I had access to a VIP pass, which enabled me to attend quite a few films over the weekend.

I geek out over film festivals; my favorites are the shorts and documentaries. But this year, I also got to see the big closing feature film, “A Ghost Story,” written and directed by local David Lowery.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I saw our very own church members, Margot and Sylvie Tomerlin, in a scene! (Spoiler alert: they played pioneer kids in a covered wagon.) I have no doubt that one or the other will end up being a famous performer; remember that Margot is our star liturgical dancer!

The film itself was an eye-opener. Don’t let the title or the marketing materials fool you; this is not a horror film, nor even a suspenseful thriller. And the one best-known actor in the film, Casey Affleck, spends most of the film under a white sheet. To be honest, “A Ghost Story” fits more comfortably in the “arthouse” genre. But don’t let that designation fool you either — the film is accessible to anyone who has just a little more patience than the average “Fast and Furious” filmgoer.

It’s certainly a different kind of movie from most Hollywood fare. For example, a few of the scenes are single takes that last four or five minutes. In one instance, Rooney Mara, playing a bereaved young widow, walks into her apartment and eats an entire pie. The whole thing is captured in only two shots, each of which seem to last forever. But the scene portrays grief in the most authentic manner I have ever seen on-screen.

The film is also very quiet. There is little dialogue, not much background music. Only natural sounds of night and quiet meadows. And so it gives the viewer the chance to really engage, not only intellectually, but emotionally with the striking images.

Yes, the story is about a ghost. The ghost walks around with a white sheet over his head. It sounds gimmicky, but it works in a very interesting way. He doesn’t come across as spooky or ethereal. Rather, the ghost is a clear symbol of loss, of a void.

The ghost functions as a screen upon which the viewer projects his or her own fears about belonging and identity. As I watched the ghost, I found myself wondering about the weighty matters of faith, love, and spirit. It wasn’t so much about the question of the afterlife, but upon what remains when one dies.

This particular ghost found himself rooted to one specific space; his identity was tied up in one location in a very particular period of time. As the people and things which inhabit his space disappear over time, the ghost becomes more and more disoriented; he becomes rootless and restless.

The point is clear: we humans inhabit time and space. Everything we do is bound by our place on the earth, limited by the seventy or eighty years we are given. We can’t transcend those dimensions as human beings, no matter how much we may strive to make ourselves “immortal.”

Only God transcends the dimensions of space and time. And God’s revelation in Jesus Christ makes plain to us what ultimately lasts, what goes on into the distant future, beyond our limited lifespan. Three things remain in the end — faith, hope, and agape/love — says the apostle Paul (I Cor. 13:13).

What matters is faith — the unconditional trust that we place in God’s love.

What matters is hope — the undying flicker of possibility in the future, however distant.

What matters is agape — the love that gives unconditionally and completely to the other.

These are the things that go on, that remain.

I know that I will die someday. But I sure hope that I don’t find myself in a white sheet, loitering around the house long after my death. Instead, I hope to find myself in God’s presence, enjoying the shalom I have sought all my life.

And I pray that my acts of faith, hope, and agape will last for a little while, at least, if only to encourage those who come after me to do the same.