Bishop Pike’s Return Engagement

Back in the 1950s James Pike was picked up by the media as the perfectly modern cleric. As dean of the Episcopal cathedral up on Morningside Heights, and later as bishop in San Francisco, he excelled in demonstrating how little one could believe and still call oneself a Christian, or at least an Episcopal bishop. Finally, even his long-suffering colleagues had had enough, and Pike was censured. After leaving the hierarchy, his personal life in a shambles, Pike drifted from the church into the twilight world of “questing for new spiritualities,” and for a medium who might put him in touch with a son who had committed suicide. Pike died in September 1969, wandering alone and lost in the wilderness near the Dead Sea. His friends saw a measure of tragedy in a great talent gone terribly wrong. Others were not so kind. But for two decades James Pike was celebrated as one of the formative figures in American religion. Looking through three current histories of religion in America, however, one finds only one mention of Pike, in a footnote.

That is not how John Spong reads history. Spong is the Episcopal bishop of Newark, New Jersey, and author of a little book titled Living in Sin? which is being breathlessly, and somewhat desperately, promoted as “Controversial!!!” According to Spong, Jim Pike is in the canon of saints who, against the forces of superstition, tradition, and prejudice, have daringly pioneered the “inevitable” progress of history. On that list of honor are such worthies as Jan Hus, Copernicus, Galileo, Charles Darwin, John {Honest to God) Robinson, and, of course, John Spong. Bishop Spong cannot be accused of hiding his light under a bushel. He frankly, and repeatedly, tells us how courageous he is being. He reports on the press stories, television interviews, and other evidences of media excitement about his “unconventional” views. “It is amazing to learn that my ideas have such enormous power,” he says with a touchingly innocent air of self-importance. Of course he gets nasty mail, and even threats, from the unenlightened. But he promises that he will not cave in to the reactionary hordes. Anyway, what can they do to him? “We live today in a gentler world. I am not likely to be burned at the stake,” he observes. Change is inescapable, he incessantly announces, and he is not about to be intimidated by those who “refuse to come to terms with the real world.” Progress is God, and John Spong is her prophet.

RJ

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Richard John Neuhaus

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Back in the 1950s James Pike was picked up by the media as the perfectly modern cleric. As dean of the Episcopal cathedral up on Morningside Heights, and later as bishop in San Francisco, he excelled in demonstrating how little one could believe and still call oneself a Christian, or at least an Episcopal bishop. Finally, even his long-suffering colleagues had had enough, and Pike was censured. After leaving the hierarchy, his personal life in a shambles, Pike drifted from the church into the twilight world of “questing for new spiritualities,” and for a medium who might put him in touch with a son who had committed suicide. Pike died in September 1969, wandering alone and lost in the wilderness near the Dead Sea. His friends saw a measure of tragedy in a great talent gone terribly wrong. Others were not so kind. But for two decades James Pike was celebrated as one of the formative figures in American religion. Looking through three current histories of religion in America, however, one finds only one mention of Pike, in a footnote.

That is not how John Spong reads history. Spong is the Episcopal bishop of Newark, New Jersey, and author of a little book titled Living in Sin? which is being breathlessly, and somewhat desperately, promoted as “Controversial!!!” According to Spong, Jim Pike is in the canon of saints who, against the forces of superstition, tradition, and prejudice, have daringly pioneered the “inevitable” progress of history. On that list of honor are such worthies as Jan Hus, Copernicus, Galileo, Charles Darwin, John {Honest to God) Robinson, and, of course, John Spong. Bishop Spong cannot be accused of hiding his light under a bushel. He frankly, and repeatedly, tells us how courageous he is being. He reports on the press stories, television interviews, and other evidences of media excitement about his “unconventional” views. “It is amazing to learn that my ideas have such enormous power,” he says with a touchingly innocent air of self-importance. Of course he gets nasty mail, and even threats, from the unenlightened. But he promises that he will not cave in to the reactionary hordes. Anyway, what can they do to him? “We live today in a gentler world. I am not likely to be burned at the stake,” he observes. Change is inescapable, he incessantly announces, and he is not about to be intimidated by those who “refuse to come to terms with the real world.” Progress is God, and John Spong is her prophet.