by Lynn Mandaville

Almost four hours has passed since this morning’s church service concluded, and within the ensuing four hour’s time, my mind has settled as much as it ever will. I’ve had meaningful discussion with my husband and son about what transpired at the beginning of the service.

Before you’re turned off thinking that this will be about religion, or about a leftist’s take on Christianity, or my own take on the correctness of the church’s actions, bear with me as I look at the convergence of politics, religion, morality, theater and spin.

Here are the circumstances.

At some point in the recent past, one of the very popular youth pastors at this mega-church has strayed from his marriage vows.  To what extent is irrelevant, not to mention that it’s none of our business.  Nevertheless, the church has found itself in the unfortunate position to have to react.  

At stake is the reputation of the church and its leadership within the city of Chandler.  As a huge, conservative church with politically rightward leanings, it has to feel compelled not to fall prey to the Republican party’s recent double standard of judging its own transgressors differently from transgressors of the Democratic party.  

This church has to meet the reality head on for several reasons.  First, it must show itself to be firm but fair-minded in meting out sanctions against its own.  Second, it must use this event as a teaching moment to the church’s youth about accountability and consequences.  Third, the church’s governing council and/or its administrators must also do damage control, because such news, if not faced head on, could bring scandal and shame on the church as a whole, particularly through the workings of social media.  Finally, the church stands to lose a popular member of its clergy, thus possibly alienating some of the faithful who might want to rush to premature forgiveness in order to keep him within the fold.

So, this morning, at each of three services which touch several thousand parishioners both on site and in two remote locations, this pastor was compelled to sit in front of the congregation and, in essence, be publicly shamed for his transgression.

My first reaction was utter revulsion.  To me this kind of public shaming reeks of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter.    

The young pastor was coerced into retelling his shame.  His voice quavered.  His body language was rife with humiliation and embarrassment.

We were told that his ministry was going to be on hold for a time, during which we were to pray for his reformation and rehabilitation, in hopes that one day he would return to do God’s work among this congregation.

After the young pastor was dismissed from public display, the lead pastor encouraged the congregation to resist judging him, and to pray enthusiastically for him and his family that they might come through this trial whole.  Then he implored the congregation to stay off of social media, to refrain from gossip, hearsay, scandal-mongering and embellishment of fact.

While I am still deeply troubled by this real life morality play, I have had to temper my reactions within what we used to call, in the 1970s, situational ethics.  In other words, I have had to frame my own judgment of the church withing a framework of what best serves the congregation, the “fallen” pastor, and the community at large.

Scandal and gossip-mongering never serve anyone well, not the subject of the gossip nor the gossipers.  All they do is to abet the descent of everyone to a baser level.  So a message of restraint to the congregation serves to encourage adherence to a higher standard of conduct and compassion.  A worthy subject of any Sunday sermon.

By setting a tone of responsibility, repentance and redemption, the church has allowed the young pastor the opportunity to return to his church home at some future date, and to the people whose moral support he most needs.  And it doesn’t hurt that this tone encourages the faithful to stay true to the church rather than defect to another church, taking along their financial assistance.

And not to be underestimated in this play is the moral lesson to the young people.  The young folks are here to develop the moral compass that will guide their lives.  But they also need to learn that sometimes even the most admired among us will make bad choices.  And that for those who have erred, through sincere regret, reflection, and apologies to all who were harmed, second chances are not just possible, but can be encouraged and, ultimately, celebrated.

The cynic in me has wandered off into the darker side of things, and I am tempted to believe that the whole morality play was political spin to protect the church’s bottom line.  My son, who we raised to always extend the benefit of the doubt, prefers to believe today’s revelations at face value, to accept that there are no ulterior motives.  (He comes by that honestly.  I used to think that way myself.)

It is not my place to proclaim where the truth lies.  Truth is what it is.

But I am still tremendously troubled by the public shaming of an otherwise good man, whose failings, whatever they were, should be only between him, his wife, and his God.  The shaming, to me, borders on religious bullying.

That being said, it is, after all, only my opinion.

That is my problem to bear.