September/October 2001

Favoritism and Faith:
Is There a Pecking Order in the Pews?

by Barbara Curtis

I didn't know you lived in a house like this," said the woman at my door, obviously distressed. Suddenly, I saw how small we both were -- she with a background of redwood trees and wrought iron gates, me beneath a swoop of high ceilings dancing with light reflected from the pool.

Not sure what to say, I opened wide the leaded glass door. Still she seemed reluctant to come in. "I mean, if I'd known, I never would have come to see you."

It was 1989 and I'd been a Christian just long enough to get some Bible under my belt, but not long enough to experience many of the rough spots. Now I felt myself stumbling over one I'd never expected.

Our family had recently left our first church for the much more exciting and charismatic one connected with the Christian school in which we'd enrolled our daughter. We'd enjoyed the warmest of welcomes -- especially by the pastor and his wife, who scooped us up and promptly put us in highly visible places of leadership. When the Tuesday night women's Bible study grew large enough to break into smaller groups, I'd been chosen to lead one.

That was how Sharon -- someone from my group who wanted to spend some extra time together -- had ended up at my door.

I don't know that Sharon ever felt completely comfortable in my house, though I assured her I knew exactly how she felt. Having grown up in poverty, I have my own painful memories of being in places where I felt like I didn't belong -- like the beautiful Colonial-style church where my divorced and depressed mother sent us kids on Sunday morning to get some religion. The people there all had the best -- the right weight wardrobe for each season, white shoes in summer, dark in winter -- and their clothes fit just right. I always longed to know what that felt like.

Now I did. Through a lot of hard work and doors which only God could open, my husband and children and I did indeed have a beautiful home -- which we used as much as we could to serve others. What made it extra special was that since I couldn't forget where I came from, I never found myself taking it for granted.

But I'd never felt ashamed of it either. Sharon's reaction was my first inkling that when it comes to wealth, power and status, the church is often very confused.

I'm not talking here about the glaring distortions like the wretched excess of televangelism or the heresy of prosperity thinking. Those are easy to peg.

But on a closer-to-home, everyday level, I've seen many times that no matter how clearly Scripture speaks on how we are to receive each other -- regardless of our material circumstances or position in society -- the church often stumbles over these commands. Sometimes a stumble takes your breath away in its shamelessness. Sometimes it's very subtle.

Maybe you've seen some too.

Favoritism

I was doing a summer internship in Las Vegas for a [denomination] church. The pastor was not overtly friendly towards visitors. (As a matter of fact, my family and I were never even invited to his house for a meal or fellowship, despite the fact that I was his intern.) This was to be one of my duties.

Las Vegas is near Nellis Air Force Base. One Sunday we had a particular visitor and his wife -- a nice-looking couple, definitely military. I introduced myself and we talked for about half an hour. Then I moved on to talk to another visiting couple who had just moved to Vegas. The husband was in construction of some sort. The next day I reported on the two visitors to the pastor, who hadn't spoken to either. I mentioned that the Air Force couple were here on temporary duty, that he was a pilot stationed in Korea. When I mentioned the pilot's last name, the pastor's eyes lit up. He asked me if I knew whether he was related to one of the founders of our denomination. I had asked the pilot the same question, and so was able to tell the pastor that our visitor had indeed been the grandson of the founder.

The next Sunday, both visitors were there again, with the Air Force couple sitting in the row in front of the other couple. After the service, the pastor made a beeline to the Air Force couple, introduced himself and invited them over for dinner. He didn't even shake the hands of the other couple, being so enamored with meeting the son of one of his heroes.

The less distinguished couple eventually slipped away quietly. The Air Force couple had a baby while stationed there and then went back to Korea. They received a nice going away party.

Such an eyeopener to me!

Michael Babcock, an Orthodox Presbyterian minister, shared this painfully embarrassing story. I describe it as painfully embarrassing because it hurts to be so vividly reminded of how far we often fall from the commands God has given us on how to live with one another.

James 2:1 makes it clear:

My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don't show favoritism. Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes [or a famous name], and a poor man in shabby clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clotheshave you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?

My own experience is that some churches are purer in this area than others.

It starts at the top. Some pastors have a knack (natural or through disciplined effort) for making each person they talk to -- and they talk to everyone -- feel special. God's love for his children -- be they board members or bag ladies -- flows unhindered through these leaders, making it clear we are all indeed "joint heirs."

Others can be as grasping as groupies. The wife of a well-educated and sought-after choir director who had held several positions in churches across the country has seen her fair share of this:

In some places we have seen less honorable pastors tapping the shoulders of those who have money. They come to them in a secretive manner or they send them special letters that the rest of the congregation doesn't get -- and knows nothing about. They are taken out for special time and attention, not for making disciples, but for getting on their good side and then asking for a special donation.

Don't get me wrong; some pastors have a gift for fund raising others don't have. There is nothing wrong with that. But to take advantage of a person's friendship for the sake of asking for money, well, that's where they cross the line.

One pastor was known for dropping friendships like a hot potato if the person decided not to give as asked. All the special dinners at nice restaurants together suddenly ended. This left the friend, who might have been through this before and had finally begun to trust the pastor, hurt and discouraged in his spiritual walk because once again he found that the men of God could not be trusted.

Sometimes all that hobnobbing with the wealthy wears off on the man of God. For instance, in an upscale county near San Francisco, the pastoral search committee of a wealthy but modestly proportioned (350) congregation fell so head-over-heels in love with a candidate, they barely raised an eyebrow at some outlandish demands, including a $100,000+ annual salary, unlimited cell phone use and a hefty entertainment allowance.

For this, in return, they would see him Sunday and two days a week -- the rest of the time he would work from home. When some board members balked at going over-budget, two well-meaning, well-heeled brothers volunteered to make up the difference personally on an ongoing basis. The board chairman, aghast at the process, resigned shortly after the pastor was hired. Within a couple years most of the board and the search committee had resigned from the church as well. Though the committee had turned a blind eye to the pastor's priorities before hiring him, as events unfolded they became too obvious to ignore.

Double Standards

What happens when a pastor is a lover of power, wealth and status -- seeking it out in others or accumulating it for himself? The choices he makes will reflect his double standard, as in the following story:

My husband was asked to be Sunday School director. He agreed, but said he would need to stop teaching Sunday School to do a good job as director. They told him no. Then the pastor's son was asked and he also said he would need to stop teaching to become director. Now they said yes. The pastor went and found a replacement for his son.

As surely as children copy their parents' behavior, the pastor's double standards will become part of the congregation's expectations as well. If the pastor thinks rich people are more important and more worthy of his time, so will his sheep. The young homeschooling mother quoted above shared these reflections on what was once her home church:

The pastor spent most of his time with the wealthiest members. It seemed like the homeowners were highly thought of, but those who were poor did not get company or invitations. When the wealthy women had baby showers, many attended; when the poor women had baby showers not many came -- unless it was an unwed mother, in which case attending made the wealthy women feel good about themselves.

The young couples got together a lot for functions of the church. But the ones who had money to golf and boat and such got together much more often. Those of us who were poor were only invited to babysit these people's children.

All the sermons in the world won't make up for misplaced values -- as in "Your actions speak so loudly, I can't hear what you're saying." When the pastor acts as though people come in grades -- like gasoline -- a sense of resignation sets in: Yes, we're all brothers and sisters in Christ, but some of us deserve more attention, more leeway, more glory.

Another disappointed Christian tells this story:

A group of churches from our town were putting on a play one summer. A wealthy man from one church had underwritten the production. When the play was over, his investment would be repaid and any remaining proceeds would go to mission work. The producer made no bones about the fact that his investment entitled him and his family to break the rules -- many of which he had made himself.

So, for instance, though eating backstage or in costume was not allowed, his wife would bring ice cream cones for their kids in the cast. They seemed insensitive to the fact that not only were they living by a double standard, but their behavior -- letting their kids have treats in front of the others -- was rude.

The odd thing was that the people from the rich family's church just shrugged it off, "Oh, that's just the Drellens!" they'd say, as though there were no elephant in the living room. Because they valued the generosity the family chose to show once in a while, they'd been putting up with the double standards for years.

But because a wealthy family is generous, should they be allowed special privileges? Should they be less accountable?

The Responsibility of the Rich

More accountable is what they should be -- at least according to Scripture.

I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God (Matthew19:24).

What might make it so difficult is that those with wealth, power and status can be just as foolish as those without -- they just have a bigger playing field and more opportunities for their foolishness to get them in trouble. Because of the weakness of their spiritual brothers and sisters to think more highly of them, to flatter them, to excuse their wrongdoing -- and because some pastors will cater to them, flatter them and give them more church status -- they can easily fall into the sin of valuing themselves above others as well.

Or they can also be played for fools. Their wealth makes them a target -- sometimes blatantly, as revealed in the experience of this wealthy empty-nested matron:

I hired a housecleaning service and over time became close to the young owner who cleaned my house. She was always urging me to go to her church, even though I was quite happy with my own. Later I found out the church, though Christian, was very cultlike, especially in targeting people who could be useful to them. That was why so many of them had been encouraged to start service businesses that catered to the wealthy.

And what of my own experience? A dozen years and several churches later, I look back on the experience of opening my door to someone who felt somehow less worthy and see it more clearly: Ours was a church with a rigid social structure, where people of different social classes rarely mixed. Those with wealth, power and status were held in higher regard, granted special privileges and lifted into leadership positions they often had no business being in.

As a relatively new Christian, I had very little to qualify me as a Bible study leader. To make a place for me, many more mature women of faith had been passed over. Yet no one seemed to question my placement. Clearly, the less favored in the congregation had absorbed the message that those with more wealth or power were more qualified to lead. Granted, this connection is sometimes true -- but not always. Yet, in some churches there is an underlying ranking of members based on their usefulness to the church -- in terms of money, time and energy. A single mother, for

instance, or a family hounded by persistent poverty or illness, or a member with a handicap -- these people are on the farthest fringes from the leadership.

The wealthy have a special responsibility not to crave special attention, nor encourage flattery, nor expect double standards. To accept such privileges would be to exploit the weakness of others, leading to corruption of God's plan for his church:

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked (Luke 12:48).

Pastors: Love Your Flock

Pastors, too, must be alert to inequalities and favoritism in their churches -- and God help them if they are the cause! For their own example sets the tone: If some people are more worthy of their time and attention than others, their congregants will see themselves and each other the same way.

Scripture points us in the opposite direction:

On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensible, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor (1 Corinthians 12:22-23).

In my experience, I've seen churches that shine, pastors who lavish love on all, who seem to feel equally at ease with CEOs and unpredictable street people. Their unconditional love becomes not only an example for the entire congregation, but also a beacon of hope for individuals within the body who struggle with feelings of worthlessness and despair.

But I've also seen examples that make me weep. The upscale church that hired the expensive pastor, for instance, for decades had offered a Sunday School class for special needs adults.

Every Sunday they came from around the county -- a couple vanloads from group homes and several in their parents' cars -- and shuffled, staggered or walked fairly normally to their classroom, where they sang and learned of Jesus' love for them. After Sunday School, they attended the church service, scattered among the designer-labeled people in the front rows. Sometimes they made weird noises or movements. Others may have felt uncomfortable, but no one ever complained. Their presence was a tangible reminder that in God's eyes we are all the same.

I guess the new expensive pastor didn't see it that way. He dismantled their Sunday School program within his first few months at the church and no one ever saw them again.

I wonder how many people we never see again because we never really saw them to begin with? 

Fleeing the Folly of Favoritism I wanted to hear from an expert on this subject, but I had to know I was hearing from someone who was a true doer of the Word. I chose my pastor -- Rev. David H. Miller of St. John's Episcopal Church in Petaluma -- because in the two years I have known him, I have never seen a hint of favoritism. Here is what he shared with me: John Stott, the world-renowned author and theologian, former chaplain to the Queen of England, had been invited to a 1979 reception in his honor at Christ Church Cathedral in Springfield, Massachusetts. A very posh event in the great hall, with high tea and the finest silver and china. The guests included church leaders, civic leaders, and other notables -- and somehow my wife and I. I remember us all standing around stiffly, awed by our surroundings and by being in the presence of someone so close to God. The food was laid out beautifully but no one had touched it. No one seemed to be able to break through the heavy atmosphere and be themselves. I felt someone standing near me and turned, and there he was -- John Stott himself, standing in front of us with a tray of food. As he went from group to group, serving us all, you could feel the stiffness melt. I'm called to be a servant. Servants don't demand or show preference. They serve whomever the Master brings into their orbit. They don't choose. When asked how a pastor might avoid favoritism, Pastor Miller quickly responded with four questions for every pastor: 1. Who am I serving? 2. Am I falling prey to fear of man? 3. Who do I trust as the supplier of my life -- wealthy human beings with limited resources, or God with His unlimited ones? 4. Whose glory am I seeking? Now you can see why he's still my pastor!

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