Lifestyle
Pastor pushed out after parishioners complain about focus on racial justice
Pastor Benjamin Boswell, who was pushed out as the senior minister at Myers Park Baptist Church, is seen Sunday, Jan. 26, in Charlotte, N.C.
Sam Wolfe for NPR
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Sam Wolfe for NPR
CHARLOTTE, N.C. — The Sunday after Donald Trump won a second term, Pastor Ben Boswell took to the pulpit at Myers Park Baptist, a liberal church in Charlotte, and delivered the sort of blunt, provocative sermon for which he is well known.
Boswell likened the moment to what he called the “gathering dark of Hitler’s rule.” He added that Trump’s election would lead to the “crucifixion” of immigrant families as well as transgender and nonbinary people.
“But our faith also teaches us … that every crucifixion needs a witness,” Boswell said. “The fight is not over, it’s just beginning.”
The congregation, including the board of deacons, the church’s governing body, gave Boswell a standing ovation.

Several weeks later, the board met on Zoom. They voted 17-3 to ask Boswell to step down. NPR obtained the audio.
It provides a rare window into the debate within an organization when the tone of its social or political messaging clashes with its business model.
Conversations we rarely hear
Marcy McClanahan, then head of the board, said the first reason Boswell needed to go was plunging attendance. Myers Park had gone from average weekly attendance of about 350 when Boswell arrived in 2016 to about 150 last year.
“Ben has been given every chance to change his words and actions to appeal to a broader audience,” McClanahan said, “but has not been successful in doing so.”
Myers Park Baptist Church has a rich civil rights history and sits in one of Charlotte’s wealthiest neighborhoods.
Sam Wolfe for NPR
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Sam Wolfe for NPR
Fellow Deacon Robert Dulin was more direct.
“We have got to put more butts in the seats, butts in the seats,” he said.
In a statement later, Dulin said he personally loved what he called Boswell’s “powerful prophetic preaching.”
The problem, he said at the meeting, is that too many other parishioners didn’t. Dulin said many people who had left the church in recent years had complained about the 44-year-old pastor’s heavy focus on social and racial justice.
“Indicted because I’m white”
Dulin paraphrased what he said he had heard over and over from those who had quit the parish: “I am tired of being indicted because I am white. I am tired of being banged over the head every week about immigrants and LGBTQ, and I just want to come to church and be encouraged.”
Carol Pearsall, who is 73 and a longtime church member, said she heard the same thing from outgoing parishioners and knew what they meant. “I was ready for less guilt-trip and more love,” said Pearsall, who added that she remains a fan of Boswell’s and never considered leaving.
Asked if the pastor’s removal was an attempt to save Myers Park, she responded: “Absolutely.”

Boswell says the conflict at Myers Park is part of a much bigger national trend to roll back diversity, equity and inclusion programs. He thinks the country is in a pivotal moment, when “that work is coming with a cost, and people are getting tired and backing off.”
Nicholas Rhyne, who grew up in the church and is a Boswell supporter, says the divisions in Myers Park reflect those in the Democratic Party writ large. He’s 30 and says people in his generation came of age during the global financial crisis, climate anxiety and the polarized politics of the past decade, and were excited and inspired by Boswell to make change. Meanwhile, he says, some older members of the congregation prefer to take a slower, more measured approach.
“There’s a group of us who are younger and more passionate and maybe a tad more progressive who are fed up with just being told to wait, don’t worry,” said Rhyne. “There’s definitely a generational divide.”
Nicholas Rhyne, 30, grew up in the church and says he supports former Pastor Ben Boswell. He says the divisions in Myers Park reflect those in the Democratic Party writ large.
Sam Wolfe for NPR
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Sam Wolfe for NPR
“Sacred cows make the best hamburgers”
McClanahan, the former head of the board of deacons, told NPR that Boswell was not pushed out over politics or his preaching. Instead, she said, the church needed to focus more on other areas of its strategic plan, including faith development, the church community and sustainability.
“Ben’s an excellent preacher,” she told NPR, “but there’s more to leading a church than preaching.”
For instance, some say Boswell focused too much on social justice and not enough on tending the flock.
Bob Thomason, a former chairman of the board of deacons, said most or all of the congregation supports social justice. “But for some people, being able to focus on social justice … would be a welcome luxury because they have alcoholic spouses,” he said. “They have children that are addicted. They have cancer. They have these personal needs.”
Thomason, who said he was speaking as a longtime church member, said Boswell wasn’t great at the pastoral part of the job.
“We were basically taking care of ourselves as best we could,” he said.
Boswell disagrees and says he supervised a staffer who was devoted to pastoral care full time.
During his nine years at Myers Park, Boswell says he pushed the church to confront what he called its whiteness. Several years ago at an anti-racism seminar, he said Myers Park needed to change its wedding policy, which had been described as “WASPy,” and decolonize its interior space as part of what he called a “whiteness audit.”
Boswell says he ran into resistance from congregants who, for instance, told him to take down Black Lives Matter signs at the church. Boswell persisted.
“I like to joke [that] churches have sacred cows,” Boswell said during the anti-racism seminar. “Sacred cows make the best hamburgers.”
Myers Park Baptist Church is a mostly white congregation known for its focus on racial and social justice.
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Sam Wolfe for NPR
Declining attendance and giving
But as people left Myers Park, their contributions left with them. Since 2020, the church budget has shrunk by nearly a quarter, according to McClanahan.
Declining giving and church attendance are a national phenomenon, but some on the board of deacons saw it as an existential threat.
“Ben needs to leave in order for our church to take a different direction and grow because we are dying on the vine,” Dulin told his fellow deacons during the board meeting.
Myers Park is an overwhelmingly white church in a neighborhood where mansions can sell for up to $4 million. It has a proud civil rights history and wears its inclusivity on its red brick walls. One giant sign on the front of the church reads: “80 years of inclusivity, community, spirituality and justice.” Another reads: “Open to all, now and forevermore.”
In the board meeting, then-Deacon Allen Davis warned that getting rid of Boswell would make it difficult to sell that message.
“What will come out is that we’ve snatched the keys from the … minister who had been pushing us to confront whiteness to challenge racial justice in our community,” said Davis, one of three deacons who resigned in protest after the vote.
Allen Davis, who quit as a deacon at Myers Park, says the removal of Pastor Ben Boswell makes it much harder for the church to sell its message of inclusivity.
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Sam Wolfe for NPR
McClanahan insisted to NPR that the church will continue to advance racial and social justice. “One person’s leaving does not change that path at all,” she said.
“The church betrayed me”
Some congregants are skeptical. Bruce Griffin is a warehouse worker in Charlotte who joined the church more than five years ago. He says Boswell created a wonderful, welcoming community. Now, he’s bitter.

“I feel the church betrayed me,” said Griffin, standing outside the church during a meeting called to address the turmoil over Boswell’s departure. He said the meeting was all business.
“There was no hugging,” he said. “There was no fellowship.”
When asked about the fact that some white congregants said they felt beaten down by Boswell’s continued emphasis on social and racial justice, Griffin responded that as a Black man he felt beaten down every day.
Griffin said he planned to leave Myers Park.
Elizabeth Peterson, on the other hand, said she was attending for the first time in years. She said Boswell divided the church, which she said seemed more focused on people of color and LGBTQ+ folks than on white women in their 60s like her.
“I wished that he could have brought his energy for diversity and for change of the culture of the church and included us to come with him,” said Peterson, who said she might return to Myers Park.
Elizabeth Peterson, a parishioner at Myers Park who drifted away in recent years, says the church seemed more interested in people of color and LGBTQ+ folks than older, white women like her.
Sam Wolfe for NPR
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Sam Wolfe for NPR
Boswell has heard this criticism before. He says when someone has been part of the dominant culture for so long, the focus and attention on anyone who’s been marginalized feels like a slight.
He knows some people think he made a mistake by focusing so much on racial and social justice, but he said he’d do it again.
“My feeling is that as a progressive congregation, as a progressive pastor, our job right now is not to back away,” Boswell said, “but to double down.”

Lifestyle
Comedian Ronny Chieng is thankful he never got a job out of law school

A note from Wild Card host Rachel Martin: When you’ve watched Ronny Chieng’s comedy, it becomes pretty clear he’s a guy who takes none of his success for granted. He knows life could have turned out differently. What were the odds that a twenty-something Chinese Malaysian guy trying to launch a comedy career after law school in Australia would make it big in America? Whatever the odds were, Ronny Chieng beat them to become one of the biggest names in comedy.
He’s been a regular correspondent on The Daily Show since 2015 and is now a rotating host. He absolutely crushes his role as Jimmy O. Yang’s best friend in the Hulu show Interior Chinatown. And he’s got his third Netflix comedy special out now called Ronny Chieng: Love to Hate It, which made me laugh so hard I started recommending it to anyone within earshot.
The comedy in his specials is rooted in personal experience and observation, but this one is especially so. From stories about the challenges and absurdity of IVF to his dad’s death, he weaves in and out of these intimate places in the most hilarious way possible.
Throw in some razor-sharp observations about masculinity and YouTube in the Trump era, and boom! You got yourself an epic comedic journey well worth the ride.
The trailer for “Ronny Chieng: Speakeasy.”
YouTube
This Wild Card interview has been edited for length and clarity. Host Rachel Martin asks guests randomly selected questions from a deck of cards. Tap play above to listen to the full podcast, or read an excerpt below.
Question 1: How do you consciously try to emulate your parents?
Ronny Chieng: I don’t think anything is that impressive. [laughs]
That’s how I mimic them because they’re not easily impressed by much — but in a good way. So, I think in that way I try to see reality the way they see it, where they’re like, “Oh yeah, this is not that big of a deal. This is not that big of an achievement.” [laughs]
Rachel Martin: I think that would be helpful in your line of work, actually, because there is the risk that things spiral and all of a sudden, you think you’re really awesome.
Chieng: Yeah, yeah. It keeps you working to pursue perfection, right? You never think you’ve achieved it, so it’s good.
Martin: Did that ever cut the other way for you growing up? Like, if you did a thing and you wanted them to be proud of you and they were like, “Hmm?”
Chieng: I don’t know. I don’t think I was that impressive a kid. I didn’t have that many great achievements anyway, so I don’t feel like they wronged me by not being impressed. So, no, I don’t. I was like, “Yeah.” I was like, “You’re right. It’s not that impressive.” [laughs]
Martin: And do you find that people in your line of work are constantly seeking that kind of affirmation? Do you find yourself falling into that trap?
Chieng: You know, my line of work being stand-up comedy — undoubtedly, we seek affirmation through a crowd response to our jokes, right?
We are looking for a good reaction to a joke, specifically laughter. So, in that way our integrity is compromised.
But we don’t believe in our own marketing. Someone told me, “The best comics think that their material is bad.” And there’s something to that, I think. I don’t know any great comic who’s like, “Oh, my material is the best in the world,” you know?
You’re always looking at other comics and going, “Man, that guy’s really funny. I need to write a better bit,” you know? You never feel like you have the greatest joke in the world. You’re always impressed by someone else’s joke. That’s how I feel, anyway.

Jimmy O. Yang (left) and Ronny Chieng (R) at the premiere of Hulu’s “Interior Chinatown.”
Valerie Macon/AFP
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Valerie Macon/AFP
Question 2: What was a disappointing experience that now feels like a blessing?
Chieng: I couldn’t get a job coming out of law school. My grades were too bad, and I couldn’t get hired. And everyone around me was getting jobs because I went to a very good law school, so everyone around me was these very hyper-competitive type-A people who were getting really good jobs at these big law firms. And I felt a little left out at the time.
But in hindsight, I’m like, “Oh man, I’m so glad I never got hired,” because I think it would have been more difficult for me to quit a job and do comedy. As it was, I just — I didn’t have anything to lose, so I could just do comedy. It wasn’t like I had to pick between comedy and a corporate job. I was just not smart enough like my wife. I went to law school with my wife and she’s like a genius. Her grades are amazing. She got all these job offers. But I couldn’t get a single one.

Martin: So, were your parents disappointed that that didn’t pan out for you?
Chieng: No, they weren’t because I never told them.
Martin: What do you mean?
Chieng: I didn’t tell them I was doing comedy. They thought I was studying for the bar exam, which I was in fairness. But at that time, I was just doing comedy. And by the time they found out, it was almost too late.
Martin: Wait, that’s awesome. So you just led this separate life — assuming you were in a good enough place that when they found out, they weren’t traumatized. You’re like, “I’m a comedian — and I can pay my rent. So it’s okay?”
Chieng: Yeah. They only found out honestly when I got hired on The Daily Show.
Martin: Wow. Did they know what The Daily Show was?
Chieng: No, they didn’t know what it was, but after I told them I got hired, they googled it, they found out all about it, they were like, “Oh, you know, this is an important show, this is a very famous show,” and I’m like, “Yeah, I know, I know.”
They kind of trained me to be like, you know, it’s just an opportunity. It doesn’t mean you’re good. [laughs] It just means you have a chance to do something cool, right? Like that’s what it was, so that’s what I took it for. And that’s really what the strength of being on The Daily Show is. Like, more so than fame or whatever, it’s like this opportunity to work with extremely talented people and really become better yourself. Because everyone at that show is so good at their jobs that you don’t want to be the weakest link. And so you lift your game. So, that’s why it’s the best job in comedy. It makes you a better writer, performer, comedian, satirist, you know? That show is — it’s like the Harvard Business School of comedy.
Ronny Chieng on “The Daily Show.”
YouTube
Question 3: How have your feelings about death changed over time?
Chieng: Oh, yeah. It’s become more real. It used to be this kind of conceptual abstract, right? And then it’s become very real the last couple of years, seeing it up close. It becoming more real was kind of frightening. I was studying Buddhism recently, and there was this very interesting concept that I’m going to butcher because I’m going to give you the Cliff Notes of it in, like, five seconds. But the idea was something like: we are a different person in every moment, anyway. Our thoughts are different. Our cellular makeup is different in every second, every moment. Meaning — we are different people in every second of every moment anyway. So, the concept of “me” doesn’t really exist because I’m constantly changing anyway.
And so when I die, it doesn’t matter because I never really existed. So that is kind of like the Buddhist answer — one of the Buddhist answers — to that.
Martin: I like that idea. Does that mean that when a person dies, you think that it’s just another transition, or are they gone?
Chieng: I think that, unfortunately, as a person observing someone dying, that person is gone. I’m just talking about me, personally — for me to come to terms with my own mortality. That’s how I view it anyway — that I never really existed. I’m different every moment, so if I go, that’s just another change, right? Dealing with other people, that’s tough. I think that requires a different concept.
Lifestyle
Jets Part Ways With Aaron Rodgers, Moving in 'Different Direction' at Quarterback

Aaron Rodgers
Over And Out In Big Apple
… Jets Part Ways
Published
Aaron Rodgers‘ time with the New York Jets is officially over — the team made the announcement it was moving on from the four-time MVP on Thursday … saying it was time to move in a different direction at quarterback.
Newly-hired head coach Aaron Glenn and general manager Darren Mougey released a joint statement on the decision minutes ago … saying they met with AR8 last week and let him know of their plans.
“It was important to have this discussion now to provide clarity and enable each of us the proper time to plan for our respective futures.”
The Jets brass thanked Rodgers for his “leadership, passion and dedication” … and wished him all the best with his future.
41-year-old Rodgers played just one full season with the Jets — throwing for 3,897 yards, 28 touchdowns and 11 interceptions in a stinker of a 2024-25 campaign for the organization.
The Jets went 5-12 … and fired head coach Robert Saleh early on, a move Rodgers adamantly denied having a role in.
His first season with Gang Green ended after just four snaps … with the Super Bowl champion rupturing his Achilles in Week 1 against the Buffalo Bills.
Several teams will be looking for a quarterback … so if Rodgers wants to play, he’ll have no problem finding a new home.
Lifestyle
New board elects President Trump chair of Kennedy Center

Education Artist-In-Residence Mo Willems supervised a 2019 rehearsal at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC.
Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images North America
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Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images North America
President Trump is the new chair of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, following through on a promise the president made last week. He posted the following on the social media platform Truth Social on Wednesday afternoon.
“President Donald J. Trump was just unanimously elected Chairman of the Board of the prestigious Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. The President stated, “It is a Great Honor to be Chairman of The Kennedy Center, especially with this amazing Board of Trustees. We will make The Kennedy Center a very special and exciting place!”
Trump was elected by a board that excluded the 18 Democratic appointees purged by the president last week. New board members, according to a statement from the Kennedy Center, include the Vice President’s wife, Usha Vance as well as Susie Wiles, Dan Scavino, Allison Lutnick, Lynda Lomangino, Mindy Levine, Pamela Gross, John Falconetti, Cheri Summerall, Sergio Gor, Emilia May Fanjul, Patricia Duggan and Dana Blumberg.
In a statement sent to NPR marking her departure, former Kennedy Center president Deborah Rutter said, in part:

“The goal of the Kennedy Center has been to live up to our namesake, serving as a beacon for the world and ensuring our work reflects America. I depart my position proud of all we accomplished to meet that ambition. From the art on our stages to the students we have impacted in classrooms across America, everything we have done at the Kennedy Center has been about uplifting the human spirit in service of strengthening the culture of our great nation.
“I have been motivated my whole life by the fundamental values of America – freedom, equality, and a deep belief in the American dream. Core to our American experience is also artistic expression. Artists showcase the range of life’s emotions – the loftiest heights of joy and the depths of grievous despair. They hold a mirror up to the world – reflecting who we are and echoing our stories. The work of artists doesn’t always make us feel comfortable, but it sheds light on the truth.
“Much like our democracy itself, artistic expression must be nurtured, fostered, prioritized, and protected. It is not a passive endeavor; indeed, there is no clearer sign of American democracy at work than our artists, the work they produce, and audiences’ unalienable right to actively participate.”
Trump has boasted about never attending a performance at the country’s national cultural center. He skipped the Kennedy Center Honors in 2018, traditionally attended by sitting presidents. A few of that year’s honorees had vocally criticized his leadership and politics, including the singer Cher and theater artist Lin-Manuel Miranda.
On Monday, a longtime ally, Richard Grenell, was named interim executive director.
For more than a decade, the Kennedy Center’s board was led by philanthropist David M. Rubenstein, who had deferred retirement until next year and told the New York Times that he believed he was on friendly terms with the president. Until recently, the 36-member board was notably bipartisan, with members split equally between Republicans and Democrats. Several had been appointed by President Biden shortly before he stepped down; they included former White House press secretary Karine Jean-Pierre and his longtime aide and advisor, Mike Donilon.
Board members are appointed to six-year terms, and typically, those terms are fulfilled. The Kennedy Center’s leadership addressed the legality of Trump’s actions in a statement on Friday.
“Per the Center’s governance established by Congress in 1958, the chair of the board of trustees is appointed by the center’s board members,” it said. “There is nothing in the center’s statute that would prevent a new administration from replacing board members; however, this would be the first time such action has been taken with the Kennedy Center’s board.”
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