Maybe it was the spirit of God or perhaps just the spirit of the moment, but something clearly seized the hearts of the endless sea of Promise Keepers gathered on the Mall at Saturday’s huge “sacred assembly.” Even before the meeting officially opened at noon, a solid mass of men was already stretched from the Capitol to beyond the Washington Monument. They did the wave and chanted Jesus’ name. There were hugs, high-fives and the murmur of prayers coming from tepees set up on the Mall. “We’re here to pray for the nation and ourselves and our personal crimes,” said Andrew Dougherty, of Sunbury, Pa., who credits Jesus with rescuing him from crack.
Despite the Washington setting, Promise Keepers eschews partisan politics. Its appeal was not to Congress but to America and to God. For though many Promise Keepers clearly have political views and passions, they simply don’t see Congress as the source of salvation–either theirs or society’s. They are looking, instead, to the Lord.
Nonetheless, as the group has grown (it claims that 2.6 million men have attended its regional rallies), so have the concerns among those who see something sinister about its rhetoric, and something scary about the political power it might one day choose to wield.
Why does a religious group dedicated to the creation of “godly men”–meaning men who are faithful husbands, good fathers and committed to honoring their promises–evoke such consternation? One reason is Promise Keepers’ provocative rhetoric. In “Seven Promises of a Promise Keeper,” the Rev. Tony Evans, a Dallas minister, advises men to “reclaim” leadership from their wives. However Promise Keepers explains it (in this context, it says, leading means serving), the passage sounds to some like a call for male supremacy. Another red flag is the group’s contention that homosexuality is a sin, along with extramarital sex and pornography.
Worrisome as such theology may be to many, it is, after all, theology. But critics, who believe such theology has political implications, insist on seeing the organization through secular eyes. They dismiss Promise Keepers’ reassuring words about love, commitment, reconciliation and faith and then root about for signs of the group’s supposed true intentions.
Misunderstood as Promise Keepers’ political intentions are, its position on race may be even more so. Though the group regularly denounces racism, critics say it is not serious about fighting discrimination. These critics want it both ways: they condemn Promise Keepers for not being politically active against racism while also accusing it of having a political agenda.
In fact, McCartney is clearly passionate about “racial reconciliation.” In his Denver office, he eagerly shows off photos of his two biracial grandchildren. “These are my two sons–grandsons,” he corrects himself. “One is Samoan, and one is African-American.” He then launches into an emotional confession about his own awakening to racism in America. At the first Promise Keepers gathering in Boulder, ColD., McCartney believes the Lord told him that if only whites attended, “I ain’t coming.” As he recounts the story, McCartney’s eyes brim with tears, and he describes how his insight, which he shared with the audience, was “not well received.” The message got the same chilly reception at stadium rallies elsewhere. But when he delivered his racial-harmony message in Portland, Ore., an elderly black man rose and declared, “Maybe there is hope.” Says McCartney: “The spirit of God grabbed me by the heart and validated me and said… ‘You stay the course’.”
McCartney is clearly trying. Even though the crowds are overwhelmingly white, speakers at Promise Keepers gatherings are exceedingly racially diverse. And racial reconciliation is invariably addressed from the podium. Still, the group is a long way from overcoming the skepticism of many blacks, who almost instinctively distrust a largely white, conservative organization.
The staunchest supporters of the Promise Keepers may be their wives. Many seem unconcerned with the group’s Biblical allusion to wives’ “submitting” to their husbands, and are only too eager to sing the praises of men who come home, help out and play with the kids. Debbie Foster, of St. Petersburg, Fla., says that since her husband, Dan, became a Promise Keeper, he “has probably done more laundry than me.” Aleta Reeder, an Indianapolis woman married to a Promise Keeper, insists, “Women need to understand that Biblically, it is the role of the man to be head of his household, and there’s nothing wrong with that if it’s done in the right way.”
Such testimonials, of course, make many women cringe. Yet some women prefer an old-fashioned husband, who is dutiful and appreciative, to his more contemporary, but negligent, counterpart. And invariably, promise Keepers say they have become more attentive. Some feel the group’s appeal has little to do with the rhetoric about male leadership. Wade Horn, executive director of the National Fatherhood Initiative, thinks the group is telling men they are unique and irreplaceable. “That message speaks to the best instincts within men,” he says, and offers reassurance, in contrast to the past 80 years, when what we’ve been told is that they’re “really not necessary.”
Another reason men flock to Promise Keepers is that it offers a socially sanctioned place to be with other men, says Alvin Baraff, a Washington psychologist–at a time when the prototypical “men’s club” ha.s essentially vanished. But Promise Keepers is not simply interested in male bonding, but in creating a spiritual revival. And that makes the question of whether it is a political group somewhat irrelevant. Certainly, it’s possible that, at some point, the leaders will be seduced by politics and will decide to put the massive mailing list to some partisan political use. And it’s inevitable that political groups from the far right will try to tempt their flock. But promise Keepers’ aspirations, as it is quick to acknowledge, go well beyond the political. And flits critics were being honest, most would admit that that is precisely what bothers them: not just the potential for political activism, but the in-your-face religiosity of a group that makes no apologies for its unquestioning and particular relationship with God, and that is actively seeking converts.
