Memorial Day weekend 1988, we hid our children across town out of concern for their safety. Saturday night we walked the perimeter of our house with flashlights in hand, checking for bombs. It wasn’t a normal weekend of ministry.
What do you do when a situation gets out of hand, when you can hardly keep ahead of the press, when people accuse you of terrible motives and deeds? In tense situations, ministry takes on new dimensions. This is the story of what happened when one church’s board of elders decided one Tuesday evening to redirect the church’s nursery school.
Over a Nursery School?
Sherman Oaks Presbyterian Church is a moderate-sized congregation in Los Angeles’s San Fernando Valley, just over the hill from UCLA. The two of us had served the church as co-pastors for five years, seeing growth and other good signs.
The community of Sherman Oaks is upper-middle class, predominantly Jewish, and tied closely to the entertainment industry. Several television celebrities had placed children in our school. Michael Landon had had a child baptized in our church years ago.
When we arrived in Sherman Oaks, one of our concerns soon became the church’s nursery school, served for the previous twenty-three years by the same director. It enjoyed a strong reputation in the community, with some eighty students and fifteen teachers. Yet for us, it was a source of increasing tension.
While constitutionally it remained an expression of the church (under the authority of our Session and on our grounds), its stance had drifted toward independence and even disdain for the church. Previous pastors had struggled with this situation, but no one had been able to deal effectively with it.
Pam’s original goal-to build bridges between the church and school-was frustrated by repeated conflicts. Most students’ families maintained no other association with our church. Friction over parking, disregard for church property, and financial matters caused recurring administrative headaches.
For instance, the school paid $1,300 yearly (of its $100,000 budget) for the use of our facilities. Some of us felt the school seemed to enjoy the benefits of our building without taking on the responsibilities or liabilities. We had the headaches; they had the turf. One time a parent parked on the church lawn, breaking a sprinkler. When confronted by Pam, the parent refused to pay. The school director then charged Pam with anti-Semitism. Later, when another nonchurch family from the school threatened a lawsuit over rumors the mother, herself, had begun, we established a committee to investigate the deteriorating relationship of the church with the nursery school.
Slowly we began to realize the critical issue was not administrative but philosophical and theological. The school had taken on a secularized, pluralistic stance that tolerated the gospel at best and compromised it at worst. “God is nice” was about the extent of the school’s theological commitment.
When we asked about how a Christian emphasis was presented in the school, we were told that Bible stories were not appropriate for these children. No chapel; no Christian songs; no winsome and positive informal witness; Hanukkah and Santa Claus at Christmas; Passover and the Easter Bunny at Easter. This wasn’t what we wanted for our school. The Session had to push hard just to hang a picture of Jesus in a classroom.
When Pam began to reinvolve the Session in the oversight of the school through the existing bylaws, the loosely run nursery school advisory board winced. Finally, when our Session sent a duly elected representative to that board and she was asked to leave her first board meeting, we knew the showdown had come.
The investigating committee, after careful research and discussion with all parties involved, concluded that the Sherman Oaks Presbyterian Nursery School was not in the best interests of our church or ministry. It needed a major redirection. Specifically, the committee brought two recommendations to Session:
1. That the nursery school advisory board be dissolved immediately, and a new commission of Session subsume all functions into the church ministries. This was to take place within two months (by July 1988).
2. To alleviate anxiety, however, that other changes not be implemented for sixteen months (September 1989), at which time an intentional Christian philosophy, curriculum, and faculty would be in place. This was to allow any current faculty the time to relocate if they in good conscience couldn’t profess faith in Christ and ascribe to the new program.
We knew our proposal was bold, but we thought it was fair.
The vote by the Session on Tuesday, May 24, 1988, was sixteen yes, two no, and one abstention. The next day, Wednesday, we called the nursery school director into the office to inform her of these changes. We asked for a meeting with her teachers the next afternoon.
The Blowup
The nursery school faculty, as expected, was upset. But we underestimated the intensity of the anger. One teacher asked, “Are you prepared for the community response?” We thought we were. We had several elders present as witnesses and supporters at this taped and transcribed meeting. But we weren’t prepared for what came next.
The school staff walked out to the playground, where we discovered the press was waiting. The next morning, Friday, a huge, front-page spread in the Daily News talked about our “antiSemitism” and the “firing” of teachers. The firestorm had begun. We later learned the teachers had engaged an attorney to steer and monitor press coverage of the controversy.
Friday and Saturday, we raced from phone call to personal interview to phone call. Media crews crowded the building. CNN; channels 2, 4, 5, 7, 11, and 13; Jewish Journal; the Associated Press; The Los Angeles Times; the Daily News; the Herald Examiner; and numerous radio stations called to interview us. Sally Jesse Raphael wanted to fly both sides to New York for her TV show, but we declined.
I’d never seen or heard anything like it. The phone rang constantly. Our receptionist finally resorted to writing phone messages such as, THIS WAS NOT A CHRISTIAN ATTITUDE or CALLER SAID, “GO TO HELL.” Then came the bomb threat to the church and the death threat to us. The police came and filed a report.
Elders began staffing extra phones, and we frantically put out press releases. Each night on TV, we heard some new charge: “John and Pam Powell are dangerous to this community” or “Some are calling them John and Pammy.”
Then the nursery school staff called a community meeting for families, and 150 people showed up. Some members we had considered friends said publicly, “The leaders of this church are bigoted.” Just as the meeting broke up, a young father of a student, a man we had cared for in our home, jumped onto the platform, got the crowd’s attention, and called for a demonstration on Sunday.
Saturday evening, we called the elders and deacons together. We prayed and discussed how we would handle the next day’s worship services. The executive presbyter of our San Fernando Presbytery promised to worship with us in support, as did the executive of our synod.
Memorial Day Sunday morning was gorgeous with its azure sky-perfect for a media event. With placards and posters, about seventy children and adults came marching. Between services, every TV station in L.A. showed up for a press conference on our patio. Questions were fired. CBS taped our service.
We had stationed elders at strategic entries to be prepared for any disturbance during the service. With the death and bomb threats, we didn’t know what to expect. But we got through the service without interruption. The sermon title was “When the Church Must Be the Church.”
The next weeks continued with great stress. All the teachers had resigned, but we agreed they would finish the school year-two weeks of tense ceasefire. The press returned on the final day of school, as did increased tension, for follow-up coverage of the conflict. But we made it through the day-and eventually the entire episode-without harm.
Costly Lessons
What did we learn in the midst of the firestorm of publicity and controversy?
First, we learned that witness is costly. Our church took the stand that Christ would be at the center of all our ministries. We held to that decision under excruciating pressure. We’re proud of our elders for standing firm in the arena.
It cost us dollars, too. Even though relations with the relocated nursery school remain strained, the church forgave some $15,000 in outstanding debts and nonrefundable deposits. Our elders had to dig into reserves in order to speak the truth in love.
As pastors, we’re still smarting from the personal hurt. For us, Jesus’ words take on new meaning: “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me” (Mt. 5:11, NIV). It hurt to be publicly ridiculed on the evening news and to have to hide our kids for their safety and to have our motives impugned. The Bible’s tribulation texts that encourage the church to endure have come alive in a new way.
Second, a strong stand needs strong support. As pastors, we were only as strong as our support from elders willing to withstand attack and endure the pain. As a church, we were only as strong as our membership was willing to stand with us. Because both elders and members buttressed us, we were able to stand.
Our gatherings for prayer and encouragement also were critical. We immediately mailed a call to prayer to every church in our presbytery and to a national covenant group of pastors of which we are members. Our synod put this call to prayer on the front page of the synod newspaper and placed it in the national Presbyterian computer network.
One thing conflict does: it lets you know quickly whom you can count on. Making Jesus Christ the focal point of our nursery school’s philosophy, curriculum, and staff caused members of the church to decide whom they would support. The “Who is on the Lord’s side?” of Joshua was never more clear within the church. It became a demarcation line. Several elders told us, “If my friendship with so-and-so divides on this issue, then it must not have been much of a friendship.”
Third, timing is crucial. We were years tardy in seeking change, evidenced by the vitality of the hostile community under our roof which vented itself with such great effectiveness. A problem relationship had been allowed to simmer too long. There is great danger in abdicating leadership. In our case, it allowed something alien to our purposes to become so hardy.
Fourth, we found that for many, pluralism is only a one-way street. People’s intolerance of our alleged “religious intolerance” was astounding. We saw a significant distance between the secularized/cultural Christians and Jews, and those for whom faith has substance.
For instance, Michael Landon later capitalized on the issue for his television program, “Highway to Heaven.” One episode, based on our experience, suggested that the church was self-righteous and cruel to want Christian teachers. Tolerance, according to the show, is what is required. Ultimately, the pastor in the episode calls for the school to teach all religions, and everyone applauds. That’s not how we understand Scripture; nor is it the calling of the church. But that’s secularized religion-and showbiz!
To our great gratitude, several rabbis publicly affirmed our action. One preached a message supporting us in his temple service that Friday. His temple marquee read, CONGRATULATIONS, PASTOR POWELL. He understood the obvious expectation that teachers of faith ought to profess that faith.
Dennis Prager, on his “Religion on the Line” radio show, said what we as a church were experiencing wasn’t “religious bigotry but secular bigotry.” We agreed.
We discovered that federal law (the Civil Rights Act of 1964, section 7) guarantees the right of churches to require a profession of faith for teachers. Such a profession stands as a bona fide occupational requirement, protected by law. Yet, later when we went to the Times with a classified ad seeking “professing Christians” to teach in our reorganized nursery school, our copy was denied. The secular religion of “tolerance” sometimes blocks genuine religious freedom.
Fifth, consequently, the press must be approached wisely. We’ve learned the power of the press. The evening news is a difficult place to fight the good fight of faith.
In the press’s presentation, sympathy was rarely with the church. A headline in the May 27 Los Angeles Times read, “School Tells Its Jewish Teachers to Accept Christ or Leave”-not exactly the slant we’d have given it. The encouraging smiles of the first interviewers turned out to be disappointingly deceptive when we heard the negative spirit of the edited copy on the air.
Here are several lessons we learned about press relations:
Write a press release and hold to it. As the story developed, we finally declined comment because we were not eager to feed a voracious press.
Don’t try to clear your name. It was hard not to want to. But a mentor clarified our feelings when he asked, “Are you there to protect yourselves and the church, or to do ministry?” We realized ministry could go on with those who mattered even if we never convinced hard-core detractors that we were actually nice people and a good church.
Allow lay leaders the opportunity to use special expertise. One of our members, a public relations officer with the telephone company, stepped in during the demonstration to organize the press and establish guidelines and boundaries. Her skill helped us greatly.
If we were to encounter a similar situation in the future, we’d work more closely with such lay leaders, rather than assume full responsibility ourselves or receive attacks directly because we’re the pastors.
Let unlikely allies speak to your cause. We sent a letter delineating the reasons for our stand to the Los Angeles Board of Rabbis. It turned out to be a great idea. They had it published quickly, and since it came from the people we were being accused of offending, it brought support from many quarters. Later, when the local interfaith council held a discussion on this issue, panel speakers agreed beforehand that if our particular case were to come up in the public meeting, the rabbi would speak to it. Our case didn’t arise, but we felt supported by people ready to take our side for us.
Picking Up the Pieces
Our Session preschool commission sprang into action during the summer of 1988. They had to fill the void left by the dissenting nursery school staff and parents, who moved their operation to another location in the community. A task force of the commission developed the new school structure, guidelines, and staff. The church now has a winsome and capable nursery school director and staff committed to positive Christian ministry. By the fall of 1989, the school was about half the previous size, but growing.
Our church had been tested in this episode, and the Session remained united, as did the congregation, for the most part. Certainly some dissent arose, mostly from those who hadn’t gotten the facts (even though we mailed a letter the day we met with the teachers) or who held a radically different understanding of the church.
About a dozen people eventually withdrew their church membership, and we lost about 1.5 percent of our annual income. Yet the support of most of our members was strong. And letters from many pastors and churches across the country ran three-to-one in support of our actions.
We’re still working on forgiveness. Many of those who opposed us had been trusted church friends. Afterward a neighboring pastor hired one of the harshest opponents as his secretary. Forgiveness doesn’t come easily after deep hurt and betrayal.
But we’ve also learned about fighting the good fight. The disturbance uncovered an anti-Christian bias in parts of our society. Sometimes, we found, delineating the line between faith and nonfaith truly means “not to bring peace but a sword.”
These are unpopular words in this day of tolerance and pluralism. But we are convinced they are as true and critical in our time as ever. As one of our elders said, “You know, this is all about faith; some people just don’t understand that!”
When we first came to Sherman Oaks John was sitting at a community dinner with the honorary mayor. As they talked, he discovered she didn’t know where the church was located, even though it had been there forty-five years. From then on, he was determined to put Sherman Oaks Presbyterian Church on the map.
Well, we expect the mayor knows where the church is located now-and what we believe, as well.
Nothing told us our church was about to be splashed across the pages of newspapers from Korea to Florida, New York to Hollywood. Yet, through it all, we learned you don’t have to be a big church to be a great church, but there are times when a church must be a church.
Copyright © 1990 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
