Growing up as the son of a pastor, I saw Arthur Schopenhauer’s writings on our church walls: “religious truth requires the armour of falsehood”.
I witnessed bitter divisions in the church where I was baptised, socialised, and christianised.
I saw the Head Pastor, my father’s boss, chased away by church elders who revered him when I was a child.
The chief advocate for the removal campaign accused the head pastor of running the church like a family business, unilaterally appointing his son as his successor.
The boss had flatly told the agitators that if he had planted a cocoa farm instead of a church, it would have been his personal harvest.
God of Tartuffe
The confusion made sense to my young brains when I later learnt about the frightening truth in 2 Corinthians 11: 14-15.
“And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. So it is no surprise if his servants, also, disguise themselves as servants of righteousness”.
Since then, I have looked at the church through the lenses of Tartuffe, that dreaded sanctimonious bigot in French writer Moliere’s masterpiece, who exploited the wealth and dignity of his confidants in the religious community while quoting the Bible with clinical accuracy.
Last week, Ghana nearly witnessed a ferocious combo of tartuffery and armageddon when gunshots rattled the tomb of Apostle Kwadwo Sarfo Kantanka, the respected founder and leader of the Christo Asafo church, over what media reports say relate to lethal confrontations about leadership succession.
In the end, Adwoa Safo, daughter of the late Apostle and former Gender Minister and Parliamentarian, was reportedly shot by factions allegedly controlled by her brother, Israel Kojo Sarfo, Akofena, who had reportedly installed himself as leader.
What is in a name? Perhaps founder Kwadwo Sarfo was intentional about the name he chose for his organisation.
Christo Asafo means Christ himself is the owner of the church, literally.
God not being the author of confusion, we expected the leadership succession of his church to be without drama, at least not gunshots.
Papa’s anointed children
As Adwoa Sarfo prepares to fly abroad to remove bullet pellets from her face, we are finally, but reluctantly, daring to confront the sacred subject of church leadership succession in the charismatic religious community.
We are also asking whether church patrons whose offerings and tithes sponsor big projects, are shareholders who deserve a say in who controls their money or lead the church.
Should they pay for admission to the church gym when they pay tithe every month?
In nearly every Charismatic/apostolic church in Ghana today, an interesting trend is emerging, where children of church leaders and founders play leadership roles–to strategically position themselves to step into daddy’s big shoes.
And frankly, most of them exhibit fine qualities for church leadership and organisational management. More than ministerial training, they have received higher academic preparation in prestigious institutions.
They stay behind after church to tidy up, pray and plan.
Often this leadership preparation tells on the delivery of their mandates–as vessels graced to inherit daddy’s flock.
Joel Duncan-Williams appears to have individuated himself to take the reins of Action Chapel when his Papa retires.
It would make sense for Dr. Selassie Agyinasare to lead the Perez Chapel in the absence of the Archbishop.
Recently, we have seen Yoofi Otabil, son of Dr Mensah Otabil of ICGC, talk with elegant brilliance about legacy and pressure in church leadership.
Can we say the same thing about Christo Asafo’s Akofena, who allegedly went against a court injunction to crown himself leader while his father’s funeral is yet to be held?
The new slavemaster
The gravest question we have conveniently avoided in the church leadership conversation, is whether religion has suddenly replaced slavery in Africa.
If Adwoa Sarfo and her brother were slugging it out over who was well placed to lead a groundbreaking research to cure cancer, another Ghanaian would be gunning for the Nobel Prize after Kofi Annan won one in 2001.
The evils of the transatlantic slave trade evokes dreadful images of metalic shackles on our necks and ankles.
In those dark days, the dream of the African was to break free and run to freedom.
Today, religion is the new slavemaster, installing chains in our brains and instigating us to fight our brother, demean our culture and demonise our ancestors.
They forced us onto slave ships to travel to the Americas, to work on their plantations.
Today, our prophets extort money to buy us American visas from the spiritual realms.
Not once has an American needed a prophecy to come to Africa.
In the place of white slavemasters on slave ships are Bible-wielding talkers who come under various guises and titles–as apostles, prophets, evangelists and veritable Tartuffes who claim to hear from God.
They instruct adults to invest in the church for rewards in Heaven, instead of buying stocks.
They tell us how to marry while their divorce unfolds in court. In football, they know who will win.
The other day, two popular Ghanaian prophets staged a silly show of insults about how many prophecies a man of God was entitled to in a year.
One said 50 a day while the other insisted seven was enough for 50 years.
They couldn’t tell us why Ghana cannot survive without tomato imports from Burkina-Faso, and why the god of China helps them to manufacture cars while Adwoa Sarfo prefers to drive Japan’s Landcruiser, instead of her father’s Kantanka Omana or Nkunim models.
By KWESI TAWIAH-BENJAMIN
Tissues Of The Issues
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Ottawa, Canada
