Cheers, jeers greet pastor

Mostly poor flock welcome minister living the good life as critics rally outside his church

Toronto Star/March 12, 2007
By Surya Bhattacharya and Joseph Hall

Thousands of members of the embattled Prayer Palace congregation cheered on their pastor yesterday as he bragged about his suntan, the support of worshippers and the openness of his administration while one congregant warned, "The devil decided to mess with the wrong church."

Outside, private security guards, church volunteers and a couple of police cruisers kept a close eye on a small group of demonstrators protesting the lavish lifestyle of senior pastor Paul Melnichuk, his twin sons, who are the church's junior pastors, and the Prayer Palace's dwindling contributions to charity.

The Prayer Palace and the Melnichuks were the subject of a recent Sunday Star investigation that found the church's three pastors living in multi-million-dollar mansions and enjoying a lavish Florida hideaway while encouraging the largely poor congregation to tithe a percentage of their income.

At the same time, the Star investigation found, the church reportedly took in some $3 million from its members in 2005, while doling out a minuscule $9,443 to "benevolent and charity" activities.

But if Melnichuk was aware of the protestors outside, he gave nary a sign to the worshippers who greeted him with enthusiastic cheers and hallelujahs as he made his way to the pulpit during a service at the massive church, which dominates the Highway 400 and Finch Ave. intersection.

"I've brought a little bit of Florida with me in my suntan," Melnichuk told his congregants, most of whom are black.

"You can see my white teeth better. ... I want to look so much like my congregation," the 72-year-old evangelical preacher said.

After the story was published, Star reporters involved received threats and were inundated with emails promising to pray for them.

Yesterday's service lasted three hours inside a coliseum-style setting, with a gospel choir and testimonials by those whose lives had been changed or "saved" by the church.

Michigan-based minister Byron Hayes preached a guest sermon as pictures of swaying congregation members flashed on giant TV screens alongside psalms from the Bible and, occasionally, the words "HE LIVES!!!"

"The devil decided to mess with the wrong church," proclaimed one member from the stage. "It's all right, it's all right, though, because it means we are going to a higher level.

"We're still here and we will always be here. So keep praying," said the young man, a member of the church's youth group who introduced himself as "Owen."

"I was told to come up here and give a testimony of how the church has changed me," said the youth, one of many who offered their stories of support to congregants before Melnichuk made his appearance.

But, as members inside raised their hands and swayed to cries of "Hallelujah!" and "Amen!" the security guards and church volunteers – distinct in their mustard yellow jackets – kept constant watch on the boisterous protest outside the church's main gates, where a group of about 25 condemned the Melnichuks' opulent lifestyle, and urged congregants to demand more accountability for their tithed offerings.

"We want to bring awareness to the fact that people are giving from the community...while the ministers from the church are living extravagant and luxurious lifestyles," said Robbie Robinson, a protest organizer.

"We're saying that if $3 million is being taken out of the community, some of that money should be given back to the community."

Many of the protestors, all of whom were black, said they were incensed that the Melnichuks were urging their largely poor congregation to tithe generously while living in gated mansions costing millions and driving luxury cars.

The Prayer Palace's record of decreasing involvement in good works and community improvements was also cited by the demonstrators, who circled as officers in two parked police cruisers maintained a watch nearby.

The protestors shouted to passing congregants that they were being exploited by phoney preachers, whose main interest was lining their own pockets.

Many were also angry that the bulk of the church's worshippers were black, while the family leading them was white.

Robinson, who works two jobs to support his family, objected to the Prayer Palace's focus on donations.

"There are other churches in the community with black ministers who don't (demand) that kind of money from their congregation. These are three white ministers, a father and two sons, who live in multi-million dollar homes," Robinson said.

Among the protestors were several who decried what they perceived as exploitative conduct of the church against its black members.

"Money should be invested within the black community," said protestor Jane Reid, pointedly observing that "after all, 90 per cent of the people who attend the church are black."

But the words of protest didn't make it inside the sanctuary, where Melnichuk encouraged worshippers to stand up and take a good look at the news reporters who may have infiltrated the congregation.

Brushing off the media attention, Melnichuk told his cheering worshippers that tithes in the wake of the Star's investigative report have actually increased by 10 per cent.

After the story was published March 4, he said, "our board of directors said the pastor will be back and will make a statement."

After pausing to welcome the media yesterday, Melnichuk added: "The statement is this ... the board of directors met and discussed (Saturday), with about 400-500 key leaders of this church ... and a solicitor has been retained."

As well, Melnichuk said, a "strategic communications solutions" team has been engaged.

"Okay, that's it sweetie pie," he said, concluding his remarks with a smile.

Within moments, a woman in a burnished gold dress and head-dress ran to the stage and slapped a $50 bill onto Melnichuk's forehead.

The move was met with cheers and, following a request by a church volunteer, congregation members started throwing money at Melnichuk's feet.

"First the funds go the church," said the beaming pastor. "After that, if the folks want to bless me..."

The church volunteers, acting on Melnichuk's instructions, divided the growing pile of cash into three collection buckets; the pastor then instructed a young member who is training to be a preacher to dip in and take out "a handful of cash."

"I hope the media got a picture of me with a $50 bill stuck to my forehead," Melnichuk laughed.

With files from Andrew Chung, Jessica Leeder and Dale Brazao