“It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones.” – Luke 17:2
After years of meaning to get around to it, I finally saw the greatest one hit wonder in film history, Charles Laughton’s first (and only) film, The Night of the Hunter. What a film – so distinctive in its visual style, so terrifying in its implications. If you have not seen it, go out directly and get your hands on it.
For me the film resonates in particular because at its center creeps Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum), the oily, nightmarish “pastor” who will do anything to get his hands on a large sum of money. He haunts the film, chasing after the children of the woman he married so he could get his hands on $10,000. What makes Powell terrifying is that he does not act like a raging madman; instead he is all smiles and promises. He uses his authority as a man of God to wheedle his way into people’s lives, then abuse them.
Though this depiction is an extreme one, it touches in its own way on something that has troubled the church for the entirety of its existence (but, I would argue, has gotten exponentially worse since the Reformation – for reasons I’ll discuss below). How do you recognize a “wolf” when he comes disguised as a shepherd? False teachers abound, and wait to gobble up the fold whenever the opportunity presents itself.
The problem here, especially as it rears its head in Protestant circles, is this: it can be difficult for believers, no matter how sincere, to discern the motives and actions of their leaders, because we too often confuse the action of “charis” (grace) with natural charisma. We look for the Spirit in those who lead with vigor, or preach dramatically, or speak “words of prophecy”; no matter the flavor we choose, we are easy to delude.
This foible is not peculiar to Protestantism, of course, or indeed religion itself (though some of the more vocal, obnoxious “new Atheists” would like to posit that religion is for the easily led astray). Anyone who has seen footage of Hitler riling up the masses, or the crowds who bought wholesale into the cult of Mao, know that humans have a desire to invest their loyalty in powerful leaders. I do think the problem gets exacerbated in Protestant circles, where the emphasis of religion has shifted from the sacraments to preaching (or spiritual gifts, in charismatic circles), an emphasis that places the spotlight on the person doing the action, and not the participation of the congregation in the work of God. In Catholic and Orthodox circles, the honor and prestige rest on the office, not the person holding it. This allows for certain checks to the power of individuals.
Maybe, in addition to the many books I’m sure they read on similar subjects, seminary students could just watch The Night of the Hunter to get a sense of the importance of self-evaluation (maybe make that a double feature, alongside John Huston’s great adaptation of the Flannery O’Connor novel Wise Blood, which presents hucksters in a more comical, though equally chilling, light). Because the sad fact is that many pastors and congregations fall into the trap of believing that the pastor carries a particular aura about his person that precludes him from honest accountability, and many congregations value the words of their pastors above their actions.
In The Night of the Hunter, Powell uses his status as preacher to fool the community through which he stalks. He tricks the locals, and even the children’s mother, into believing that he comes to do good, and that anything the children say against him is a lie. He oozes charm, but uses his forked tongue to sow division and falsehood. One of the tricks of the abusive pastor is always to paint himself as victim, with the forces arrayed against him conspiring to take him down for selfish reasons. The wolf rarely goes in for self examination, instead preferring to blame others for mishaps.
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Look, up to this point I’ve done my best to avoid the subject, but let’s talk about Mark Driscoll for a minute. I’ve been holding my tongue on him for weeks, for a few reasons: one, if I think too long about him, I get sick to my stomach; two, I highly doubt anyone who has drunk the Kool-Aid on this one is going to be convinced by anything (short of, God forbid, some sort of sex scandal) that Driscoll is a wolf that should be expelled from pastoral ministry.
It’s no surprise that the recent scandals over plagiarism and the illegal, artificial inflation of book sales at Mars Hill has done little to shift the Driscoll faithful to reevaluate their views of him. For one, he issued such a nice apology to his congregation! And then, of course, there’s all those mean people out there just waiting for him to trip up because their jealous or because they can’t handle the truth he preaches or whatever.
Anybody who thinks these book related incidents are aberrations in an otherwise healthy pattern of leadership at Mars Hill has been burying his or her head in the sand. It’s not about plagiarism, or boosting a book up the bestseller charts. It’s about repeated, sustained abuse of church members and officials by a leadership that has as its only goal the protection of the status quo, and the shielding of “Pastor Mark” from all criticism. I’m not one to throw around accusations lightly, so here are a few links from former Mars Hill elders. Here’s a wonderfully chilling “timeline” of events from the stories of two fired elders. And, if you have never visited the gracious, wonderful site Practical Theology for Women, I highly encourage you to do so. Wendy Alsup addresses any number of topics, and indeed almost never speaks of the time she and her husband spent at Mars Hill (where they were in leadership and she led women’s ministries); when she does so, she approaches it with grace and humility, but makes clear the manifold abuses sustained by many hurting people who came under the “care” of Mars Hill.
One of the salient points here is that many of the people who object to Driscoll are not all that different from him on a theological level. Sometimes it’s implied that people object to him because of his unflinching desire to preach the truth, or something. While there are definitely people who attack him because of theological differences, many others object to him because of the clearly abusive, cultish atmosphere of Mars Hill.
I promise the real point of this is not to beat up on Driscoll (plus, we all know a sweet tatted guy like that with macho Jesus on his side could pummel a limp wristed dweeb like me). My bigger point here (because I always like to look at the big picture) is how susceptible we are to people who say the right words to us. Many people I know who are quick to denounce people like Steve Furtick or Joelsteen turn a blind eye to Mark Driscoll because he espouses a quasi-Reformed theology (if you dig below the very thin surface, you quickly discover that he’s not actually Reformed, unless you think Reformed= 5 points of Calvinism).
I’ve been blessed in my life to know many more good pastors than bad. My own father, a Methodist minister, has been an example to me of Christ-like humility and leadership (not to mention my mother, who though her pastoring years were behind her by the time I was old enough to process things, provided a constant light to me before she passed away). But I’ve also known some bad ones, and been taken in by at least one genuine wolf. That experience has made me wary of pastors who do not know how to receive criticism. Even when someone starts out with good intentions (and I do believe, whatever his shortcomings, that Driscoll at least began from a place of sincerity), the slide into the quicksand of ego and importance is too sudden, too overpowering to allow for going it alone.
At the end of The Night of the Hunter, John and Pearl, on the run from Powell, get taken in by a tough but kind old woman (played by former silent film star Lillian Gish). A faithful woman who hides a reservoir of strength beneath a faltering exterior, she represents the other end of the faith spectrum from Powell. Hers is a faith that guards and heals, not exploits. When Powell comes and tries his charms on her, doing his best to pry the children from her care, she sees through his tricks because she is wise as a serpent, and because she has a bond of trust with the children that allows her to listen. We would all do well to look with discerning eyes, and listen with open ears to those lambs who have been threatened by those who twist the words of God to their own ends.
