by Yen Feng
THE first time I met Kong Hee was in 2009. I was brought to him backstage after a Christmas concert put up by the church and introduced to him as a reporter. We exchanged the usual pleasantries. After he heard I had studied in New York on a scholarship, he offered me a job. I declined. He was shuffled away by a bodyguard in a suit into his dressing room.
Our encounter was over in less than a minute. That was my first impression of him. Not the God-fearing pastor, nor the doting husband and father, but a man who took chances, and quickly moved on when told no.
Today is the last day of closing arguments for the trial. As Kong Hee’s lawyers gave their final oral submissions, the case against him that has lasted almost three years since his arrest in 2012 will renew speculation of his fate. Will he walk free, or go to jail? If convicted, he could face a lifetime behind bars. As a free man, he will face the rest of his life in infamy. Either way, life for him will never quite be the same.
Judging by the final submissions from both the defence and prosecution, the case seems to hang on Kong Hee the man, and whether his most trusted advisors have been able to say no to him.
Five other church leaders besides him have been accused of misusing some $50 million in church funds to finance his wife Sun Ho’s music career in the United States. But Kong Hee stands at the epicentre of the case not just because he is the church’s founder.
It is because as the founder, he is also its congregation’s spiritual father.
At the height of the church’s popularity in 2010, it had an average weekly attendance of more than 33,000 members who gave generously in time and money. When the church wanted to erect a bigger building, some members contemplated selling their homes to donate to the church’s Building Fund. This may be an extreme example but it was not unusual. Such was the devotion the man commanded.
I had spoken to Kong Hee for less than a minute, but I would go on to spend countless hours reading about him and hearing stories from church members and others in the Christian community who knew him personally. I often wondered if they were talking about the same person.
The judge must be wondering the same thing.
At the heart of Kong’s legal defence is that he did not know that his actions could be criminal. He had acted “in good faith”, with God in one ear and the advice of lawyers and auditors in the other. He was just following instructions.
The prosecution doesn’t buy it. Chief Prosecutor Mavis Chionh in her final submissions on Monday described Kong as a “well-practised liar” who knew exactly what he was doing. Even though it was Xtron Productions that managed Ms Ho’s career, its directors had acted only in accordance to Kong’s wishes, so the prosecution’s case goes.
Who’s right? The people I spoke with over the two years I reported on this story would probably say the charismatic leader was neither persona exclusively.
Former church leaders and members who have been disenchanted by his management style have used words like “puppeteer” and “God” to describe him. Although his was one of the largest congregations in Singapore, he preferred to keep close to him a handful of loyalists, known as his “inner circle”, which include some of the five people who sit at his table in court. If you are disloyal, you are “expunged” or “ex-communicated”. You lose access. Your funds are cut off. You’re no longer “family” – no matter what message is put through the official channels to the rest of the church.
Whether this is true or just talk from disgruntled members who have fallen out of his favour is anyone’s guess. Others I’ve spoken with say he is an able and involved leader. A visionary. Someone who cares about the big picture but also pays attention to details. A person who remembers the names of your children. Someone who takes time to pray with you and for you, even if he’s met you only once.
No matter which side of the fence you’re on, there are facts not in question. Kong Hee, 51, was a student at Raffles Institution and Raffles Junior College. He has a degree from NUS in Computer and Information Sciences. He also has several theological degrees, including a Master of Divinity and Doctorate in Theology from an American seminary. But to non-church goers, his fame has more often been linked to his pop-star wife and the spectacle of his rock-concert style services, rather than for the substance of his sermons.
He is also known for his devotion to his wife of 23 years, who suffered two miscarriages before their first and only son Dayan was born in 2005. Dayan was named after Moshe Dayan, an Israeli military general and politician, whom Kong admired greatly.
It was not an easy birth. Ms Ho was bedridden for months, threw up everything she ate, and bled often. Friends close to the couple said Kong became especially protective of Ms Ho after the miscarriages plunged her into a deep depression, something she has spoken to the press about. He wanted to do everything he could to make her happy, and he was not alone in this. Ms Ho was a much-loved personality herself who sang in church often. Church members and employees idolised her. Many frequented her concerts and bought her albums several times over as a show of love and solidarity.
In 2003, this support came under intense media scrutiny when a church member Roland Poon charged that the church was essentially paying for Ms Ho’s music career, which was also part of an evangelical initiative called the Crossover Project to convert non-believers.
Mr Poon’s accusation was viewed widely by the church as an act of disloyalty, and even though he later retracted his statement, it did lead to some fundamental changes concerning the relationship between the church and Ms Ho’s career. Xtron was set up. A new, private “Multi-Purpose Account” was set up.
Members trusted by the inner circle were now invited to redirect their cash tithes discreetly to this account rather than through regular donor envelopes typically handed out during services. Others gave their donations as “love gifts” to church leaders, who then deposited the money into the private account. A source close to the couple told me Kong would fly to Los Angeles, where Ms Ho was based, with cash withdrawn from this private account to pay for their sprawling estate in Hollywood Hills, which had a monthly rental of $28,000, and staff including a nutritionist, fitness instructor, singing coach, and live-in nanny. This was later reported in several local newspapers.
Word spread of the couple’s lavish lifestyle and it seemed the pact between the church’s members and its support for the Crossover Project was starting to come loose.
Shortly after I met Kong Hee in 2009, I was sitting with one of my contacts when the name Roland Poon came up. In another meeting with a different contact a few months later, I was given an envelope that contained an email receipt of a donation to the Multi-Purpose Account. I was persuaded to look into this. Apparently, I was not the only person being tipped off because in May 2010, officers from the Commercial Affairs Department showed up unannounced at the church’s Suntec office at dawn and seized all of its computers and company records.
The six people including Kong were arrested two years later, in 2012, and here we are.
I haven’t met Kong Hee again since our fleeting introduction, and I doubt I ever will. But if I did, I would wish him well. And I pray he might live up to my initial impression of him. Not the God-fearing pastor, nor the doting husband and father, but a man who took chances, and quickly moved on with his life – whether the court now will say yes, or no, to his innocence.
http://themiddleground.sg/2015/09/15/two-faces-kong-hee/
THE first time I met Kong Hee was in 2009. I was brought to him backstage after a Christmas concert put up by the church and introduced to him as a reporter. We exchanged the usual pleasantries. After he heard I had studied in New York on a scholarship, he offered me a job. I declined. He was shuffled away by a bodyguard in a suit into his dressing room.
Our encounter was over in less than a minute. That was my first impression of him. Not the God-fearing pastor, nor the doting husband and father, but a man who took chances, and quickly moved on when told no.
Today is the last day of closing arguments for the trial. As Kong Hee’s lawyers gave their final oral submissions, the case against him that has lasted almost three years since his arrest in 2012 will renew speculation of his fate. Will he walk free, or go to jail? If convicted, he could face a lifetime behind bars. As a free man, he will face the rest of his life in infamy. Either way, life for him will never quite be the same.
Judging by the final submissions from both the defence and prosecution, the case seems to hang on Kong Hee the man, and whether his most trusted advisors have been able to say no to him.
Five other church leaders besides him have been accused of misusing some $50 million in church funds to finance his wife Sun Ho’s music career in the United States. But Kong Hee stands at the epicentre of the case not just because he is the church’s founder.
It is because as the founder, he is also its congregation’s spiritual father.
At the height of the church’s popularity in 2010, it had an average weekly attendance of more than 33,000 members who gave generously in time and money. When the church wanted to erect a bigger building, some members contemplated selling their homes to donate to the church’s Building Fund. This may be an extreme example but it was not unusual. Such was the devotion the man commanded.
I had spoken to Kong Hee for less than a minute, but I would go on to spend countless hours reading about him and hearing stories from church members and others in the Christian community who knew him personally. I often wondered if they were talking about the same person.
The judge must be wondering the same thing.
At the heart of Kong’s legal defence is that he did not know that his actions could be criminal. He had acted “in good faith”, with God in one ear and the advice of lawyers and auditors in the other. He was just following instructions.
The prosecution doesn’t buy it. Chief Prosecutor Mavis Chionh in her final submissions on Monday described Kong as a “well-practised liar” who knew exactly what he was doing. Even though it was Xtron Productions that managed Ms Ho’s career, its directors had acted only in accordance to Kong’s wishes, so the prosecution’s case goes.
Who’s right? The people I spoke with over the two years I reported on this story would probably say the charismatic leader was neither persona exclusively.
Former church leaders and members who have been disenchanted by his management style have used words like “puppeteer” and “God” to describe him. Although his was one of the largest congregations in Singapore, he preferred to keep close to him a handful of loyalists, known as his “inner circle”, which include some of the five people who sit at his table in court. If you are disloyal, you are “expunged” or “ex-communicated”. You lose access. Your funds are cut off. You’re no longer “family” – no matter what message is put through the official channels to the rest of the church.
Whether this is true or just talk from disgruntled members who have fallen out of his favour is anyone’s guess. Others I’ve spoken with say he is an able and involved leader. A visionary. Someone who cares about the big picture but also pays attention to details. A person who remembers the names of your children. Someone who takes time to pray with you and for you, even if he’s met you only once.
No matter which side of the fence you’re on, there are facts not in question. Kong Hee, 51, was a student at Raffles Institution and Raffles Junior College. He has a degree from NUS in Computer and Information Sciences. He also has several theological degrees, including a Master of Divinity and Doctorate in Theology from an American seminary. But to non-church goers, his fame has more often been linked to his pop-star wife and the spectacle of his rock-concert style services, rather than for the substance of his sermons.
He is also known for his devotion to his wife of 23 years, who suffered two miscarriages before their first and only son Dayan was born in 2005. Dayan was named after Moshe Dayan, an Israeli military general and politician, whom Kong admired greatly.
It was not an easy birth. Ms Ho was bedridden for months, threw up everything she ate, and bled often. Friends close to the couple said Kong became especially protective of Ms Ho after the miscarriages plunged her into a deep depression, something she has spoken to the press about. He wanted to do everything he could to make her happy, and he was not alone in this. Ms Ho was a much-loved personality herself who sang in church often. Church members and employees idolised her. Many frequented her concerts and bought her albums several times over as a show of love and solidarity.
In 2003, this support came under intense media scrutiny when a church member Roland Poon charged that the church was essentially paying for Ms Ho’s music career, which was also part of an evangelical initiative called the Crossover Project to convert non-believers.
Mr Poon’s accusation was viewed widely by the church as an act of disloyalty, and even though he later retracted his statement, it did lead to some fundamental changes concerning the relationship between the church and Ms Ho’s career. Xtron was set up. A new, private “Multi-Purpose Account” was set up.
Members trusted by the inner circle were now invited to redirect their cash tithes discreetly to this account rather than through regular donor envelopes typically handed out during services. Others gave their donations as “love gifts” to church leaders, who then deposited the money into the private account. A source close to the couple told me Kong would fly to Los Angeles, where Ms Ho was based, with cash withdrawn from this private account to pay for their sprawling estate in Hollywood Hills, which had a monthly rental of $28,000, and staff including a nutritionist, fitness instructor, singing coach, and live-in nanny. This was later reported in several local newspapers.
Word spread of the couple’s lavish lifestyle and it seemed the pact between the church’s members and its support for the Crossover Project was starting to come loose.
Shortly after I met Kong Hee in 2009, I was sitting with one of my contacts when the name Roland Poon came up. In another meeting with a different contact a few months later, I was given an envelope that contained an email receipt of a donation to the Multi-Purpose Account. I was persuaded to look into this. Apparently, I was not the only person being tipped off because in May 2010, officers from the Commercial Affairs Department showed up unannounced at the church’s Suntec office at dawn and seized all of its computers and company records.
The six people including Kong were arrested two years later, in 2012, and here we are.
I haven’t met Kong Hee again since our fleeting introduction, and I doubt I ever will. But if I did, I would wish him well. And I pray he might live up to my initial impression of him. Not the God-fearing pastor, nor the doting husband and father, but a man who took chances, and quickly moved on with his life – whether the court now will say yes, or no, to his innocence.
http://themiddleground.sg/2015/09/15/two-faces-kong-hee/
