Showing posts with label Mars Hill Controversy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mars Hill Controversy. Show all posts
Monday, February 11, 2008
Sermon from a friend
Here's a link to a friend's sermon, preached at the consecration of Jeff Lee as the Episcopal Bishop of the Diocese of Chicago. Really moving, I think, and not irrelevant to the ongoing church leadership conversation.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Church Leaders and Narcissism
For those of you who've been following the Mars Hill/St. Mark's situations, here's some interesting info from Wikipedia on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, submitted without comment: (link)
DSM Criteria
A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:[1]
has a grandiose sense of self-importance
is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brillance, beauty, or ideal love
believes that he or she is "special" and unique
requires excessive admiration
has a sense of entitlement
is interpersonally exploitative
lacks empathy
is often envious of others or believes others are envious of him or her
shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes
(see also: Full list in DSM-IV-TR)
- Lifetime prevalence is estimated at 1% in the general population and 2% to 16% in clinical populations. 50 to 75% of those with this diagnosis are men.
- Hypothetical Causes
The etiology of this disorder is unknown, but, according to Groopman and Cooper[3], factors identified by researchers as possibly contributing to this disorder include:
An oversensitive temperament at birth
Overindulgence and overvaluation by parents
Valued by parents as a means to regulate their own self-esteem
Excessive admiration that is never balanced with realistic feedback
Unpredictable or unreliable caregiving from parents
Severe emotional abuse in childhood
Being praised for perceived exceptional looks or talents by adults
Learning manipulative behaviors from parents
Some narcissistic traits are common and a normal developmental phase. When these traits are compounded by a failure of the interpersonal environment and continue into adulthood they may intensify to the point where NPD is diagnosed. It has been suggested that NPD may be exacerbated by the onset of aging and the physical, mental, and occupational restrictions it imposes
Pathological narcissism occurs in a spectrum of severity. In its more extreme forms, it is narcissistic personality disorder. NPD is considered to result from a person's belief that he or she is flawed in a way that makes the person fundamentally unacceptable to others. This belief is held below the person’s conscious awareness; such a person would typically deny thinking such a thing, if questioned. In order to protect themselves against the intolerably painful rejection and isolation that (they imagine) would follow if others recognised their supposedly defective nature, such people make strong attempts to control others’ view of them and behaviour towards them.
Psychologists commonly believe that pathological narcissism results from an impairment in the quality of the person’s relationship with their primary caregivers, usually their parents, in that the parents were unable to form a healthy, empathic attachment to them. This results in the child conceiving of themselves as unimportant and unconnected to others. The child typically comes to believe that he or she has some defect of personality which makes them unvalued and unwanted.
Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) is isolating, disenfranchising, painful, and formidable for those diagnosed with it and often those who are in a relationship with them. Distinctions need to be made among those who have NPD because not each and every person with NPD is the same. Even with similar core issues, the way in which one's individual narcissism manifests itself in his or her relationships varies.
To the extent that people are pathologically narcissistic, they can be controlling, blaming, self-absorbed, intolerant of others’ views, unaware of others' needs and of the effects of their behavior on others, and insistent that others see them as they wish to be seen. They may also demand certain behavior from their children because they see the children as extensions of themselves, and need the children to represent them in the world in ways that meet the parents’ emotional needs. (For example, a narcissistic father who was a lawyer demanded that his son, who had always been treated as the "favorite" in the family, enter the legal profession as well. When the son chose another career, the father rejected and disparaged him.)
These traits will lead overly narcissistic parents to be very intrusive in some ways, and entirely neglectful in others. The children are punished if they do not respond adequately to the parents’ needs. This punishment may take a variety of forms, including physical abuse, angry outbursts, blame, attempts to instill guilt, emotional withdrawal, and criticism. Whatever form it takes, the purpose of the punishment is to enforce compliance with the parents' narcissistic needs.
People who are overly narcissistic commonly feel rejected, humiliated and threatened when criticised. To protect themselves from these dangers, they often react with disdain, rage, and/or defiance to any slight criticism, real or imagined. To avoid such situations, some narcissistic people withdraw socially and may feign modesty or humility.
Though individuals with NPD are often ambitious and capable, the inability to tolerate setbacks, disagreements or criticism, along with lack of empathy, make it difficult for such individuals to work cooperatively with others or to maintain long-term professional achievements. With narcissistic personality disorder, the person's perceived fantastic grandiosity, often coupled with a hypomanic mood, is typically not commensurate with his or her real accomplishments.
The exploitativeness, sense of entitlement, lack of empathy, disregard for others, and constant need for attention inherent in NPD, adversely affects interpersonal relationships. Individuals with NPD frequently select as mates, and engender in their children, "co-narcissism," which is a term coined to refer to a co-dependent personality style similar to co-alcoholism and co-dependency. Co-narcissists organize themselves around the needs of others. They feel responsible for others, accept blame readily, are eager to please, defer to others’ opinions, and fear being considered selfish if they act assertively.
- Theories on Narcissistic personality disorder and shame
It has been suggested that Narcissistic personality disorder may be related to defenses against shame.
Gabbard suggested NPD could be broken down into two subtypes. He saw the "oblivious" subtype as being grandiose, arrogant and thick skinned and the "hypervigilant" subtype as easily hurt, oversensitive and ashamed.
He suggested that the oblivious subtype presents a large, powerful, grandiose self to be admired, envied and appreciated, which is the antithesis of the weakened and internalised self that hides in a generic state of shame, in order to fend off devaluation, whereas the hypervigilant subtype, far from fending off devaluation, is obsessed with it, neutralising devaluation by seeing others as unjust abusers.
Jeffrey Young, who developed Schema Therapy, also links shame to NPD. He sees the so-called Defectiveness Schema as a core schema of NPD, next to the Emotional Deprivation and Entitlement Schemas. The Defectiveness Schema is compensated with three Schema Modes (coping strategies):
Surrender: Choose critical partners and significant others; puts him- or herself down.
Avoidance: Avoids sharing "shameful" thoughts and feelings with partners and significant others due to fear of rejection.
Overcompensation: Behaves in a critical or superior way toward others; tries to come across as perfect.
Note that an individual with this schema might not employ all three schema modes.
- Treatment and prognosis
Though there is controversy in the profession, most psychiatrists and psychologists regard NPD as a relatively stable condition when experienced as a primary disorder. James F. Masterson's A Therapist's Guide to the Personality Disorders: The Masterson Approach outlines a prominent approach to healing NPD, while discusses a continuum of severity and the kinds of therapy most effective in different cases. Typically, as narcissism is an ingrained personality trait, rather than a chemical imbalance, medication and therapy are not very effective in treating the disorder. Schema Therapy, a form of therapy developed by Jeffrey E. Young that integrates several therapeutic approaches (psychodynamic, cognitive, behavioral etc.), also offers an approach for the treatment of NPD.
It is unusual for people to seek therapy for NPD. Subconscious fears of exposure or inadequacy are often met with defensive disdain of therapeutic processes.
Pharmacotherapy is rarely used. In a review of the literature, one patient responded to Wellbutrin.
Because NPD contributes to negative, stressful life experiences characterized by the mental health field as "clinically significant distress" or "impairment", co-existing conditions of depression and anxiety are typical.
DSM Criteria
A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:[1]
has a grandiose sense of self-importance
is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brillance, beauty, or ideal love
believes that he or she is "special" and unique
requires excessive admiration
has a sense of entitlement
is interpersonally exploitative
lacks empathy
is often envious of others or believes others are envious of him or her
shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes
(see also: Full list in DSM-IV-TR)
- Lifetime prevalence is estimated at 1% in the general population and 2% to 16% in clinical populations. 50 to 75% of those with this diagnosis are men.
- Hypothetical Causes
The etiology of this disorder is unknown, but, according to Groopman and Cooper[3], factors identified by researchers as possibly contributing to this disorder include:
An oversensitive temperament at birth
Overindulgence and overvaluation by parents
Valued by parents as a means to regulate their own self-esteem
Excessive admiration that is never balanced with realistic feedback
Unpredictable or unreliable caregiving from parents
Severe emotional abuse in childhood
Being praised for perceived exceptional looks or talents by adults
Learning manipulative behaviors from parents
Some narcissistic traits are common and a normal developmental phase. When these traits are compounded by a failure of the interpersonal environment and continue into adulthood they may intensify to the point where NPD is diagnosed. It has been suggested that NPD may be exacerbated by the onset of aging and the physical, mental, and occupational restrictions it imposes
Pathological narcissism occurs in a spectrum of severity. In its more extreme forms, it is narcissistic personality disorder. NPD is considered to result from a person's belief that he or she is flawed in a way that makes the person fundamentally unacceptable to others. This belief is held below the person’s conscious awareness; such a person would typically deny thinking such a thing, if questioned. In order to protect themselves against the intolerably painful rejection and isolation that (they imagine) would follow if others recognised their supposedly defective nature, such people make strong attempts to control others’ view of them and behaviour towards them.
Psychologists commonly believe that pathological narcissism results from an impairment in the quality of the person’s relationship with their primary caregivers, usually their parents, in that the parents were unable to form a healthy, empathic attachment to them. This results in the child conceiving of themselves as unimportant and unconnected to others. The child typically comes to believe that he or she has some defect of personality which makes them unvalued and unwanted.
Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) is isolating, disenfranchising, painful, and formidable for those diagnosed with it and often those who are in a relationship with them. Distinctions need to be made among those who have NPD because not each and every person with NPD is the same. Even with similar core issues, the way in which one's individual narcissism manifests itself in his or her relationships varies.
To the extent that people are pathologically narcissistic, they can be controlling, blaming, self-absorbed, intolerant of others’ views, unaware of others' needs and of the effects of their behavior on others, and insistent that others see them as they wish to be seen. They may also demand certain behavior from their children because they see the children as extensions of themselves, and need the children to represent them in the world in ways that meet the parents’ emotional needs. (For example, a narcissistic father who was a lawyer demanded that his son, who had always been treated as the "favorite" in the family, enter the legal profession as well. When the son chose another career, the father rejected and disparaged him.)
These traits will lead overly narcissistic parents to be very intrusive in some ways, and entirely neglectful in others. The children are punished if they do not respond adequately to the parents’ needs. This punishment may take a variety of forms, including physical abuse, angry outbursts, blame, attempts to instill guilt, emotional withdrawal, and criticism. Whatever form it takes, the purpose of the punishment is to enforce compliance with the parents' narcissistic needs.
People who are overly narcissistic commonly feel rejected, humiliated and threatened when criticised. To protect themselves from these dangers, they often react with disdain, rage, and/or defiance to any slight criticism, real or imagined. To avoid such situations, some narcissistic people withdraw socially and may feign modesty or humility.
Though individuals with NPD are often ambitious and capable, the inability to tolerate setbacks, disagreements or criticism, along with lack of empathy, make it difficult for such individuals to work cooperatively with others or to maintain long-term professional achievements. With narcissistic personality disorder, the person's perceived fantastic grandiosity, often coupled with a hypomanic mood, is typically not commensurate with his or her real accomplishments.
The exploitativeness, sense of entitlement, lack of empathy, disregard for others, and constant need for attention inherent in NPD, adversely affects interpersonal relationships. Individuals with NPD frequently select as mates, and engender in their children, "co-narcissism," which is a term coined to refer to a co-dependent personality style similar to co-alcoholism and co-dependency. Co-narcissists organize themselves around the needs of others. They feel responsible for others, accept blame readily, are eager to please, defer to others’ opinions, and fear being considered selfish if they act assertively.
- Theories on Narcissistic personality disorder and shame
It has been suggested that Narcissistic personality disorder may be related to defenses against shame.
Gabbard suggested NPD could be broken down into two subtypes. He saw the "oblivious" subtype as being grandiose, arrogant and thick skinned and the "hypervigilant" subtype as easily hurt, oversensitive and ashamed.
He suggested that the oblivious subtype presents a large, powerful, grandiose self to be admired, envied and appreciated, which is the antithesis of the weakened and internalised self that hides in a generic state of shame, in order to fend off devaluation, whereas the hypervigilant subtype, far from fending off devaluation, is obsessed with it, neutralising devaluation by seeing others as unjust abusers.
Jeffrey Young, who developed Schema Therapy, also links shame to NPD. He sees the so-called Defectiveness Schema as a core schema of NPD, next to the Emotional Deprivation and Entitlement Schemas. The Defectiveness Schema is compensated with three Schema Modes (coping strategies):
Surrender: Choose critical partners and significant others; puts him- or herself down.
Avoidance: Avoids sharing "shameful" thoughts and feelings with partners and significant others due to fear of rejection.
Overcompensation: Behaves in a critical or superior way toward others; tries to come across as perfect.
Note that an individual with this schema might not employ all three schema modes.
- Treatment and prognosis
Though there is controversy in the profession, most psychiatrists and psychologists regard NPD as a relatively stable condition when experienced as a primary disorder. James F. Masterson's A Therapist's Guide to the Personality Disorders: The Masterson Approach outlines a prominent approach to healing NPD, while discusses a continuum of severity and the kinds of therapy most effective in different cases. Typically, as narcissism is an ingrained personality trait, rather than a chemical imbalance, medication and therapy are not very effective in treating the disorder. Schema Therapy, a form of therapy developed by Jeffrey E. Young that integrates several therapeutic approaches (psychodynamic, cognitive, behavioral etc.), also offers an approach for the treatment of NPD.
It is unusual for people to seek therapy for NPD. Subconscious fears of exposure or inadequacy are often met with defensive disdain of therapeutic processes.
Pharmacotherapy is rarely used. In a review of the literature, one patient responded to Wellbutrin.
Because NPD contributes to negative, stressful life experiences characterized by the mental health field as "clinically significant distress" or "impairment", co-existing conditions of depression and anxiety are typical.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Personal Blurtings on Religion and Authority in America
In thinking about the Mars Hill and St. Mark's controversies, and in dealing through my own issues in discernment for ordination to the priesthood, I've been thinking a bit about authority in religion over the last few days.
America's a funny place, particularly when it comes to religion. We're fiercely independent in principle--we don't like the gubment telling us what to do, and we think everybody deserves the opportunity to do what they want. Then, when it comes to religion, we turn over all of our spiritual (and often personal and financial) independence to these figures with nothing more than a shiny suit and a B.A. from Middle Nowhere Holy Spirit Bible University to legitimate their authority. And with predictable results, in many cases.
Why are we so bad at questioning religious leadership, when challenging authority seems to come as such second nature here? I think I'll cook up a few crackpot theories, mostly based on personal experience:
One guess is that most of us need authority ultimately, whether we like it or not, and religious leaders are essentially filling a power vacuum. In the US we don't trust government or other community leaders, but we need to trust someone to lead us. (Otherwise, we'll be the ones who are responsible for our own actions, and no one wants that). Religious leaders are happy to oblige, with claims to ultimate truth, and the handy ability to utilize all of the benefits of power, while transferring the responsibility for their decisions on to God or the Bible. B/C they're effective at meeting some of our social, emotional and spiritual needs, we transfer a deep level of trust to them. In short, we like having someone around to tell us what to do, and our leaders like having people who they can tell what to do. That's not exactly how I have experienced my present situation in the Episcopal Church, b/c it's not exactly how the power structure works, but I would say that it accurately described the way I functioned religiously growing up.
Another (contradictory) guess? We do question religious leadership, but don't let that deter us from our commitment to the church. We tend to think, in general, that we know better than our ministers, but we're happy to keep them around to keep things running. Occasionally they'll say something helpful, and we're happy to pat them on the back for that. If they screw something up seriously, we can get rid of them without too much trouble. We go to church because it's a good show and a good experience, or we have friends there or gain something important from it--not primarily because we agree with the leader. That helps to explain our other inexplicable religious tendency--to sit through long, boring and irrelevant sermons week in and week out. It also, I think, crudely describes the way I think about religious leadership now, in my more callous moments.
In my case, I also tend to spiritualize my submission to authorities--priests, and bishops and the lot: submission teaches you humility, which helps you to be a better person, etc. Ultimately, though, I think a lot of my personal submission is pragmatic: I have to submit to authorities if I want to be a part of this organization--even though I may have serious disagreements with them. That recognition, in itself, is a bit scary to me, because it stinks of a personal willingness to sell out. I'm not sure how deep that tendency is, or how important the issues that I'm "selling out" on are. I'm also not sure that it's such a bad tendency--sometimes it's a good thing to trust leadership who's been there done that. Still, it makes me feel a little dirty to recognize that I'm willing to tow the party line for reasons other than that I agree with the party line.
America's a funny place, particularly when it comes to religion. We're fiercely independent in principle--we don't like the gubment telling us what to do, and we think everybody deserves the opportunity to do what they want. Then, when it comes to religion, we turn over all of our spiritual (and often personal and financial) independence to these figures with nothing more than a shiny suit and a B.A. from Middle Nowhere Holy Spirit Bible University to legitimate their authority. And with predictable results, in many cases.
Why are we so bad at questioning religious leadership, when challenging authority seems to come as such second nature here? I think I'll cook up a few crackpot theories, mostly based on personal experience:
One guess is that most of us need authority ultimately, whether we like it or not, and religious leaders are essentially filling a power vacuum. In the US we don't trust government or other community leaders, but we need to trust someone to lead us. (Otherwise, we'll be the ones who are responsible for our own actions, and no one wants that). Religious leaders are happy to oblige, with claims to ultimate truth, and the handy ability to utilize all of the benefits of power, while transferring the responsibility for their decisions on to God or the Bible. B/C they're effective at meeting some of our social, emotional and spiritual needs, we transfer a deep level of trust to them. In short, we like having someone around to tell us what to do, and our leaders like having people who they can tell what to do. That's not exactly how I have experienced my present situation in the Episcopal Church, b/c it's not exactly how the power structure works, but I would say that it accurately described the way I functioned religiously growing up.
Another (contradictory) guess? We do question religious leadership, but don't let that deter us from our commitment to the church. We tend to think, in general, that we know better than our ministers, but we're happy to keep them around to keep things running. Occasionally they'll say something helpful, and we're happy to pat them on the back for that. If they screw something up seriously, we can get rid of them without too much trouble. We go to church because it's a good show and a good experience, or we have friends there or gain something important from it--not primarily because we agree with the leader. That helps to explain our other inexplicable religious tendency--to sit through long, boring and irrelevant sermons week in and week out. It also, I think, crudely describes the way I think about religious leadership now, in my more callous moments.
In my case, I also tend to spiritualize my submission to authorities--priests, and bishops and the lot: submission teaches you humility, which helps you to be a better person, etc. Ultimately, though, I think a lot of my personal submission is pragmatic: I have to submit to authorities if I want to be a part of this organization--even though I may have serious disagreements with them. That recognition, in itself, is a bit scary to me, because it stinks of a personal willingness to sell out. I'm not sure how deep that tendency is, or how important the issues that I'm "selling out" on are. I'm also not sure that it's such a bad tendency--sometimes it's a good thing to trust leadership who's been there done that. Still, it makes me feel a little dirty to recognize that I'm willing to tow the party line for reasons other than that I agree with the party line.
Friday, February 1, 2008
St. Mark's Cathedral and Mars Hill Church
I'd planned on cleaning the house right now, but I have a blog post that's been just itching to get out for several weeks now. It's no wonder that my wife hates me:
Seattle (my Seattle anyway) has two religious organizations that really matter: Mars Hill Church (denomination, hipster baptist) and St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral. (Full disclosure: my membership is at St. Mark's, and I have a lot of friends at Mars Hill.) The two places couldn't be more different, but have interestingly gone through parallel leadership crises in the last year. In both cases, two well-respected senior leaders were dismissed under the ultimate authority of the most senior leader--Mark Driscoll at Mars Hill and Robert Taylor at St. Mark's. I'm convinced that there's an interesting religious lesson in the processes and aftermaths, and I've been trying to sort out what that lesson is.
The players in the two dramas couldn't be more different--Mark's a rugged "muscular Christianity" type, and Robert is a liberal gay South African champion of the homeless. The leaders dismissed at Mars Hill were straight white male elders named Paul and Bent, while at St. Mark's they were both women--one a lesbian liturgist and the other an African-American academic who later made headlines by declaring "I am both a Christian and a Muslim". You couldn't have planned a better typecast for the liberal/conservative divide.
In both cases there was a strong congregational outcry, and some degree of media attention (a Google search will turn up what you need), as well as a general series of non-answers from Church leadership about the why's and how's of the firing processes. In both cases nothing terribly exciting or controversial has come out. To me, the disimpassioned observer, it just looks like there were probably simmering personality issues, and leaders were removed when the opportunity arose. In both cases the leaders apparently acted irresponsibly and shortsightedly in their method of dismissal, and in neither case has their been sufficient explanation given to the congregations for the firings. Interestingly, both cases have drawn up discussion about the nature and legitimacy of present church authority structures, which are relatively different between the two congregations, but which both seem to concentrate too much power at the top.
There are some intriguing differences in the way members of the congregation have responded, and the issues that have risen to the top in the processes. Again, you probably couldn't have scripted things any more stereotypically:
The Episcopalians at St. Mark's have been mad about money. The dismissals, firings, layoffs, whatever you want to call them were initially attributed to a budget shortfall: pledging was down $100k, so something had to be done, and thus leaders were removed. That was okay with some people, but when it came out soon after that Robert had also recently received a significant raise to somewhere in the range of $150-200k annually, and that the dismissed leaders were being underpaid prior to their dismissal, there was the proverbial tempest in a teacup. (Incidentally, St. Mark's didn't make their budget available to the public until after the layoffs, which is really unusual for a church, and seems generally sketchy to me.) Still, a lot of the ongoing arguments at St. Mark's are centering around money and the proper use of it.
The Baptists at Mars Hill are mad about the sinfulness of Mark's behavior. (Immediately prior to the firings, he suggested in a sermon that he'd like to punch a couple of his elders, which I think is just classic.) There's a big ongoing dialogue at The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill which generally focuses on whether or not Mark acted biblically, and whether he's a righteous individual, and whether he's allowed his ego to lead him away from promoting Jesus. Also, whether maybe it is the fired pastors who need to repent and return to Jesus.
In the end, who's handled things better? I don't know. I have much more respect for Robert than for Mark, and really see him as, at least in some ways, a sort of tragic figure in all of this. He's made some mistakes that he might not be able to dig his way out from under, and a lot of people (including me, and Ann, who I consider a mentor) were significantly hurt by the firings. However, he has done really important things for the Seattle homeless community, and the worldwide Anglican community. He's got a closed leadership style, but I think generally is a good person. (Again, full disclosure, I personally like and respect Robert, and have maintained an amiable relationship with him throughout the process.) Mark just seems like a narcissist (note--this was changed from "punk" on 2/11/08, due to further investigation). He's grown some big churches--gotten some people to heaven if you think that's how it works--but also has generally promoted arrogance and misogyny as spiritual virtues, and seems to lead like a bully. He's got a great sense of humor, and I could see having him as a buddy (at least until we got in a fight about religion, homophobia, or whatever), but don't really trust him in church leadership because he's got such an authoritarian bent. You could see this sort of thing coming at Mars Hill a mile away.
At a congregational level, it seems to me that neither group has really known how to deal with the problems coherently. The Episcopalians are calling in help from the top, and the Baptists have a revolt simmering at the bottom. There has been significant opening of communications at St. Mark's between the leadership (vestry) and the congregation, which I think has been generally positive. At Mars Hill? They dumped a huge document on the congregation explaining the bylaws and partially addressing concerns, but haven't made any real changes. In both cases, some feel reconciled to the leadership, while others have left, or are in the process of leaving.
Where's the lesson in all of this? I don't know. You can't win? Don't put people on too high of a pedestal? Liberals and conservatives both have their problems? I don't know. I would like to say that this has been less of a spiritual crisis for St. Mark's than it has been for Mars Hill, because we don't beatify our leaders, and we don't see them as a sort of direct mouthpiece of God. I'm not entirely convinced that that's true though. Certainly it's true for some, but for others this has been a real crisis of faith. Maybe it's a foundational characteristic of any type of religion to place faith in leadership, as well as in God. That, of course, is a precarious position to put oneself in. Maybe that's just a step along the stages of faith, and this sort of crisis is actually beneficial to help people stop beatifying other humans? Maybe, ultimately, disappointment is the inevitable cost of hope?
As a St. Mark's Christian, I like to think of myself as above the petty disputes of the Mars Hill Christians. Of course, through all of this, I've seen that I'm not, and St. Mark's is not. Hopefully, on the Mars Hill side, they'll also see that there's "no one holy, not even one". I'm definitely going to keep arguing with the fundamentalists and the homophobes, but I guess it's good sometimes to step down off the high horse and remember that my people aren't always so perfect either. We are of course still way smarter...
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Spiritual maturity, Mars Hill, and me making people wish I'd shut up.
Last night I went to a party at a friend's place, and as conversations inevitably do when I'm at parties, discussion turned towards religion. Inevitably my opinions lined up more with the non-religious folks than with the religious folks, and even more inevitably I ended up taking a few frustrated pot shots at Mars Hill, Seattle's indie rock macho-man megachurch where most of the religious folk in the room attended. I really try not to be abrasive in these sorts of situations--respecting other people's opinions, giving people room to grow, and all that--but I'm sure I stepped on some toes. Mark Driscoll, the pastor at Mars Hill, is an easy target in a lot of ways because he's big and public and loud and obnoxious, and he's theologically very conservative. Though I think he's a generally sincere (and funny) guy, he's also got a bullying leadership style and has more than his fair share of misogynistic and homophobic tendencies (preach as he might about loving the sinner and hating the sin). I'm sure at some point I called him nasty names. (I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't do such things, particularly around his acolytes who are also my friends. If I do, I should at least keep my comments under my breath, or pretend like I'm sneezing when I say them. "ah ah ah chewbigot!")
Most people in Seattle look on Mars Hill warily, I would guess, as a place that's teaching a worldview that's out of step with Seattle's good sense and progressivism, but lots of Christians around the country and blogosphere look at it as a model example of the way for churches to attract the youngsters (most of the congregation is under 30). To me, I'm like whatever dude. I've seen enough megachurches to know that Mars Hill really isn't anything unusual. Like most megachurches, it opens the door with a good show (their music is probably the most appealing Protestant church-music I've heard), appeals to predominant American Protestant conservative religious instincts, and is founded on the charisma of one really good preacher. These places are a big feature of our modern religious landscape.
Some megachurches are more problematic than others though. At all of these places, the preacher basically plays a celebrity role, and for some reason we Americans have a hard time questioning our celebrities' opinions. With our spiritual celebrities, we act as if they're smarter or holier than us (because they have a public leadership role? because we don't want to go to the trouble of sorting out issues on our own? because we all want there to be someone who's got the answers?), and we follow their lead. When they screw up, as they inevitably do, we're shocked. We thought they knew it all and were completely trustworthy. Come to find out they're just like us, only with shinier suits and more time to think up jokes for sermons.
Now, the best religious leaders know this, and do their best to guard themselves against the temptations of power. They hand over power to others in important areas. They're honest about their shortcomings. They realize their limitations. They openly promote the questioning of their ideas. They distinguish their own ideas from "the divine word of God". They try not to give people the impression that Angels delivered a message to them while they were in the shower, and that all must obey or go to Hell. Sometimes they make mistakes and disappoint, but when they do so, people generally tend to be prepared and understanding. Laity in these congregations tend to be spiritually mature as well, because they are given the ability to sort issues out on their own rather than doing what the pastor tells them. (A good definition of spiritual maturity, I say, is being wise enough to not do what the preacher tells you to.)
The worst religious leaders, on the other hand, consolidate and guard power. They discourage questioning. They take charge of committees. They micromanage. They bully and abuse. They give people the impression that they somehow know the absolute truth--either God delivered it to them first hand, or they've found it plainly written in Scripture, such that it can't be brought into question. (I think this is frequently a reflection of sad insecurity, by the way.) If the leader is charismatic enough, the upside of this approach is that lots of people will tend to treat them as an ultimate authority, and will do what the Angel's suggested to the pastor while he was in the shower for fear of Hell or retribution. People may or may not actually believe what the leader says, but they'll generally obey (at least publicly) because they like the dude and want to be identified with him (and it's almost always a him). These types of leaders tend to polarize, because they attack the people that disagree with them. They also tend to hurt their congregations, because they're ultimately going to screw up and disappoint the people who looked to them as an emissary from God. Or, they'll drift into the cult leader role, and actually lead their followers to do things that are self-destructive. These sorts of churches, I think, do almost nothing to encourage actual spiritual growth--they tend to encourage conformity and moralism, and produce guilt-ridden followers.
By this point, you've probably figured out where I'm going with this. Whatever my theological disagreements with the Mars Hill crowd, and Reformed Evangelical types in general, the heart of my concern is with the leadership style and the church culture there (and at a lot of churches). From what I've gathered, (full disclosure: I've only been there once, but I do follow their blogs, occasionally watch webcasts, follow their media coverage, and have lots of friends who go there) the senior leadership there leans pretty heavily towards the controlling side. They like the whole "absolute truth" from above thing, generally discourage questioning, operate behind closed doors, and so forth. People are ostracized and excommunicated, and all that sort of fun stuff. I think that's abusive, whether it's intended to be or not. (As that old Nazi Will Smith pointed out, even Hitler thought he was doing the right thing, so I'm really not that into the "good-intentions" argument). In the end, Mark Driscoll strikes me as the linebacker on the high school football team who pushes people around to make his buddies laugh, and then apologizes when he gets called out on it, as if he didn't know what he was doing. He wants everyone to like him, but he also wants everyone to do what he says. I really don't have a huge problem with Evangelicals, per se, I just can't deal with this kind of leadership behavior.
And he's always making fun of Episcopalians.
Most people in Seattle look on Mars Hill warily, I would guess, as a place that's teaching a worldview that's out of step with Seattle's good sense and progressivism, but lots of Christians around the country and blogosphere look at it as a model example of the way for churches to attract the youngsters (most of the congregation is under 30). To me, I'm like whatever dude. I've seen enough megachurches to know that Mars Hill really isn't anything unusual. Like most megachurches, it opens the door with a good show (their music is probably the most appealing Protestant church-music I've heard), appeals to predominant American Protestant conservative religious instincts, and is founded on the charisma of one really good preacher. These places are a big feature of our modern religious landscape.
Some megachurches are more problematic than others though. At all of these places, the preacher basically plays a celebrity role, and for some reason we Americans have a hard time questioning our celebrities' opinions. With our spiritual celebrities, we act as if they're smarter or holier than us (because they have a public leadership role? because we don't want to go to the trouble of sorting out issues on our own? because we all want there to be someone who's got the answers?), and we follow their lead. When they screw up, as they inevitably do, we're shocked. We thought they knew it all and were completely trustworthy. Come to find out they're just like us, only with shinier suits and more time to think up jokes for sermons.
Now, the best religious leaders know this, and do their best to guard themselves against the temptations of power. They hand over power to others in important areas. They're honest about their shortcomings. They realize their limitations. They openly promote the questioning of their ideas. They distinguish their own ideas from "the divine word of God". They try not to give people the impression that Angels delivered a message to them while they were in the shower, and that all must obey or go to Hell. Sometimes they make mistakes and disappoint, but when they do so, people generally tend to be prepared and understanding. Laity in these congregations tend to be spiritually mature as well, because they are given the ability to sort issues out on their own rather than doing what the pastor tells them. (A good definition of spiritual maturity, I say, is being wise enough to not do what the preacher tells you to.)
The worst religious leaders, on the other hand, consolidate and guard power. They discourage questioning. They take charge of committees. They micromanage. They bully and abuse. They give people the impression that they somehow know the absolute truth--either God delivered it to them first hand, or they've found it plainly written in Scripture, such that it can't be brought into question. (I think this is frequently a reflection of sad insecurity, by the way.) If the leader is charismatic enough, the upside of this approach is that lots of people will tend to treat them as an ultimate authority, and will do what the Angel's suggested to the pastor while he was in the shower for fear of Hell or retribution. People may or may not actually believe what the leader says, but they'll generally obey (at least publicly) because they like the dude and want to be identified with him (and it's almost always a him). These types of leaders tend to polarize, because they attack the people that disagree with them. They also tend to hurt their congregations, because they're ultimately going to screw up and disappoint the people who looked to them as an emissary from God. Or, they'll drift into the cult leader role, and actually lead their followers to do things that are self-destructive. These sorts of churches, I think, do almost nothing to encourage actual spiritual growth--they tend to encourage conformity and moralism, and produce guilt-ridden followers.
By this point, you've probably figured out where I'm going with this. Whatever my theological disagreements with the Mars Hill crowd, and Reformed Evangelical types in general, the heart of my concern is with the leadership style and the church culture there (and at a lot of churches). From what I've gathered, (full disclosure: I've only been there once, but I do follow their blogs, occasionally watch webcasts, follow their media coverage, and have lots of friends who go there) the senior leadership there leans pretty heavily towards the controlling side. They like the whole "absolute truth" from above thing, generally discourage questioning, operate behind closed doors, and so forth. People are ostracized and excommunicated, and all that sort of fun stuff. I think that's abusive, whether it's intended to be or not. (As that old Nazi Will Smith pointed out, even Hitler thought he was doing the right thing, so I'm really not that into the "good-intentions" argument). In the end, Mark Driscoll strikes me as the linebacker on the high school football team who pushes people around to make his buddies laugh, and then apologizes when he gets called out on it, as if he didn't know what he was doing. He wants everyone to like him, but he also wants everyone to do what he says. I really don't have a huge problem with Evangelicals, per se, I just can't deal with this kind of leadership behavior.
And he's always making fun of Episcopalians.
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