Discourse Rules for Holy Conferencing: Being Honest about M-O-N-E-Y

Discourse Rule Two

Effective holy conferencing requires policies and procedures to create transparency and accountability among all participants about organizations other than the church that they may be representing in holy conferencing. In particular, effective holy conferencing requires policies and procedures that create transparency and accountability about funding sources for delegates who represent organizations other than the church, as they engage in holy conferencing.

One would like to think that ecclesial sacred conversations occur in a hermetically sealed holy environment where politics, power, and money hold no sway. Alas, that is not the case. Nor has it been the case at any point in Christian history. Politics has always been part and parcel of church assemblies and their discernment process.

Human nature being what it is, and human communities what we are—prone to bow to those with wealth and power—those gathering groups of people for holy conferences would be well advised to think about the way in which power and money may sway, or even determine, the outcome of a church’s discernment process. In my view, there have to be clear discourse rules that take into account these human tendencies and provide checks and balances against them, if holy conferencing is to remain holy.

I don’t by any means wish to suggest that participants in holy conferencing don’t or shouldn’t have manifold interests and commitments beyond their commitment to the church. We are all of us affiliated to various organizations, both within the churches and outside them. In holy conferencing, we bring to the table the weight of our life histories, our cultural formation, our class status, our political and intellectual commitments, our personal likes and dislikes and optic on the world.

And this is all to the good—that is, it’s to the good, when we acknowledge the biases and commitments that grow out of our particular interests and affiliations as starting points in a dialogic process where we open ourselves to the possibility of seeing things from other standpoints, as we pursue the truth together. This acknowledgment of our diversity and of the ways in which we are shaped by different histories and influences makes holy conferencing all the richer. It assures that a multiplicity of viewpoints—ideally, as many as the parish of God’s world contains—are represented at the table of holy conferencing.

What I’m addressing with this discourse rule are not the manifold interests, commitments, and affiliations we all bring to the table of holy conferencing. What I’m addressing is the real possibility that some of the groups with which we are affiliated would like to do all they might to influence the outcome of holy conferencing, even when those groups are not at their core first and foremost organizations formed to listen carefully to the gospel and to ask what the gospel has to say to contemporary culture.

In the American context, the persistent and strong influence of such political interest groups can never be discounted when church folks meet for holy conferencing. In a nation with the soul of a church, what churches say and do has influence far beyond the boundaries of the church itself. Political activists, corporate leaders, people of power and influence, care about what the churches say and teach—if only because what the churches say and teach affects the direction of our culture, and thus affects the political and economic spheres.

This being the case, it seems to me critically important that churches aiming at holy conferencing do all they can to identify the various interest groups represented by delegates to holy conferences, and, above all, call for accountability and transparency about how funds from those groups have flowed to members of the church conference. Questions that can justifiably be asked in this regard would be the following:

1. Is anyone at the table of holy conferencing primarily a representative of a particular interest group, and only secondarily a representative of the church seeking the Spirit’s voice for the whole church?
2. Is anyone representing a particular interest group at the table of holy conferencing being funded or paid by that interest group?
3. Is anyone representing a particular interest group at the table of holy conferencing using tactics (e.g., handing out gifts with strings attached, circulating printed materials containing misinformation designed to malign or harm some children of God, threatening or black-mailing) that have no place at the table of holy conferencing?

In my view, churches cannot be too intentional about pursuing answers to such questions as they meet for holy conferencing. That is, they cannot be too intentional about pursuing such answers if they want their conferencing to be what it claims to be about: holy, a shared dialogic quest to listen to the voice of the Spirit without undue influence of any interest group, no matter how powerful or well-connected.

And it goes without saying that the intent to transcend such control is an ongoing battle in a capitalistic society. Shut the door to one attempt to buy delegates at the sacred conversation, and interest groups will inevitably find another way to try to buy influence. Money talks. Money has power. And it is always on the move.

Dirty money moves beneath the radar screen. Dirty money does not want people to see where and how it is flowing. For those concerned to safeguard the “holy” in the phrase "holy conferencing," resisting the influence of dirty money takes a strong commitment to truth-telling, justice-seeking, and authentic discernment. But even more, it takes those same strong commitments to determine that one will seek in every way possible to track and rule out the influence of such money, when it flows in hidden channels.

What appears on the face of it to be a benign gift to a church or to members of a church gathering can, on closer inspection, have ethically dubious strings attached. What appears to be money coming from a group with clean hands can, on closer inspection, turn out to be money disseminated by another group for which the seemingly praiseworthy group is merely a front.

Tracking the ways in which money flows behind the scenes to influence what church groups do and say today and how their decisions appear in the media is a full-time job, one that requires the commitment of a people covenanted to seek the truth in love together. This is an imperative need—and a serious challenge—in a culture in which the ultimate source of money given to an organization may be light-years removed from the various front organizations through which the money is advanced.

A corollary of all that I am saying is that church-sponsored institutions also need always to be looking carefully at the sources of money provided to these institutions. Does money offered to a church institution come from a source that consistently violates key gospel principles and key theological commitments of the church? If so, what does it say about our principles that we are willing to take this money in our church-affiliated institution?

Is this money given with strings attached? Does it require us to engage in behavior that undercuts our commitment to gospel principles? As an example, is the money given to a particular church institution tied to expectations that this institution not hire openly gay employees, or that it refuse to adopt non-discrimination policies regarding sexual orientation? If so, should we accept this money?

If we are a United Methodist institution, can we do so, and claim fidelity to the church’s Social Principles and to resolutions of General Conference that call upon the church to oppose discrimination on grounds of sexual orientation? What does it say about our commitment to the Social Principles and to our resolutions, if any of our UMC institutions do not have policies in place to prohibit discrimination on grounds of sexual orientation, or if our governing boards permit gay or lesbian employees to be discriminated against, and do nothing to investigate such discrimination and see that justice is done when injustice has taken place?

I suggest that these corollary considerations have to be kept in mind by those concerned to keep holy conferencing holy, because delegates come from and represent church-affiliated institutions. One cannot discount the effect of the commitments (or the trade-offs or sell-outs) members of a church-affiliated institution have made for money, when it comes to what is said and done at the table of holy conferencing.

When institutions throughout a church have accepted funds from organizations seeking to control the church’s sacred conversation and what the church says and does in the public sphere, it would be naïve to assume that these influences do not permeate the table of holy conferencing. Delegates bring their commitments to the table. Some of those commitments include commitments to represent the interests of groups funding their home church-affiliated institutions.

The commitments in which church institutions are enmeshed through financial dealings affect the tenor of holy conferencing. If churches want to safeguard their sacred conversations, they have to be clear-eyed about the kinds of commitments—including commitments to funders—that they permit their church-sponsored organizations to undertake. These commitments must constantly be scrutinized in light of the church’s key theological teachings and of the gospels.

Otherwise, there will be such a disparity between what the church and its institutions say and what they actually do (for the sake of money), that people will not be impressed with the rhetoric as they watch the reality undercut the rhetoric. Much ink has been spilled in the past decade in the media about the purported need to safeguard the religious affiliation of church-affiliated institutions, particularly institutions of higher learning.

This conversation has centered largely on determining how the leaders of churches are to assert or keep control over institutions in their jurisdiction. It has often masqueraded as a conversation about the soul and identity of church-affiliated institutions.

In my view, the conversation has usually been misplaced, because the crucial question it has not asked is the question of whether the commitments church-affiliated institutions make, especially to funders, undercut the core principles of the gospel and of a church’s teaching. This question—the elephant in the living room—is one that most church-affiliated institutions will not permit at the table. If it were answered honestly, church-sponsored institutions might have to ask questions not about the loss of religious identity, but about the loss of their soul—about their captivity to leaders who are soulless, even when they employ religious rhetoric or tout their strong ties to the church sponsoring the institution they lead.

I speak out of my own experience working within the administrative structures of two United Methodist institutions of higher learning. I have no doubt that, had I worked at a similar level in colleges affiliated with other churches including my own Catholic church, I would have seen something of the same picture I saw within the Methodist colleges/universities for which I worked. Soullessness is a pervasive problem in many religiously affiliated institutions of higher learning today, and it is evident right at the top of those institutions, in their key leaders and governing boards, many of whom value fiscal soundness more than social transformation or fidelity to religious principles.

What I saw in these institutions troubled me. I heard key leaders say things like, “The color of money is green. It spends the same, no matter who it comes from.” I was rarely in a position to protest, and I did not offer my own opinion except when asked to do so, since the governing structure of both institutions was exceptionally autocratic and did not entertain the input of those “serving” (a word often used by the top leader of both institutions) the college/university president.

Nonetheless, I was and remain troubled by the assertion that the color of money is green. I am troubled by the assumption that a church-affiliated institution can take money from a source whose goals and ideals are clearly at odds with those of the church. I am troubled by the assumption that a church-affiliated institution can take dirty money and not be corrupted in the process—not sell its soul.

When money comes with strings attached, back-room deals are often cut. Midnight calls ensue. Decisions that should be made in independence of the influence of funders are made with full complicity of funders, and often with funders ultimately controlling the decisions made. When these funders have deep-pocket ties to members of governing boards (and they usually do), their influence is compounded.

As an example, I know from my own administrative work in two church-sponsored institutions of higher learning that how both institutions have dealt with the church’s counsel that workplaces must not discriminate on the grounds of sexual orientation has been driven by financial considerations, by concerns about keeping the loyalty of key funders. One of these institutions still lacks a statement published in its official policy handbook—its university catalogue—prohibiting discrimination on grounds of sexual orientation.

Since this university is in a right-to-work state in which an employee has no ground for contesting unfair dismissal, I would be very hesitant to recommend that any openly gay or lesbian person take a job at this institution. The president of the institution has a peculiar history of hiring gay and lesbian persons out of proportion to our numbers in the population, and then dismissing us in grossly unfair ways when it seems expedient to do so.

The other church-affiliated institution at which I have worked as an administrator just brought (I am told on good authority by a faculty member) an outspoken anti-gay speaker to address its graduating class. I am told (and have no reason to doubt) that this speaker made explicit and ugly statements about the evil ways of gay and lesbian persons to graduating seniors.

This happened in a United Methodist college immediately after General Conference passed resolutions condemning homophobic violence and discrimination on grounds of sexual orientation. Where will students take their core values, when they are presented with such parting words by their United Methodist alma maters: from the church and what it teaches? Or from the homophobic speaker brought in by the leader of the United Methodist institution? When boards of such United Methodist institutions stand by in silence as such behavior contradicts the sponsoring church’s core teaching and gospel principles, will people be convinced that these teachings and principles mean anything at all?

What I hope to emphasize in recounting all these experiences is that no one comes to the table of holy conferencing free from outside influences. When money is attached to those influences, the discourse rules for the sacred conversation need to be realistic and honest about the possibility that money—including dirty money—can determine the course of the sacred conversation.

Delegates for holy conferencing who represent church-affiliated institutions that have made deals with the devil based on accepting dirty money—for instance, money attached to continued homophobic discrimination—are not likely to call their institution’s practices into question, when they sit at the table of the holy conference. To do so would require that their own institution behave differently, and with transparency and accountability about the funds it receives.

I speak here as well out of the experience of having been involved in theological conversations in my own Catholic church about the horrific problem of clerical abuse of minors. This deep-seated problem has everything to do with abuse of power. It is first and foremost a crisis of abuse of power, and secondarily a crisis of abuse of youth.

And that abuse of clerical power and privilege is deeply rooted in and compounded by abuse of money. There are very weak structures within the American Catholic church to require fiscal accountability and transparency on the part of dioceses and bishops. Until such structures are in place, we cannot expect the crisis of clerical sexual abuse of minors to be addressed forthrightly.

The United Methodist Church, by contrast, has a rather admirable history of financial transparency and accountability. The United Methodist emphasis on sound stewardship sets a standard other churches—including the Catholic church—would be well-advised to emulate.

But if this tradition of fiscal responsibility and sound stewardship is to mean much in the context of holy conferencing, then it is incumbent on the United Methodist Church to be clear-eyed about both how money is used to influence the outcome of holy conferencing, as well as how money is used within church-affiliated institutions, which send large numbers of delegates to church conferences. People will listen to what the church proclaims when that proclamation is lived first, and spoken only following the lived witness.