ONLY A LITTLE BIT ELITIST - MOSTLY PRETENTIOUS REALLY

I got a fright this morning when, bleary-eyed I looked at my NZ Herald on-line app and read this:

INSIDE; THE SCANDAL ROCKING ARISE CHURCH


A sprawling multimillion-dollar church organisation is facing a string of misconduct allegations from former members.

Churchgoers who interned as part of a ministry course and volunteered their services claim they felt used, underappreciated, overworked and burned out by the church.

Independent journalist David Farrier, today's guest on the Front Page podcast, has been investigating these issues and reporting the accounts of congregation members on his Webworm blogFor the last six months, I've been hearing from members of Arise saying: 'Look, this church has a darker side and there are people being spat out on the other side that have really been broken by what's gone on,'" Farrier says.

Farrier says it's important not to confuse this with a tiny church group that meets over the weekends to worship.

He says the church has over 10,000 members, spread over 12 campuses across New Zealand. The members are encouraged to tithe, which entails a donation of 10 per cent of your salary to the church.

"Holy-Moly" I thought, "we've been rumbled", still reeling from Robert's and his son's accusations and his presumed defection after deleting all of his posts. "Robert's made allegations to the authorities".

When I rubbed the 'sleep' out of my eyes and read the report properly, an exercise not often undertaken by members of this blogging community, I realised that it wasn't The Church of the Blessed Curmudgeon (temporarily parked) that was being investigated, it was the ARISE church.

Oh well, as old T.S. said:

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

Robert might arise again I suppose but we'll have peace while he's gone.

T.S. again:

In this decayed hole among the mountains
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the wind’s home.
It has no windows, and the door swings,
Dry bones can harm no one.