article on hypocrisy in 250 words
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I live and work in a small group of islands just off the northwest coast of Scotland. The Western Isles has a population of about 35,000 people, similar in culture and language, but diverse in religion: the northernpart of the archipelago is predominantly Protestant, while the southern half is predominantly Roman Catholic.
When a local man was elevated to the episcopate as Roman Catholic Bishop of Argyll and the Isles in 1991, there was an understandable pride throughout the Western Isles of Scotland. Gaelic-speaking, media-savvy, a man of the people, everybody’s friend — Bishop Roddy Wright was the face of the local Roman Catholic Church in the Western Isles during the early part of the 1990s.
The disappointment of the diocese was palpable when, in 1996, Bishop Roddy resigned from his office to marry a divorcée. For weeks the media attention was unrelenting, and it escalated when it was discovered that the bishop had previously fathered a son to another woman — a son who had been born in England in 1981 and who was ten years old when he accepted the bishopric.
In his moving autobiography, Feet of Clay, Roddy Wright (who died of cancer in 2005) acknowledges that he should never have accepted office: “My shame,” he wrote, “is that I did not face up to my responsibilities at that time. …I never confessed my secret to anyone and buried myself in my work — a crazy escape route” (p. 160). When the secret did finally emerge, it undid what had been, until then, a zealous and energetic ministry among loyal members of the diocese.
Sometimes our Protestantism has fared no better. Carlene Cross’ Fleeing Fundamentalism is the tragic memoir of a minister’s wife who lost her faith on account of her husband’s two-facedness. David Cross was one of fundamentalism’s rising young stars when he became pastor of a church near Seattle. He was everything the movement idealized, his early preaching “a spellbinding adventure packed full of anecdotes, challenges and nuggets of wisdom” (p. 34).
However, the busyness of pastoral ministry soon disguised a gradual addiction to pornography and alcohol, a “dark side” that “could grow unimpeded” (p. 142). No one knew about it; it was sheltered behind the facade of a successful ministry. His disillusioned wife describes her husband, with his “Halloween mask of amiable minister in the tailored suit of Dr. Jekyll, morphing effortlessly the next second into the dark-cloaked Mr. Hyde. The temptations of both — the sacred and the profane — great, seducing dividers embraced in the same flesh.” And she adds: “He loved this life of doubles” (p. 146).
Much the same story is told — but with a happier ending — by Clay and Renee Crosse in their memoir,I Surrender All. Clay Crosse was one of the leading Christian singers of the 1990s. His song, from which the book gets its title, catapulted him into big-league Christian entertainment. His subsequent confession to his wife that he had become addicted to pornography led to a time of deep personal self-examination, godly sorrow, and repentance.
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When a local man was elevated to the episcopate as Roman Catholic Bishop of Argyll and the Isles in 1991, there was an understandable pride throughout the Western Isles of Scotland. Gaelic-speaking, media-savvy, a man of the people, everybody’s friend — Bishop Roddy Wright was the face of the local Roman Catholic Church in the Western Isles during the early part of the 1990s.
The disappointment of the diocese was palpable when, in 1996, Bishop Roddy resigned from his office to marry a divorcée. For weeks the media attention was unrelenting, and it escalated when it was discovered that the bishop had previously fathered a son to another woman — a son who had been born in England in 1981 and who was ten years old when he accepted the bishopric.
In his moving autobiography, Feet of Clay, Roddy Wright (who died of cancer in 2005) acknowledges that he should never have accepted office: “My shame,” he wrote, “is that I did not face up to my responsibilities at that time. …I never confessed my secret to anyone and buried myself in my work — a crazy escape route” (p. 160). When the secret did finally emerge, it undid what had been, until then, a zealous and energetic ministry among loyal members of the diocese.
Sometimes our Protestantism has fared no better. Carlene Cross’ Fleeing Fundamentalism is the tragic memoir of a minister’s wife who lost her faith on account of her husband’s two-facedness. David Cross was one of fundamentalism’s rising young stars when he became pastor of a church near Seattle. He was everything the movement idealized, his early preaching “a spellbinding adventure packed full of anecdotes, challenges and nuggets of wisdom” (p. 34).
However, the busyness of pastoral ministry soon disguised a gradual addiction to pornography and alcohol, a “dark side” that “could grow unimpeded” (p. 142). No one knew about it; it was sheltered behind the facade of a successful ministry. His disillusioned wife describes her husband, with his “Halloween mask of amiable minister in the tailored suit of Dr. Jekyll, morphing effortlessly the next second into the dark-cloaked Mr. Hyde. The temptations of both — the sacred and the profane — great, seducing dividers embraced in the same flesh.” And she adds: “He loved this life of doubles” (p. 146).
Much the same story is told — but with a happier ending — by Clay and Renee Crosse in their memoir,I Surrender All. Clay Crosse was one of the leading Christian singers of the 1990s. His song, from which the book gets its title, catapulted him into big-league Christian entertainment. His subsequent confession to his wife that he had become addicted to pornography led to a time of deep personal self-examination, godly sorrow, and repentance.
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