Showing posts with label Forgiveness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Forgiveness. Show all posts

Thursday, 23 January 2020

Appeal to Bonhoeffer Conference - Help us face the reality of sin in society

A homily delivered to the International Bonhoeffer Congress at the Stellenbosch United Church on 19th January 2020

John 1: 29-34

May I speak in the name of God who is Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Amen.

Fellow students of the Gospel;
Sisters and brothers in Christ;

Good evening!  And to those who have travelled here from afar, welcome to our country!

It is a great honour for me to have been invited to speak at this 13th International Bonhoeffer Congress, hosted and organised here at Stellenbosch and the University of the Western Cape.

 Bonhoeffer statue at Westminster Abbey

Thursday, 14 August 2014

Archbishop's Charge to Diocesan Synod, Cape Town

The Archbishop’s Charge to the 64th session of the Synod of the Diocese or Cape Town, delivered at the Opening Eucharist at St Cyprian’s Church, Retreat on Thursday, 14 August 2014:

Who is the Church?

Discerning God’s holiness at work and for the living of these days in the everyday life of the saints

Ezekiel 12:1-16

Judah’s Captivity Portrayed

The word of the Lord came to me: 2 Mortal, you are living in the midst of a rebellious house, who have eyes to see but do not see, who have ears to hear but do not hear; 3 for they are a rebellious house. Therefore, mortal, prepare for yourself an exile’s baggage, and go into exile by day in their sight; you shall go like an exile from your place to another place in their sight. Perhaps they will understand, though they are a rebellious house. 4 You shall bring out your baggage by day in their sight, as baggage for exile; and you shall go out yourself at evening in their sight, as those do who go into exile. 5 Dig through the wall in their sight, and carry the baggage through it. 6 In their sight you shall lift the baggage on your shoulder, and carry it out in the dark; you shall cover your face, so that you may not see the land; for I have made you a sign for the house of Israel.
7 I did just as I was commanded. I brought out my baggage by day, as baggage for exile, and in the evening I dug through the wall with my own hands; I brought it out in the dark, carrying it on my shoulder in their sight.

8 In the morning the word of the Lord came to me: 9 Mortal, has not the house of Israel, the rebellious house, said to you, “What are you doing?” 10 Say to them, “Thus says the Lord God: This oracle concerns the prince in Jerusalem and all the house of Israel in it.” 11 Say, “I am a sign for you: as I have done, so shall it be done to them; they shall go into exile, into captivity.” 12 And the prince who is among them shall lift his baggage on his shoulder in the dark, and shall go out; he shall dig through the wall and carry it through; he shall cover his face, so that he may not see the land with his eyes. 13 I will spread my net over him, and he shall be caught in my snare; and I will bring him to Babylon, the land of the Chaldeans, yet he shall not see it; and he shall die there. 14 I will scatter to every wind all who are around him, his helpers and all his troops; and I will unsheathe the sword behind them. 15 And they shall know that I am the Lord, when I disperse them among the nations and scatter them through the countries. 16 But I will let a few of them escape from the sword, from famine and pestilence, so that they may tell of all their abominations among the nations where they go; then they shall know that I am the Lord.

Matthew 18:21-19:2 

Forgiveness

21 Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” 22 Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.

The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant

23 “For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. 24 When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; 25 and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. 26 So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ 27 And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. 28 But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ 29 Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ 30 But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. 31 When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. 32 Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. 33 Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ 34 And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. 35 So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

When Jesus had finished saying these things, he left Galilee and went to the region of Judea beyond the Jordan. 2 Large crowds followed him, and he cured them there.

May I speak in the name of God, Father and Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Dear members of the Diocese of Cape Town, dear sisters and brothers in Christ, dear friends, I greet you all in the name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and welcome you to the 64th Session of our Diocesan Synod. I extend a warm greeting to all our special guests, including Archbishop Brislin, my Roman Catholic colleague and friend; thank you for being with us. We also greet Prof Geoff Everingham, thanking God for his faithful service, for which it is our privilege to honour him today with the Order of St Simon of Cyrene. Welcome to your family too, Professor Everingham.

Let me also convey my greetings and acknowledgements, and my profound thanks to everyone who helps the Diocese and me with our ministry: to Lungi, and our two teenagers at home; to the staff at the Diocesan Office – especially to the team headed by Archdeacon Horace Arenz who ably organised this Synod; to the other teams – the synod advisory and small groups teams and the legislative team – who helped us prepare for it; to Bishop Garth and the Dean, for your friendship and support always; to Mr Francis Newham our Diocesan Registrar; to the Provincial staff, especially those in Rob Rogerson’s office; and to all my staff at Bishopscourt, Gail Allen and especially John Allen, who aids me in communications matters. 

My thanks also to Chapter and all the diocesan bodies, the Diocesan Standing Committee and all the ministry teams, our schools and homes, our chaplaincies, the warehouse and the media teams. Thanks to the heads and chaplains of our Anglican schools here present and the work they do for our country in education.

Congratulations too to our own Trevor Pearce and the team which supported him, especially from this Diocese, for hosting a successful Anglicans Ablaze conference last month. Archbishop Justin Welby, as he left for OR Tambo after his visit, told us: “This Anglicans Ablaze is a good ministry”. My challenge to you all now is to organise a diocesan “Ablaze” on liturgy and ministry, and on all forms of worship and teaching, both traditional as well as new forms of doing things the Anglican way.

I also want to extend a special thanks to clergy, their spouses and their families, for making this Diocese of Cape Town a Christian community that enables us and others to experience tangibly the redeeming love of God at work in us. I never cease to thank God for the privilege of being your archbishop and serving God with and through you. Thank you all for your prayers and support, for this very daunting but deeply rewarding vocation of witness, worship and service. We meet in the Month of Compassion, and I want to commend parishes for their continued efforts to observe this important ecumenical initiative every August, which it is so easy to overlook amid our busy parish activities. Just a few days ago I was reading about how St Stephen’s, Pinelands, has been organising “Hunger Suppers” at which participants eat simply then donate their savings to works of compassion. It is also of course Women’s Month in South Africa, and it is with great pleasure and pride that we congratulate the Revd Dr Vicentia Kgabe of Johannesburg on her appointment as the new Rector of the College of the Transfiguration from January next year. 

In this vocation, there is never a dull moment – and I will refer later to some of the frustrations of being an archbishop in this litigious age in which some lawyers appear ever too ready to encourage clergy and laity to ignore the injunction that Christians should not threaten to drag one another into the courts. But equally there are uplifting times, for example when I ask my intercessors’ group to focus their prayers on a particular matter, enabling me to get a better perspective on it, or getting feedback on bishops’ forums. There are exciting moments too – such when we raised our first one million rand for the Archbishop’s Theological Education Endowment Fund, or launched the e-Reader project – and encouraging moments such as I experience during Clergy Formation Week, at archdeaconry teas, or parish visits for confirmations, or when we license clergy, lay ministers or hold children’s parties at the end of the year.

Some of you know that I enjoy orchestral music, jazz, theatre and of course rugby too. I have in recent times enjoyed the Cape Philharmonic Orchestra, the KwaZulu-Natal Philharmonic conducted by Richard Cock, Maria Schneider’s jazz compositions at the National Arts Festival, visits to museums in Britain and the United States, the Tate in London and walks in botanical gardens and forest slopes in Aspen and Makgobaskloof. All these inspire me and give me the space and permission to imagine and sometimes to touch that which I imagine. 

Recently at a jazz performance I attended, a player had dropped his saxophone on his way to the venue and was anxious that it would not play well – but, heartwarmingly, the conductor affirmed him. He produced good music. Key to music at its most uplifting is that all play their part to the best of their abilities, celebrating their different gifts together in a way that brings harmony and joy to their listeners.

Over the next three days, we have been given verses from Matthew’s Gospel to ponder and reflect upon: from Matthew 18 and 19 tonight, in which we look at forgiveness; from Matthew 19:2-12 tomorrow, in which we will look at grounds for divorce and understanding sexuality in God’s law; and from Matthew 19:13-15, in which we look at protecting children and beyond that at the cost of discipleship. 

But before I look at Matthew, we might do well to ponder together, what is a Charge? Here I run the risk of being told, as my children do: Dad, get to the point! But the question is worth asking. Is a Charge about where we have been or come from? Or where we are now? Or where are we going and what is missing in our actions, and perhaps from our vision? I suggest that even if we don’t seek to address all of them explicitly, we need to keep all three in the back of our minds, but seek especially to focus on the third. Please see my reflections in this Charge as a work in progress, an unfolding story, just as our journey in faith is an unfolding story as we catch in a mirror dimly the riches of God’s grace.

So what is missing? Let’s first look at our vision. We are guided by our diocesan and provincial mission statements: in the Province we say we are– 

Anchored in the love of Christ, Committed to God’s mission and Transformed by the Holy Spirit (ACT); 

and in the Diocese we aspire– 

To be a community rooted in the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ, To bring God’s Healing with Joy and Compassion.

I want to assert that at the core of these aspirational statements, which we call vision, is the question: Who is the Church? – which is the theme I have given to my Charge this evening.  The Psalmist evokes for us a sense of the longing we experience to fulfill God’s aspirations for us – notably when he tells us that “By the rivers of Babylon – there we sat down and there we wept, when we remembered Zion... How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” and also in Psalm 39:12-13, “Hear my prayer, O Lord… do not hold your peace at my tears… that I may smile again, before I depart and am no more.” The Eucharist too, is about this holy longing, a vision of where we want to go and what is missing. Archdeacon Groepe in his circular about Synod to his archdeaconry representatives, writes, “Synod is a Pentecost event. We gather as the varied people from the Diocese to seek the mind of Christ, to hear, listen and act together on what God puts in our hearts and minds at this Pentecost.” Yes, as we are in the season of Pentecost, let us be reassured that there is no reason for excessive worry: we have been carried all the way by the Holy Spirit, and we will get where we are going through the work and power of the Holy Spirit. Of course that doesn’t mean we can afford to lounge around; in seeking to follow Jesus, we need actively to work to identify what it is that is missing.

You will recall that from Chapter 17, the Matthean Jesus, as he moves towards suffering, death and resurrection, spends a lot of time teaching or disciplining his core group of followers. With his imminent departure at hand, in Chapter 18 the succession debate raises its head, as well as questions of rank, status and position. If you want greatness in the kingdom of heaven, we learn, you must have childlike humility: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

We bandy this virtue around too easily, often expecting that the humble should be timid and allow us always to have our  way. When we admire our neighbour, saying, “Ain’t they humble,” we actually mean, “Ain’t it great that others are timid,” letting us get away with perceptions, stereotypes and sometimes unhelpful attitudes. In an attempt to answer the question I have posed, Who is the Church? I want to argue tonight that the church is called to be a community which is childlike in its exercise of radical and true humility. What might that true and radical humility entail for the saints in the living of these days?

True humility in the Christian community is displayed when we care less about power, status and wealth and become known for our redemptive actions and attitudes towards our brothers and sisters who have wronged. I spend a lot of time reading notices of court action in which, as Metropolitan, I am named as the first respondent. I am always challenged to the core of my being when I read these. My immediate response, the unmediated one, is to pull rank and deploy all the best canon lawyers, registrars and chancellors at my disposal to protect my rank and status from these wretched erring clerics or laity. And I suspect I am not the only one who struggles with this instinct – it probably happens to clergy who are challenged by laity, and to laity confronted by clergy. But then who is the Church, and what of the forgiveness we have read about today, and the humility I am advocating?

The Church is a Christian community whose vocation, amongst many, is to live and display the true humility which is seen in redemptive actions and attitudes to neighbour, to foe and to all of creation. The challenge we face is: As church, how should we live with the in-between – in the knowledge of the reality of incarnation on the one hand, and the certainty, in eschatological terms, of the end on the other. This tension is key to the redemptive attitudes and actions which should be at the core of being a Christian community. Like a coin, redemptive actions and attitudes – which I call true humility, childlike humility – have two critical sides to them: reconciliation and forgiveness. As I shared the implications of this with a small group that met with me to think aloud through this Charge, over and above the question I was posing, “Who is the church”, we came up with the sub-theme: “Discerning God’s holiness at work and for the living of these days in the everyday life of the saints”.

So what does humility in the Christian community involve? Let’s get away from the metaphor of a coin, especially as we seek to honour Matthew’s teaching on denouncing power, rank, status and wealth. I want instead to suggest that as Christians we replace the word “coin” with the word “heart” for our metaphor. So tonight and forthwith, I will talk about both sides of the heart instead of both sides of the coin; asserting that the heart, as opposed to Caesar’s symbol of power, the coin, is more biblical. Heart is the source and seat of life (“mpilo”) and true power. 

The one side of the heart of redemptive action is reconciliation. Matthew 18:15-22 paints a picture for us. It is the opposite of vengeance. It is a heart-rending process. You have to look at the erring nearest and dearest, the wrongdoer and allow them the opportunity to recount their mistakes and perhaps repent of them. Without going into details, I recently had to look at the colleague in the eye and listen to him tell me why he betrayed the confidentiality of one of the processes laid down by our canons, costing us thousands of rands in legal fees. I was deeply disappointed, fuming in fact and had the right to show him the door. Two of us sat with him for hours, listening to him tangle, then finally untangle himself, and come to a point of confessing and asking for forgiveness. You may want to call this indaba, as I have argued elsewhere in the Anglican Communion. Over the last couple of years, I have come to realise how litigious we have become as a society and of course as the church as well, wasting money that should be used for mission on lawyers. My call is that we should respond in accordance with this Matthean passage. If we don’t, Jesus says the consequences are dire in the here and now and at the end. At the provincial level, we have set up the Canon Law Council, whose task is to be Matthean in approach and remind us of “Who is the Church” when it comes to brothers and sisters who have erred. In the Diocese, we have set up a legislation committee as a result of our last Synod. 

Forgiveness as a redemptive action cannot be a legal matter only. So, within the Church and the wider world, we also promote redemptive attitudes and actions in many other ways, either unseen on a one-to-one basis or publicly in high profile initiatives. We do it, for example, when we hear confessions as clergy, intervene in Manenberg’s gangster conflicts, campaign against the scandalous peddling of drugs in poor communities, pursue initiatives in our social responsibility groups, share God’s love through our ministry to people living with HIV and Aids, show our concern for the environment, undertake walks of witness to where people are suffering, whether as a consequence of fires or flooding in Langa and other places, or forced evictions in Lwandle, and even when we arrange events to honour Nelson Mandela Day, or Madiba’s life when he died. The openness with which we challenge one another – whether across divides of gender, race, religion, culture, or in our Walk of Witness from District Six to Parliament on Holy Saturday – can also bear witness to the kind of redemptive actions by which we can pursue reconciliation with one another and with our difficult past.

At the heart of living redemptive attitudes and actions must be a special concern for the dispossessed. During the National Arts Festival in Grahamstown last month, I was asked to speak on housing and family life at the SpiritFest Winter School organised by the cathedral. It led to vigorous discussion, which confirmed my view that we as the Church need to take far more seriously the call to engage in reconciling acts that bridge the kind of inequality we see in our physical living conditions in South Africa. We all know only too well the broad outlines of the appalling conditions in which huge numbers of our people live, but some of the challenges are worth restating, again and again – not only here but in our pulpits, our Bible studies and our social responsibility groups.

Not only has our government in the democratic era inherited a legacy of very low rates of formal housing; society has been urbanising rapidly over the past 20 years. In 2004 already, the government noted that a fifth of people who lived in urban areas were first-generation residents and that this trend was set to continue. The backlogs in housing have generated overcrowding and squatter settlements, and led to land invasions in urban areas. Most of us who are in the middle classes become inured to the suffering involved in the way many people live, because the legacy of segregation has served, in the words of one expert, to “hide debilitating poverty.”

The desperate shortage of housing is of course but one of many challenges in our communities; another is the woeful lack of services in informal settlements. Poor sanitation and the failure to deliver safe water in under-developed communities is a stubbornly persistent problem, not only in Cape Town but across the country. We have heard more than enough about open toilets in the Western Cape and the Free State – some people call me “the toilet archbishop” because of my concern over water and sanitation. In some parts, we still have a bucket system of removing sewage. Not too long ago a school child died after falling into an open latrine in Limpopo. And we can’t even always maintain the infrastructure we do have, as shown when people in Bloemhof died from contaminated water. 

As I said in Grahamstown, our failure as a society – and I would add here, as the Church – our failure to get to grips with these challenges is a failure to address ourselves to upholding basic human dignity. I am no fan of the tactics of some activists and politicians in Cape Town in drawing attention to these problems, but we cannot deny that in one sense the excesses of Cape Town’s toilet wars have been a good thing: they have woken us up to the reality of how our brothers and sisters live. John tells us that the truth will set us free: well, we know that reconciliation which tries to gloss over the effects of past inequality is but avoidance and untruth – it is not reconciliation at all. If Christian communities are not up to facing this challenge, then who will? 

Nor should we limit our ambitions to speak out and act where we can to issues of housing and sanitation. We have seen in the platinum miners’ strike how some of our fellow citizens feel so squeezed and so desperate that they have to resort to actions that can bring the economy to its knees. Their plight is but one example – seen closer to home in the conditions facing seasonal workers on farms – of how we have come to be one of the countries in the world where the gap between rich and poor is highest. Yet many of us spend more time bemoaning how the strike has caused ratings agencies to downgrade us as an investment destination than analyse how this shocking inequality has come about. And we have seen recently that concern about the environment – so well reflected in our Diocese – is not simply a concern of the wealthy, but that it is the poor and the un-empowered who are often most vulnerable to the effects of climate change and the contamination of our natural resources. 

William Edgar Stafford, an American poet, in a poem A Ritual to Read to Each Other, ends by saying, and I quote:

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give - yes or no, or maybe -
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep. 

Put differently, how can we make a contribution to addressing these challenges which is distinctively Christian, reflecting our faith in Jesus? Well, we could start by practising the same openness and transparency that I demanded of President Zuma on our Holy Saturday Walk of Witness. The moral pollution I spoke of then, the collapse of values and standards which infects parts of our government, is not confined to government. The absence of transparency which generates a lack of trust is also seen outside government too. When I addressed President Zuma, I was also addressing all South Africans, including ourselves. 

And the questions which I put to Mr Zuma can be adapted for all of us: 
  • Are we willing to explain to our constituencies how we make decisions involving our common welfare?
  • In our public lives, which constitutional values do we use in reaching those decisions?
  • How do we plan to respond to the historic levels of distrust that permeate our society?
  • What is our plan for holding conversations about our values, so that we can make our decisions in good conscience?

I am calling for a Renaissance of Trust in our society. Trust is the cornerstone of reconciliation. Redemptive actions build trust in God, in each other and help us to forge a common destiny as a Christian community in South Africa. If we don’t ask these questions, build trust and teach our parishioners to speak out truthfully to power, we are planting the seeds not of reconciliation but of destruction, and we will reap what we have planted. 

The other side of the heart of redemptive action is forgiveness. We can move forward here if we repent and reconcile, not to immobilise the Christian community, but to pierce the smelly, festering wound that no one wants to face because it may spoil our artificial context, and so to heal ourselves and move forward. Forgiveness means that we don’t hold grudges. We don’t hoard ill feelings. We forgive without measure. The story we heard in tonight’s Gospel has this at its core. The consequences of not forgiving are dire – dire for individuals, families, children and communities. Forgiving someone 70 times seven – a total of 490 times – is a radical expression of humility in a Christian community, a redemptive action and attitude required of us.

When I was a newly-consecrated suffragan bishop, my diocesan, Bishop David Russell, quoted our archbishop emeritus, Desmond Tutu, so powerfully that it has remained with me ever since. We had gone to the place of King Sandile of the amaRarabe to offer an apology for how the British had treated him in the 19th century, holding him on Robben Island and forcibly sending his children to Cape Town – first to Bishopscourt and then to Zonnebloem College – to be educated in Western ways. How do you say, “Sorry, please forgive me,” when you have forced your will on a people in this way; when you have rewritten their place in history and made them poor and uneducated in the country of their birth? Bishop David told the story of the bicycle: of how you can’t steal someone’s bicycle, then ride it to the person’s home, say forgive me for stealing it, and then ride it back home. You have to give the bicycle back first, and then ask for forgiveness for stealing it. Showing redemptive attitudes and taking redemptive action as in the Matthean examples involve the equivalent of returning the bicycle. They heal both the wronged and the wrongdoer. They create a space for indaba, for humble listening, for two hearts to hear the same pulse, for one to get to know the other’s story, and for the two to take the walk to Emmaus together, leading to the full realisation of Jesus’ power to heal the divisions we have created. We are humble or we show humility as a Christian community when we live and enact these redemptive virtues.

The importance of this focus on redemption is shown in our first reading tonight, from Ezekiel. We need to be careful to avoid being like the prince and the people in the passage we have heard, who fail to get with the plot. They fail to understand God’s servant, Ezekiel, as he signals the pre-exilic signs, the discord and disharmony that are about to befall the people of God. My dream and longing for God’s church and people is never to miss the Ezekiel signs of our disconnectedness from God, from our neighbours and ourselves but to be ministers of reconciliation and forgiveness. This is who the church is called to be in our times.

However, if we are serious in exploring and implementing what it means to live out redemptive attitudes and actions, we can live in confident hope for the future. But just as I said earlier that we cannot lounge around waiting for the Holy Spirit to act, we must talk about hope with caution. Denise Ackermann says that hope is a lived reality in the life of faith, here and now; that its means never surrendering our power to imagine a better world – but also that hope is not magic; it confronts wrong and the abuse of power and it is risky and requires patience and endurance. 

From what do we derive our hope and confidence in pursuing reconciliation and forgiveness, and why do we do this? In the segments that we will read over the next two days, the answer is: for the common good. Because, as a Christian community, we have commitments and a responsibility to one another other and to Christ. We seek the flourishing of all and of ourselves in the here and now and the hereafter. 

At this moment in human history, pursuing climate justice has become one of the ways in which we are called to exercise our responsibility to one another and to Christ. Next year, God willing, a number of bishops from dioceses around the world which are already experiencing the impacts of climate change will come to Cape Town to help develop a global strategic plan on the environment, as part of a Communion-wide effort which has been dubbed the "eco-bishops initiative". And I commend for debate in the coming days the resolution on encouraging our people to become “eco-congregations”. These initiatives demonstrate, as a joint Lutheran/Anglican statement has said, and I quote, that 

“As Christians, we do not live in the despair and melancholy of the tomb, but in the light of the Risen Christ. Our resurrection hope is grounded in the promise of renewal and restoration for all of God’s Creation, which gives us energy, strength and perseverance in the face of overwhelming challenge. For us, this promise is more than an abstraction. It is a challenge to commit ourselves to walk a different course and serve as the hands of God in working to heal the brokenness of our hurting world.” - Joint statement of the Episcopal Church, the Church of Sweden, and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, May 2013

The flourishing we desire is for everyone, not only South Africans, so we should also give attention to situations beyond our borders. Pray for justice, reconciliation and the peace that will flow from those everywhere. Pray for the girls kidnapped in northern Nigeria, and for the victims and families of those killed in the almost daily attacks ravaging that country. Surround and lift up the people of Palestine, including Gaza, and Israel, in prayer. What we have seen on our television screens during the Israeli bombardment of Gaza is deplorable and deeply shocking; just as shocking is the fact that similar indiscriminate killing of men, women and children in Nigeria continues month after month with a fraction of the outrage expressed over the conflict in the Middle East. We might ask: Why does the United States not erupt in outrage over what is happening in Gaza? And why do Africa and the world not erupt in outrage at the slaughter in Nigeria?

Many articles and books have been devoted this year to the lessons of World War I. Margaret MacMillan, a Canadian historian who is now the warden of St Antony’s College, Oxford, has written that the war still haunts us 100 years after it began partly because of the scale of the slaughter – 10 million combatants and countless millions of civilians died – but also because experts cannot agree on how it happened, and therefore on how to avoid such a catastrophe in the future. Pointing to how our great-grandfathers miscalculated the significance of changes in the nature of warfare, she gives us this sobering warning: “A comparable mistake in our own time is the assumption that because of our advanced technology, we can deliver quick, focused and overpowering military actions – the ‘surgical strikes’ with drones and cruise missiles, ‘shock and awe’ by carpet bombing and armored divisions – resulting in conflicts that will be short and limited in their impact, and victories that will be decisive.” Far from seeing easy victories, she adds, we are seeing wars with no clear outcomes, in which well-armed forces fight what she describes as “a shifting coalition of local warlords, religious warriors and other interested parties” across countries and continents.

In this context, Who is the Church? Let us go back to the parable of the unforgiving steward: as the followers of Jesus, we can avoid being too quick to judge others and their motives, we can have mercy on those who have wronged us, and we can forgive our sisters and brothers from our hearts. As Robert Kennedy said at the University of Cape Town in 1968, few of us will, in his words, “have the greatness to bend history; but each of us can work to change a small portion of the events, and in the total of all these acts will be written the history of this generation…” We too can contribute to what he called the “numberless diverse acts of courage” which shape the history of humankind. 

We will be judged by how we contributed to making this a forgiving and reconciled world: by whether, when we saw war, we tried to stop it; by whether, when we saw wrong, we tried to right it; and by whether, when we saw need and suffering, we tried to bring healing. And succeeding is not as important as acting: As Madiba put it, “Do not judge me by my successes, judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again.”

Let me end with a confirmation blessing that I regularly use, but slightly rephrased as follows: 

“Go into the broken and unreconciled world as the Christian community, sow the seeds of reconciliation and repentance so that you may in joy reap the fruits of forgiveness and fulfillment. 

“For Christ’s sake, Amen.”

















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Sunday, 12 May 2013

Sunday Independent Opinion Columns

This opinion piece was printed in the Sunday Independent on 12 May 2013. Below it are some earlier columns.

Revolution we need starts with you

May 12 2013, By Thabo Makgoba.

Are politicians or preachers, those of us who speak or write in public, aware that our words may one day come back to bite us? This happened to me after I returned last month from looking at school infrastructure in the Eastern Cape. Our group of academics, writers, human rights experts and others found atrocious conditions in many places, as had been widely reported. But then a friend challenged me. “Why so many bad news stories, Archbishop? Haven’t we had enough of falling down schools and stinking toilets? You always remind us that dwelling on negativity pulls us down, and that we need to keep focused on the positive vision of what South Africa can become.”

She is right, but she is also wrong. Too much bad news truly can be bad for us. It can breed what social commentators call “learned helplessness”. When we are bombarded with news of situations far removed from us, or where we have no capacity to be engaged, we easily become overwhelmed. We start to feel powerless about everything, even where we could make a difference.

But the answer can never be to close our eyes to bad news. We need to see it, just in its right perspective. While focusing on our vision for our country, as the touchstone for policy making and implementation, we must also be aware of what is holding us back. We need honesty about our problems, and my friend is not alone in finding this uncomfortable, even painful.

Her reality is very different from the Eastern Cape’s mud schools. She grew up with a good education, as one of the privileged in the old South Africa. She still enjoys a comfortable life far removed from the stranglehold that poverty has on the great majority. Yet she gives to her church and to NGOs to help alleviate poverty’s grip, pays her cleaner a decent wage, and would do “more” if only she knew how to make a difference. But she is at a loss to know what would be effective. So she feels helpless and guilty, and doesn’t enjoy it when TV and newspapers keep reminding her of this other reality.

Some of us have managed to exchange that stark reality for one more like my friend’s. We may have grown up in deprivation, but we are determined our children will know a different life. And we also may find it easier to keep our distance from what we have left not so far behind. But this will not bring socio-economic freedom for all, to match our political freedom. The struggle must continue for equal opportunity and a decent standard of living for everyone.

We need to bridge the gap between the two realities. And we need to do so at a human level, if we are to do so at an economic level. We need to dare to be literally “in touch” with poverty, for ourselves – to go there and see, and smell, and taste, and touch the bad news stories that are the stuff of others’ daily lives. We cannot be like the past, where it was possible for some people to say they didn’t know how others lived. We must refuse to live at such cold distance from one another, and instead harness human empathy to give us the urgency to press for tangible change.

Choose not to be overwhelmed. Choose a particular focus. One I’ve chosen is education. I’m acting individually, through my church, and supporting a national campaign.

A group of us who grew up in Alexandra are helping to rebuild Pholosho School and funding bursaries. The Anglican Church has long supported the Vuleka initiative, and our next project is building a boys’ boarding school in Gauteng. Nationally, I’m adding my voice to the call for decent school buildings and facilities. This was the motivation behind the Eastern Cape visit. Though we encountered heroic efforts by teachers and pupils, we were also appalled by much of what we saw. We will not let it rest, but will keep up the dialogue, keep up the pressure.

And the good news is that it works. Within days of our visit, the government issued a statement saying the president had directed the Department of Performance Monitoring and Evaluation in the Presidency to look into the matter and let him know what was being done to address the problems of sanitation in three schools we’d seen. So I encourage you not to be afraid to write letters to the president, to ministers, to MPs, to MECs, and to newspapers. Phone radio stations. Blog. Post on Facebook. Tweet. Demand that Minister of Basic Education Angie Motshekga issues proper, decent, minimum infrastructure norms and standards. Let us bombard her with letters, pleas, prayers, even poems. Speak out when what you see is unacceptable to you and your children. You are taxpayers. It is your money being squandered. Hold the government to account. Demand urgent action.

The SA Democratic Teachers Union must also be held to account. Where it promotes better education, we support it. Where it puts its members’ narrowly defined interests above those of our children (inevitably affecting those already most deprived) and our legitimate education goals, or promotes unhealthy politicisation, or prioritises financial issues, we will demand better. We cannot allow past fears to dictate our future by holding us back. They may explain our unwillingness to get involved today, but they cannot justify it.

Festering wounds need to be opened up and exposed to the light, so they can be dressed – and addressed – and healed. We all have to take a stand. If we do not, our inactivity becomes complicity. Then we all become party not only to the continuance of mud schools without toilets, but also the passage of the still fatally flawed secrecy bill, and the ethical mess of which the Gupta wedding saga is just the tip of the iceberg.

Reject helplessness. Choose hopefulness. And be encouraged – you will make a difference.

http://www.iol.co.za/sundayindependent/revolution-we-need-starts-with-you-1.1514378

From 28 April 2013

Deeds, not words, are what count

We have much to celebrate, and should never underestimate the miracle that was our peaceful transition from apartheid to democracy, made possible by the courageous, visionary initiatives of a remarkable few, and by the dignified act of marking ballot papers by the determined many. We continue to thank God that this, and not civil war or bloodbath, became the fate we dared to dream and work for. Since then, we have seen 19 years of changes that were unimaginable when I was young, through the slow but steady progress towards restoring the dignity that apartheid sought to remove from so many. Through three subsequent national elections we have furthered our commitment to democracy in the service of all. We do not have to look far beyond our borders to recognise that peaceful ballots cannot be taken for granted.

Yet, as we are all too aware, we still have a long way to go. And no matter which way politicians and pundits spin it, the legacy of apartheid and the track record of the ANC have some part to play in the continuing failures adequately to overcome poverty in all its manifestations. So we certainly do need “mobilisation towards consolidating democracy and freedom”.

Above all, this means getting our foundations right: our conceptual foundations and attending to the fundamental basics of tackling our greatest needs. Conceptually, we need to remind ourselves of what we aspire to, of the covenant we made to one another and to our nation as a whole, when we chose the path of democracy. We signed up to build a country based on sound ethical principles, good governance, and all that goes with them. Without these, we have no hope of being, and more fully becoming, the nation we like to think we are – the nation to which others around the world look as a model for solving conflict, building bridges and relishing the riches our diversity brings.

Yes, this is the vision that lives in our hearts still, today. We should know this, and therefore take heart, whenever we are tempted to disillusionment or despair by all the bad news stories of corruption and failure – for our frustrations are fuelled by our deep inner convictions that we should do better, and our strong beliefs that indeed we can.

Two particular areas where we can and should do better are housing and education. We have always known we need to get these right, if we are to create a society of true opportunity for all. And we also know that both are vulnerable to poor governance and absent ethics, which allow for tender fraud and corruption and failure to deliver on promises: with shoddy work, collapsing buildings, textbooks not supplied and general failure of service delivery manifested in widespread ways. Almost never do we hear of anyone being brought to book. Such scams are doubly shameful, for they most hurt those in greatest need, and draw them into heartbreaking deceptions.

We have all seen those who have waited long years for housing shed grateful tears when finally given the key to a place of their own – only to find that a few years later, their leaking, cracking home is fit for little more than demolition. Too often irresponsible contractors close old companies to avoid the consequences of one lot of shoddy work, while simultaneously opening new ones to bid in the next round of juicy tenders. As we know, sometimes government officials participate in these debacles, even fraudulently “selling” building land to the innocent and unsuspecting. It is outrageous.

And then there is schooling – and here I am not even going to address the processes of learning, but the contexts in which it happens. Not only are there similar problems to the housing sector when it comes to building and upgrading schools. There is also the far more fundamental problem of failing to bring all schools up to anything like an acceptable standard in the first place. Presidents, ministers and MECs have long been promising a swift end to mud schools and studying under trees, by deadlines that have come and gone. Both persist, in considerable numbers.

Finally, forced by court action, we now have the Accelerated Schools Infrastructure Delivery Initiative. We have also seen the publication of new draft Minimum Uniform Norms and Standards for Public School Infrastructure. These, however, are a great disappointment, in their broad generalisations and failure to give specific, measurable criteria to which the government can be held accountable. They are even weaker than the 2008 draft, which contained greater detail, tangible goals and clear time frames. They are an unacceptable step backwards.

A few days ago I embarked on a ‘Solidarity Visit’ of several days to the Eastern Cape, to witness first-hand the extent of the school infrastructure crisis there. As we suspected the picture we found was rather worse than that which government is attempting to paint. How can we justify a situation where over 100 grade 9 children share a classroom in near sub human conditions? This is something that personally devasted and saddened me. It is more hurting to see such levels of inequality and poor material conditions of the poorest of the poor.

And here we face another ethical conundrum. For if the government is serious about wanting to “mobilise society towards consolidating democracy and freedom”, then they need our partnership. This means they need our trust and our confidence. Yet nothing undermines trust as successfully as failing to be honest about the true situation, and refusing to take the citizens of the country into their confidence. And little undercuts confidence as surely as the production of revised policies that actually move us backwards rather than forwards.

It is well known that the future of a country depends, more than almost anything else, upon the quality of its education. Where our children do not even have adequate schools within which to pursue education, we are already putting them – and, in consequence, the whole country – on the back foot. So another Freedom Day has come and gone. We say to the government, we are ready to be mobilised, but we need you to demonstrate that you, too, are truly committed to the vision of a country founded on ethical principles.

http://www.iol.co.za/news/politics/deeds-not-words-are-what-count-1.1507373

From 14 April 2013

Why Tutu deserves the ‘Nobel of Religions’

Once again, that most irrepressible of South African pensioners, Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu, is in the news. This time, he has won the Templeton Prize, awarded to “a living person who has made an exceptional contribution to affirming life’s spiritual dimension”. It is given for his “life-long work in advancing spiritual principles such as love and forgiveness which has helped to liberate people around the world”.

Though sometimes known as the “religious Nobel”, intriguingly the Templeton Prize is linked to no particular faith or view of God. Furthermore, alongside such usual suspects as Mother Theresa and the Dalai Lama, winners also include philosophers, astrophysicists, biologists and other scientists, some of whom are not people of faith in the everyday sense of the word. But that hasn’t bothered the Templeton Foundation, set up in 1972. Its founder, British-American investor and philanthropist John Templeton, who died in 2008, launched the prize to identify “entrepreneurs of the spirit” who help “expand our vision of human purpose and ultimate reality”.

Rightly, they see no inevitable conflict between science and religion. Better understanding about the origins and functioning of life, and what it means to be human, can only help us do better in tackling questions of morality, ethics and meaning in today’s complex world. Hand in hand, the best of science and of religion offer invaluable resources for seeing clearly the issues that are at stake, and tackling them wisely and constructively. Neither can do this as well alone, and neither should be fearful of the other. Both are in pursuit of truth.

This complementarity blows a hole in the old philosophical adage that “you can’t get an ‘ought’ from an ‘is’.” It is surely evident that, knowing that poverty is destructive of flourishing life in individuals and communities, inescapably means we ought to do away with it. Justice clearly is a foundation-stone of stable, healthy society and governance, and therefore ought to be pursued. So, too, is honesty and so on. Whichever way you look at it, justice, good governance, fighting poverty and corruption, are what science and religion alike demand of government, politicians and civil servants. It is what makes sense from whatever angle you care to look at it. Therefore we should have no qualms about demanding the highest standards, the most wholehearted commitment and true accountability, from our political leaders.

The Arch is not the first South African Templeton Prize winner. That honour went to UCT Professor of Cosmology, George Ellis, honoured in 2004 for a lifetime’s work that embraces not only the origins of the universe but also the human brain and behaviour, and the relationship between science and religion. A Quaker and activist, his social writings were condemned by the apartheid government. Like Tutu, he has spoken and written about the over-riding need for humanity to live with faith, hope and love – even loving your enemies.

Questions around loving our enemies and the power of forgiveness have been in my mind for other reasons this week, which has seen the death of Margaret Thatcher, the anniversary of Chris Hani’s assassination and news that Clive Derby-Lewis has again been denied parole. No one can deny that Britain’s first woman prime minister was a remarkable individual. But that is about as far as agreement seems to go – 20 years after she left power, she still divides opinions. In South Africa, she is mostly remembered for calling the ANC a “typical terrorist organisation” and opposing sanctions, though others have described her as a positive influence on constitutional transformation.

Stirring up strong emotions is one thing, but I was shocked to hear of parties organised to celebrate her death – and was glad these were condemned even by her strongest political opponents. It’s not that we must uncritically “love” all that Thatcher was and did. But it helps no-one if we dehumanise those with whom we disagree. The Arch has often told us that we must not reduce others to “monsters”, however awful their actions: first, because it actually makes them less responsible for their actions, and second, because it denies the possibility of redemptive hope. Accepting that redemptive hope exists everywhere enables us to deal with life honestly, maturely, constructively, and rationally – in the best and fullest sense of this word, as the Templeton Prize supports.

For we can step back and look at Margaret Thatcher and admire her drive and determination, even if we think it was often wrongly directed. We can admire her achievements as the first woman to hold such high office. Then we can take what we admire, and build on it: daring to think big and be bold, and pressing towards greater gender equality. We can also analyse rationally what we oppose, and why, so that we can draw both useful lessons and the energy to do better.

These are lessons for South Africa, too, as we continue to recall the past, whether through specific anniversaries or the daily legacy of history upon us. Polarisation – painting people as wholly right or wholly evil – undermines our ability to engage constructively and go forward creatively. We need a similarly nuanced approach to political parties and policies, as well as personalities: affirming the positive; learning from and working to overcome the negative. None of us is perfect, and others always need to look on us with a level, honest gaze, free of fear. Then we can see what is good and pursue it further. We can learn from what went wrong, and work for better. And we can identify what can now be let go, set to one side and left in the past so that it does not hold us back.

Chris Hani’s death remains a tragedy, but it must not hold us back from a better future. The best of what he offered to us can still live on, if we heed his words. Just a couple of weeks before he died, in calling for a comprehensive, just peace, he warned against corruption and the greed of the gravy train. “What we need in South Africa is for egos to be suppressed in favour of peace. We need to create a new breed of South Africans who love their country and love everybody, irrespective of their colour.” These words are as apt today as they ever were.

And what of Derby-Lewis? I do not know what is in his mind and heart. But I do know that Tutu and the TRC taught us that reconciliation only comes with truth. It requires the scientific truth of full honesty around the facts, and the spiritual truth of recognising the human cost of actions and so knowing true remorse. Such truth can indeed set us free.

This is a personal lesson, too. For myself, I know that when I honestly acknowledge what scars I carry from the past – the harrowing facts around them, the painful emotions they stir up, the wounds they have left on my soul – then I, too, know that I am taking the first steps towards a freer future.

Come, walk with me on this journey of hope.

http://www.iol.co.za/news/politics/why-tutu-deserves-the-nobel-of-religions-1.1499912

From 31 March 2013


Spread seeds of hope and dignity

As Christians celebrate Easter, the casual observer would be forgiven for asking how on earth we can declare God’s victory over sin and death when there is so much suffering and destruction all around. Let’s face it. The first three months of this year read like a violent horror story. Details of events at Marikana unfold in drawn-out agony at the Farlam Commission of Inquiry. More recent incidents of police brutality, like the death of the Mozambican taxi driver, Mido Macia, have left us, and observers round the world, reeling with shock.

There was, for a while, outrage at the brutal rape and murder of teenager Anene Booysen in Bredasdorp, and the so-called satanic killing of schoolgirl Keamogetswe Sefularo in Mohlakeng. But attacks keep occurring, and often go unreported as we have become numbed to their frequency. How has such violence, including rape and sexual assault, become part of the fabric of our lives? How can we move from expressing anger and indignation, in marches and vigils, to deeper conversations about social cohesion, and take the necessary steps to rebuild society on the basis of true humanity – rooted in the dignity of being made in the image of God, of being ubuntu people, whose identities are shaped through belonging to one another?

We have been suffering from a wider loss of confidence, affecting everything from our public broadcaster to our national carrier. And this is not just a domestic question. Last weekend, rebel forces in the Central African Republic (CAR) left 13 of our soldiers dead and 27 injured. We are now embroiled in conflict in a place that was previously little more than a sound bite or a football team.

Lent, the six-week period from Ash Wednesday to Easter, invites us to look at ourselves with an honest eye. We need to recognise that too often our world is a mess. But our response should not be to despair. Two Christian leaders who arrived on the global stage this month show us a better, more hopeful, way, of tackling challenges. The media have been fascinated by the new pope, who, as Archbishop of Buenos Aires, lived in a small flat, cooked his own meals and took public transport. He is the first pope to choose the name of Francis, after Francis of Assisi, renowned for his simple life-style and care for the poor. Since becoming head of the world’s 1.2 billion Catholics, he has made his priorities clear – whether in sitting on a plain white chair, instead of a golden throne on a scarlet platform, or in preaching that we should all be “discreet, humble, faithful protectors’ of God’s creation and all people”. True leadership is to care for those who need it most.

Last week I was in England, for the enthronement of a new Archbishop of Canterbury, the symbolic head of the worldwide Anglican Communion. Justin Welby is another fascinating character, who gave up a successful career in the oil and finance sectors, to become a priest. He has since been involved in conflict resolution around the world, and on more than one occasion came within a whisker of being murdered.

Lasting, just peace and reconciliation are in short supply, as we can see in the CAR, and in frequent unrest between Sudan and South Sudan. We see it especially in Syria. This week I added my voice to calls on the leaders of the Brics nations (Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa), meeting in Durban, to press Syrian President Bashar al-Assad to allow the UN to bring humanitarian aid into his country. The tragedy is that when the Brics leaders met a year ago, they called for “an immediate end to all violence and violations of human rights in that country”, but their call went unheeded. Since then, the death toll has risen from about 9 000 to over 70 000. Today there are 4 million people in urgent need of aid, half of them children.

In our letter to our leaders, political and civil society figures from Brics countries wrote: “The people of Syria are living a nightmare of death, injury, illegal detention, rape, torture and displacement. Schools and hospitals have been targeted, children as young as eight have been used as human shields, and one in every three Syrian children has been injured or shot at… “Extensive food aid distribution and shelter are urgently needed… the basic humanitarian needs of millions of Syrians are not being met.”

Achieving lasting, just peace and reconciliation – whether of military conflict and civil war, or violence across society – requires risk-taking, perseverance and selfless commitment, especially from our leaders. This, in a nutshell, is the message of Lent and Easter. Jesus faced the full horrors of suffering and death head-on, in order to bring resurrection and life. They cannot be ignored or brushed aside, since they only fester and worsen. The enormity of injustices, past wrongs, woundedness, oppression and discrimination, have to be brought into the open and acknowledged in honest dialogue, no matter how painful, if we are to sow the seeds of hope that bring new life.

In South Africa we discovered the truth of this, in our transition to democracy, even if there is still unfinished business to be tackled. We must not lose sight of this vision, which gave us such courage, such hope, to begin building a great nation anew. Nor must we forget the other lesson that came with it – that in recognising the inherent dignity of each and every human person. We cannot afford the luxury of losing hope, because then we will pay the price of continuing downward spirals. But the good news of Easter is that the seed of hope is always there, ready for us to nurture, if we only take courage, take the risk, and persevere. I wish you all a blessed Easter.

http://www.iol.co.za/sundayindependent/spread-seeds-of-hope-and-dignity-1.1493855


Monday, 27 February 2012

Lenten Reflection - The 'Good News' about Sin

This reflection draws on recent sermons at St George’s Cathedral, Cape Town, and Christ the King, Sophiatown.

‘Turn away from sin, and believe the good news.’ These are the words with which each of us are anointed with ash at the beginning of Lent, and they tell us that sin and good news go hand in hand. You don’t get one without the other.

Sin is of course a very unfashionable word in contemporary society, but there is no escaping it. More importantly, we must not deny its reality, for we cannot have God’s good news if we do not acknowledge our involvement in sin. In other words, if we are better to appreciate, and receive, the fullness of God’s good news – the gospel of salvation and redemption – we, and our world, need a better grasp and fuller acknowledgement of sin, in every area of life.

This means we need to be honest about our shortcomings, weaknesses and failings; about our mistakes and misjudgements; about our bad attitudes, inappropriate thoughts, ill-chosen words and wrong actions – and not just in the personal, domestic, sphere, but also in public arena. Alongside politics at every level (national to local, elected to official), this also means in business and professional life, in academia, in the media, across civil society, even within the communities where we live, and among whom we network and socialise.

The aim of bringing sin into the light is not to put ourselves or others under condemnation, but rather, to open up ourselves, our church, society and world, to the glorious opportunities for God’s salvation and redemption in every area of human life and activity. And let’s be honest: we certainly need God’s rescue and recovery in so much of society! Yet if we do not acknowledge sin, how can we receive God’s more than wonderful solution to sin?

But admitting guilt, and feeling shame, appear increasingly alien in today’s societies. Sometimes it seems the only sin is being caught. Short of a criminal conviction, we are asked to believe, and act as if, everyone is more innocent than the proverbial dove. And no matter how dubious a person’s reputation, or how dodgy their track record, if that person’s suitability for some task or role is questioned, then it seems that the questioner is the one branded as being in the wrong. Further, when apologies are issued, too often they are given, in terms not of an admission of wrong doing, but rather of regret that someone was offended. It is as if the offended person is being blamed for being too soft-skinned!

Why have we got ourselves into this position?

It seems to me that the main cause is as much about failing to understand salvation, as it is about failing to understand sin. For if there is no hope of salvation – no hope of forgiveness or redemption, no hope of God wiping the slate clean of guilt and shame, and providing an opportunity to make a fresh start – then no wonder we don’t want to admit to being in the wrong. We see it in little children: ‘Did you eat the chocolate cake?’ we say. ‘No Daddy’ replies the small child, even when caught with a face smeared with icing! As adults, we are little better – though we may be far more skilled at constructing (or having our spokespeople construct for us) sophisticated excuses about how we really weren’t at all responsible, and should not be considered as having failed in any way, or as bearing any sort of guilt in the matter!

But if no one is guilty of anything; if no one has failed, or fallen short, or let anyone down – then how can we go forward? How can we speak of righting wrongs, of addressing shortcomings, of doing better? It is a recipe for accepting mediocrity and failure – and this is a disaster for our societies, for our nations; a disaster for all hope of moral and ethical living.

But, thanks be to God, we have a remedy! For God too does not want us to be left standing under condemnation. Therefore, as we well know, God sent ‘his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life’ (Jn 3:16). And the next verse further underlines for us – should we have any lingering doubts – that God is far, far, more interested in liberating us from the quagmire of our weaknesses and failings, than he is in pronouncing us guilty. It reads ‘Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.’

And so, now we live in a world where Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, has taken away the sins of the world (cf Jn 1:29); where he himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness (1 Pet 2:24). We live in a world where forgiveness is freely offered for true repentance and readiness to make amends.

Even more than this, the God of infinite love promises to redeem all that has gone awry; to rescue what is lost; to heal every hurt; to mend the broken; to cleanse what is marred; to overturn evil and bring good out of every situation and circumstance: all of this, and more besides, provided we turn to him, acknowledge our failings and our dependency upon him, and put ourselves into his hands.

So then, what is the particular lesson for us this Ash Wednesday, this Lent?

It is this: that we must be gospel people, good news people, in declaring through the way we speak and act and live our lives that God forgives the sins of all who turn away from sin, and turn to him. We must demonstrate that we are not afraid of sin – not afraid to admit we are ‘only human’: that we are less than perfect, that we often fail, that we get things wrong, that we make mistakes, and even that we sometimes intentionally choose wrong over right. And in declaring we are not afraid of sin, we also declare – even more loudly and clearly – that the God of love desires to deal with sin: not through condemnation, but through salvation and redemption; through rescuing and restoring; through his infinite love and compassion for his needy children and his needy world.

This is what we need to hear, throughout the whole of human society – private and public. It is especially what our leaders need to hear, in every walk of society and nation. They need to know that the ultimate good news only comes to human beings when we acknowledge the reality of what it is to be ‘only human’ – and this is something of which we do not need to be afraid. For to admit our failings is not the worst thing that can happen to us, but rather it is the key to opening the door to the best thing that can happen to us.

So then, in conclusion, what is God’s word to us this Lent? What is his word to us, which we need to share with one another, and with God’s world? It is surely no more and no less than this: ‘turn away from sin, and believe the good news’.

May it be so. Amen

Monday, 25 April 2011

A Call for the Return of Police “Services”

This press release was issued on 25 April 2011

South Africa’s Police should be renamed as ‘Services’, and the word ‘Force’ should be dropped, the Archbishop of Cape Town said, in his Easter Sermon.

Preaching at St George’s Cathedral, Cape Town, at the Easter Vigil Service on Saturday night, Dr Thabo Makgoba called for the police to be consciously focussed on delivering ‘safety and security’, and other ‘life-affirming’ action. In contrast, to speak of ‘force’ was too often to ‘maim and kill’ and be ‘wrapped in brutality’.

The Archbishop challenged South Africans to consider what it means to ‘meet the risen Jesus in Galilee’, through following Jesus’ example in their own lives. He spoke of his discomfort at having ‘to walk alongside wealth-creators or others whom power has corrupted, in order to challenge them’ to live by Jesus’ standards, as well as being pastor to the poor and needy, and promoting care of God’s world.

Dr Makgoba highlighted Jesus’ call for reconciliation and forgiveness, even with those we consider our enemies, in the light of Andries Tatane’s killing, and his own subsequent visit to Ficksburg. He repeated his call for the President and senior Ministers to go and apologise publicly for the unjustifiable violence as well as for the appalling conditions against which residents had demonstrated, and to make concrete improvements in housing and service delivery. While insisting that those responsible for Andries Tatane’s death must face justice, he also called for a process of forgiveness, and, as part of this, encouraged South Africans to demand the change in name for the police.

The Archbishop said people should take to heart the risen Jesus’ call ‘Do not be afraid’, and should be ‘fearless’ in demanding proper service delivery, especially for ‘the needs of the needy and the poorest of the poor’, and in opposing corruption. Everyone should be courageous in using their vote to call elected representatives to meet their promises and obligations.

The full text of the Archbishop’s Sermon follows below. Please note that the Archbishop’s reflections on his visit to Ficksburg, his Easter letter, and other recent statements can be found on his blog at http://archbishop.anglicanchurchsa.org.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

May I speak in the name of God, who raised Jesus, His Son, from the dead. Amen. Dear Friends in Christ, dear sisters and brothers at St George’s Cathedral – the Peoples’ Cathedral – Jesus has been raised indeed. Alleluia! We gather on this most Holy Night to acclaim and affirm that Jesus the Son of God was crucified for the sake of the World, and rose to new life, to break the power of death and bring redemptive hope to all humanity and to all of God’s creation. This is the Easter message and story – a celebration of new life which is always awaiting us. A gift of eternal life won through His victory over the cross – a gift which is always there, ready for us to unwrap.

As St Paul writes, ‘Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his’ (Romans 6:4-5). Thus, Jesus, by his cross and resurrection, has freed us from the slavery of sin, broken the chains of death, and opened the way to heaven, where in the Lord’s presence, there is fullness of joy and delight for evermore (Psalm 16:11).

So, in St Matthew’s gospel, we read how Jesus says, ‘Do not be afraid, go and tell my brothers (sisters) to go to Galilee; there they will see me’ (Matthew 28:10). Galilee was the centre of his earthly activities and ministries, where people were healed, fed, taught and comforted, and where the marginalised were incorporated and the authorities challenged. He invites us also to go there – ‘there you will see me.’ We must ask ourselves, what might your Galilee be and mean to you today – Galilee, a place for Jesus’ context and ministry? Where might Jesus be inviting you to go to today?

Since being Archbishop, I have felt constantly called to be a pastor, to come alongside others in their pain or despair as they face the forces of death and destruction, to affirm them and sometimes challenge their learnt helplessness. I have been called as well, to care for God’s planet, as it grieves the loss of its integrity and respect through the insatiable appetites of a greedy few when the majority go hungry, and too many die due to lack of food, water and energy and basic needs such sanitation. I have also been called – though at times I feel uncomfortable about this – to walk alongside the wealth creators or others whom power has absolutely corrupted, in order to challenge them and mirror the demands of God in Jesus Christ unveiled in the Galilee. I have been constantly called to write and reflect on what might constitute the common good, human flourishing and human dignity and as well as the integrity of God’s creation – or the reign of God in the now and here.

Let me share one example of what reflected my Galilee, this Holy Week – a context and ministry where Christ may have said, tell my brother, the Archbishop, to go there and ‘there he will see me.’ The protest in which police turned water cannons on Ficksburg residents has been such a place – where the police bizarrely drenched locals with gallons of water when they could not get it from their taps. This behaviour should set alarm bells ringing in dysfunctional towns across South Africa.

The story is that of Andries Tatane, a teacher and community worker, and his fellow community members who were demanding simply that justice be done. They wanted to be treated with dignity, to have water and proper toilets instead of the bucket system. They went to present a petition to their elected representatives but were met with disproportionate police force. Andries Tatane had to pay with his life to get the attention of his elected leaders.

The resurrected Jesus says to the Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, ‘Do not be afraid’ (Matthew 28:1ff). Perhaps, He says to you and me and the residents of Meqheleng and others - fear not! Continue the work in this Galilee of challenging authorities, say to Minister Sicelo Shiceka, visit Ficksburg and see the appalling conditions under which God's people live. Minister Tokyo Sexwale visit, also and tell the community what you are doing about their housing. Minister Nathi Mthethwa and President Zuma, publicly apologise for the acts of aggression of the police, and say that the senior officers responsible for the police who killed Andries should face justice too.

Equally and more challenging for us as Christians, as Bishop Anthony said yesterday (and as echoed by Fr Terry and Fr Clive, in their informative and inspiring meditations during the Good Friday Three Hour Service), let us go to our Galilee and learn to forgive even our killers, those who persecute you, even the police who killed Andries. I want to add to their call of yesterday, today’s gospel injunction - do not be afraid! Do not be afraid to make forgiveness a process, wherein the wronged encounter the wrong-doer and together tell their part, and together discover the forgiving and restoring Christ waiting for them both. Forgiveness cannot be a one way process.

I therefore, encourage all of us, the Tatane family, the residents in Meqheleng, to affirm and call for a renaming of our police services back to ‘safety and security’ and not a police ‘force’, for this force seems to maim and kill rather than offer safety and security. Our Police Force is not life affirming. Nor is it wrapped in life giving behaviour – ready for us to unwrap and find abundant life. It seems to be wrapped with brutality and force which Christ overcame by his death on the Cross. Perhaps part of this forgiving process would be to urge their elected leaders to provide new, better homes and living conditions for the people of Ficksburg and also for the poorest of the poor across our country. But to expect the poor to yet again understand whilst the political elite kill and enrich themselves at the poor’s expense, will betray the true forgiveness Christ calls for.

The point of Easter is that Jesus, the Son of God, was crucified for the sake of the world, and rose to new life, to break the power of death, oppression, deceit, tyranny and to bring abundant life, redemptive hope to all humanity and to God’s creation. By his death and resurrection, Jesus unveils for us a Living Hope and fearlessness in demanding that we be served by our elected leaders as we too serve others. I pray we too may come to know our responsibilities to one another. Perhaps this murder may be a positive outcome of the very public nature of this violent tragedy – that we may turn our outrage into actions – actions which will lead to better lives for all our sisters and brothers who still suffer from the indignities which failed delivery of basic services imposes on their lives.

We can all begin by taking our upcoming local elections seriously. In our voting may we prayerfully consider - who will get the job done? And once the elections have taken place and our elected leaders are in place, let us demand leadership with results – especially for the poorest of the poor. They have listened to promises for too long. And those of us who are privileged to have basic services and more - we cannot be silent any longer. We are one family – God’s family – and we have responsibilities to one another.

In my Easter monthly letter, I said, ‘People’s lives are at stake, as we face local elections in May, we must never forget this, especially as we decide how to vote. Will we choose life for all, or opulence for some at the expense of others? We are not a rich country, but what we have should be enough to go round. Everyone should have proper food, shelter, fresh drinking water and sanitation. Every child should have access to a decent education. Affordable, adequate health care should be available to everyone.’ We also need to care for our planet, our earthly home, for it does not have limitless resources of water, food and energy.

This is the Galilee which Jesus calls us to be fearless in standing for, both in words and action. Go and spread this Easter message and do likewise. God calls on all of us, on political parties, politicians, business people, to go to our Galilee and to serve him, and to serve the people of this nation and his broken world: to put the needs of the needy first, especially the poorest of the poor. To bring good news to the poor, loving our neighbours as ourselves, and treating others as we would like to be treated. To have time for the outcasts – the excluded and unimportant people of our day – remembering that every human being is made in the image of God, and deserves to be treated with dignity and respect.

As we join in acclamations, saying He is risen indeed, let us ensure that God’s good purposes for humanity find expression and fulfilment through us – that the Easter promise of abundant life that Jesus won for us on the cross may be known by all and felt by his creation too. Happy Easter!

Reference: Matthew 28:1-10

Issued by the Office of the Anglican Archbishop of Cape Town. Inquiries: Wendy Tokata on 021- 763-1320 (office hours)

Thursday, 9 April 2009

Archbishop Speaks in U.S. on Forgiveness

Archbishop Thabo Makgoba delivered the annual Willard and Jean Garvey Lecture at the Friends University in Wichita, Kansas, on 3 April 2009. Addressing the topic 'Forgiveness Made Concrete: Lessons from the South African Experience', the Archbishop discussed various aspects of the South Africa's recent history, including the peaceful transition from apartheid to democracy, and the background to, and operation of, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. He explored wider lessons of forgiveness, reconciliation and justice for South Africa and beyond, and considered the application of these in current global affairs.

The Garvey Lecture

‘Forgiveness Made Concrete:

Lessons from the South African Experience’

Friends University, Wichita

3 April 2009

Thank you for the invitation to give the Garvey Lecture. It is a great privilege and honour. I am particularly grateful to Dr Dixie Madden, and her colleagues at the Garvey Institute of Law, for all they have done to make me feel so welcome.

I am particularly glad to be able to come to Kansas, to Wichita – a part of the US I have not visited before. Though I must say, when I saw news of last weekend’s blizzards, I wondered if I was going to make it!

My task today is to speak about ‘Forgiveness Made Concrete: Lessons from the South African Experience.’

What I hope to do is this: •

first I shall describe South Africa’s apartheid history; and how it was that – broken, battered, and torn apart by our past – we would feel the need to pursue a new, and healing form of justice, and so set up the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, •

then I shall explain what was the Truth and Reconciliation Commission – or TRC, as we tend to call it: how it operated, what it hoped to achieve, and what was realised; •

then I shall conclude by reflecting on the lessons about forgiveness we should draw, both for South Africa as we continue with our democratic journey, and for the wider world.

In these reflections, I want to consider two particular questions. •

The first is the place for so much religious, and specifically Christian, imagery in what was a government-sponsored body. •

The second is to explore what resources a commission set up to address politically motivated violence can offer us at a time of global economic and environmental crisis, and what is the place of forgiveness here.

Setting the Scene

Let me begin at the beginning, though it is hard to know where the beginning actually lies.

Perhaps you know that the world’s oldest traces of anatomically modern humanity lie in South Africa!

However, today’s story dates from 1652, when the first European settlers arrived.

Colonial expansion inevitably led to struggles for power – between settlers and indigenous peoples, and between the Dutch and British.

When these two sides finally reached agreement, the increasing exclusion of the black population from the political arena followed.

Racial discrimination were already extensive when the National Party came to power in the 1948 elections.

Now a full-blown policy of apartheid was pursued with ruthless single-mindedness.

It is hard now to grasp quite how vicious apartheid was, and how far it was designed to treat the vast majority, close to 90% of the population as, frankly, less than fully human.

Everyone was classified by race. This classification determined: •

Where you could live. •

What work you could do. •

Which shops you could use. •

Which bus you could catch. •

Which hospital would treat you. •

Even who you could make out with or marry.

Everywhere, the best, the finest, was reserved, often exclusively, for the whites – who were the only people with a real vote.

Everywhere, the worst, the poorest, and often no provision at all, was for those classed as black Africans.

I struggled to finish school, studying by candlelight in a crowded township house with no electricity, and no money for extra candles.

Though my grades gained me provisional acceptance at the traditionally white Witwatersrand University, deliberate government administrative delays prevented my studying there for three years, through a discriminatory policy called ‘Ministerial Approval’ intended to bar Blacks seeking entrance at these institutions.

Once there, I was determined to make the most of every opportunity, reading widely outside my major, and developing the insatiable love of books I still have!

But the whole process scarred me emotionally.

My intervening years at a black university were counted as nothing – and there I had been traumatised by police and army, when students demonstrated at the nutritionally inadequate food we were given.

Even the right to protest against injustice was denied by law!

Those, of whatever background, who opposed the system were met with the harshest response, including beatings, torture and death.

And the government tightly censored the media, so the full truth of what was happening was hard to come by within South Africa – though the rest of the world watched with condemnation.

The Challenge to the Churches

Instead of ‘apartheid’, the minority government often spoke of [quote] ‘separate development’ [unquote] between races – claiming biblical support, particularly Old Testament teaching that the ancient Hebrew people were to keep apart from, and certainly not intermarry with, those of other tribes.

In response, the World Council of Churches decreed that apartheid, which denied even basic rights to so many, was a heresy.

Most of the South African Churches – and some very brave individuals within the Dutch Reformed Church – said a clear no to apartheid. They said: •

it is all of humanity, equally, that is made in the image of God; •

it is all of humanity, equally, that Jesus embraces in his incarnation; •

it is all of humanity, equally, in whom the Spirit dwells by baptism;

These churches argued that everyone, equally, is deserving of respect and dignity. God’s promises of justice and true shalom peace are so everyone may prosper and flourish, here and now – and not only in the heaven that is to come.

During this time, our churches enjoyed significant support from around the world. We shall always be grateful for the strong links between my own church, the Anglican Church of Southern Africa, and Episcopalians and others in the United States.

Even though most churches spoke out against apartheid, it took more determination to avoid being complicit in other ways.

Some denominations had separate structures, or even parallel churches with different pay scales. Congregations tended to reflect regulations over who could live where, and often clergy appointments did so too.

The Anglican Church later apologised to Archbishop Desmond Tutu for not fully supporting him, including over his call for international sanctions.

There was even less agreement within the churches over whether Christians could, in certain circumstances, support the armed struggle; that is, support opposing the apartheid regime by force.

The Path to Democracy

The beginning of the end came in 1960.

First, the African National Congress – the ANC – and other African political groups were banned.

Second was the Sharpeville massacre, when police fired on a demonstrating crowd, leaving 67 dead and 186 wounded.

Political violence escalated.

People disappeared, others were beaten and abused, tortured and even killed in custody, or sentenced to lengthy imprisonment often with hard labour.

Between 1960 and 1994, some 2,500 were given the death penalty for political crimes and hanged.

In 1976, when school children in Soweto protested at being forced to study some subjects, like math, in Afrikaans, the whole country seemed to boil over.

Many townships and rural areas became extremely unstable and violent.

By the late 80s it was clear the situation was unsustainable internally and externally. International isolation and economic pressure had also grown, with the United Nations declaring apartheid a crime against humanity.

Finally, with little alternative before him, President de Klerk dared to begin dismantling apartheid.

In 1990 the ANC and other political parties were unbanned; and Nelson Mandela was released after 26 years in prison.

Nelson Mandela and F W De Klerk worked together for a smooth transition, and were jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1993.

In 1994 we held our first ever fully free and fair democratic elections.

Mandela became President, and though the ANC had a 63% majority, he formed a government of National Unity.

This symbolised commitment to seeking unity for the whole country and all its people.

Living with Democracy

Well, this has been a long introduction, but I hope you now appreciate the enormity of what the new democratic government faced.

Many had predicted that apartheid would inevitable be followed by a blood bath, as those who had suffered so much and for so long, responded with the justice of retribution, and revenge.

But that was not the vision that inspired the new leadership.

At his trial, 30 years earlier, Nelson Mandela had said:

I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for … But if needs be, it is an ideal I am prepared to die for.

After all he had suffered, Mandela still desired freedom and harmony for everyone, no matter what their race or background or political affiliation.

To achieve this, the country needed a fresh start, and a new beginning: one that did not deny the horrors of the past, but somehow allowed people to acknowledge them fully, deal with them appropriately, and then move forward into a better place.

The past must not hold the future hostage.

As we shall shortly see, the key that sets us free lies with forgiveness.

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was established by an act of Parliament in 1995 with the objective [quote] ‘to promote national unity and reconciliation in a spirit of understanding which transcends the conflicts and decisions of the past’ [unquote].

To achieve this, it was to uncover and record the extent of gross human rights violations, to evaluate amnesty applications, to propose reparations, and provide a comprehensive report on those dark days from 1960 to 1994.

The Commissioners were selected through public consultation and interview, and the recently retired Archbishop of Cape Town – my predecessor-but-one – Desmond Tutu was appointed chair.

In the next two years they addressed over 50,000 cases of gross human rights violations.

These ranged: •

from deliberate killings and deaths that resulted from extreme maltreatment; •

to torture, beating, burning, shooting, mutilation, and mental and sexual abuse; •

through to abductions and all manner of other serious infringements, and all as politically motivated acts.

The great majority of the violations were committed, directly or indirectly, by the apartheid government’s forces; but other violations were the responsibility of movements opposed to apartheid – some of which opposed each other.

The 140 public hearings that were held across the country are what most people know best about the TRC.

In addition, over 20,000 individual statements were taken, and over 7000 amnesty applications received. There were also special investigations and research projects.

The stories that people told of what had happened to them or to their loved ones, and the admissions people made of the atrocities which they had carried out, are almost beyond comprehension.

At one point, I had to stop watching the nightly television broadcasts of the day’s hearings, because it was too traumatising, even at that distance.

It was not surprising that the TRC had to set up a mental health unit to support victims and perpetrators, communities, and also the TRC’s own personnel.

The Question of Justice

So then, what could be done with this unimaginable burden of past pain and injury?

Of course, some people had argued for something like the Nuremberg trials, the ‘victor’s justice’ that followed the Second World War.

This was never feasible.

Further, it would have only exacerbated division, and undermined the reconciliation and healing to which the country dared aspire.

No, trials and retribution could not be the way forward.

But neither could we do nothing.

This would have further victimised the victims, by silencing their past, and so denying the awfulness, and the lasting legacy, of their experiences.

Justice and Freedom

Perhaps you remember Ariel Dorfmann’s play Death and the Maiden – made into a film with Sigourney Weaver and Ben Kingsley. [Desmond Tutu refers to this in the TRC Report.]

A woman by chance encounters a man whom she believes raped and tortured her years previously. She is ready to kill him, as long as he denies these acts.

But when he admits what he did, she lets him go.

His admission has acknowledged the reality of what she faced. It has restored her dignity, her identity.

She is affirmed truly as who she believes herself to be – and as herself, even bearing the scars of her now-acknowledged past, she can go forward feeling respected.

By choosing to be free of the past herself, somehow she can also grant freedom from the past to her torturer.

There is something profound at work here.

Of course, it is encapsulated in Christian theology – but the fact that it can be depicted in such powerful theatre demonstrates that it is not only Christians that can grasp this mysterious reality.

‘You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free’ said Jesus – himself called the Way, the Truth and the Life.

It is my belief that those who walk in Jesus’ way, and pursue his truth – even if they do not realise, or do not acknowledge, that this is what they are doing – will nonetheless experience his life-giving grace, and so shall find the path to freedom which he promises.

In other words, this principle really works throughout human experience – because it reflects, and therefore taps into, God’s best and loving purposes for humanity.

In ways that we may not be able to explain – but which we can nonetheless powerfully experience – the truth does indeed set us free, free from the power of evil.

It sets free those to whom evil acts were done – and it also frees those who were caught up in those evil acts.

They too were, in a strange way, victims of evil. In South Africa, we knew that everyone, even those who had benefited from apartheid, had to be set free from the past, in order to be able to participate in the new future we dared to pursue.

Truth and Forgiveness

Forgiveness is an unavoidable part of this process of finding freedom through truth-telling.

What do we mean by forgiveness?

The TRC report says this

‘Forgiveness is not about forgetting. It is about seeking to forego bitterness, renouncing resentment, moving past old hurt, and becoming a survivor rather than a passive victim.’

This is a very important insight.

It underlines how, first of all, a person who forgives is, as it has been described, ‘doing themselves a favour’.

It is reaching a point where one can let go of the stranglehold of the past – and be freed to go forward, not on terms dictated by the past and its pains, but on one’s own terms.

To offer forgiveness to another is also to set them free.

None of us can change our past.

But forgiveness offers us the gift of a new future, a future free from being held hostage by the past.

But freedom comes at the cost of truth that can often be heart-breaking – and we must not forget this.

This is why those who had participated in human rights violations, had to be fully honest, if they wanted to receive either forgiveness from their victims, or the official amnesty that was part of the TRC’s task.

St John, in his first epistle, sums up the principle:

‘If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness’ (1 John 1:8-9).

The forgiveness we receive from God in Christ, came the price of his own death on the cross – yet it was a death freely given, in order to set us free, and give us a new future of abundant life as beloved children of God.

If you read accounts of how, through the TRC, perpetrators sought forgiveness from those they had hurt, or whose loved ones they had killed; and how many of these, often against their own expectations, were able to offer forgiveness, it will move you to tears.

So often, through forgiveness both victims and perpetrators found immense, and often unanticipated, relief and release.

Often they did speak of God’s influence on them, but let me stress that Christians do not have a monopoly on forgiveness.

Yet, because forgiveness is God-shaped, we should not be surprised that the power of forgiveness to bring new, free, futures, through truth-telling, has been found to work elsewhere in human experience.

Restorative Justice

Let me mention just one such example.

Perhaps you have heard of Restorative Justice.

This is an approach that is increasingly used in the secular world, often alongside what we call Retributive Justice – the traditional approach of a punishment for every crime.

It is used because experience shows that very often, punishment alone does not solve underlying, far more fundamental problems – whereas restorative justice can indeed bring restoration of an all round better solution.

Restorative Justice can also be used to break log-jams when relationships have gone sour in other ways.

In the United States, I understand it is being applied in areas that range from prisons to child welfare. It can even be used in breakdowns of relationships in a place of work.

Let me explain what Restorative Justice is all about.

The aim is to bring about solutions that do far more than merely address wrong-doing, but instead aim to bring healing and wholeness – not least, to the victims of injustice, but also to the entire underlying situation.

Restorative Justice recognises that sometimes wrong-doing is only a symptom of something greater that is not as it should be – and that needs to be addressed too.

Therefore, it is as though the bad situation itself becomes the very crucible in which new beginnings are forged; and the wrong-doing (and there may be wrong-doing on more than one side) is transformed into a stepping stone to a better future.

This happens as part of deep and honest encounter between all the concerned parties, that emphasises healing the wounds of everyone involved – whether offended against, or offending, since all are damaged by division.

At the same time, questions are pursued about what will make for greater wholeness in whatever is the wider context or community.

The desired outcome is that everyone will become contributing members of a community that grows and shapes itself to minimise the possibility of similar harmful actions finding fertile ground in the future.

Though not identical to the TRC procedures, I hope you can see that there are a lot of parallels. There is certainly a shared goal of transformative reconciliation –in which forgiveness sought and offered plays an inevitable role.

But let me stress, neither the TRC amnesty process nor Restorative Justice are soft options.

Neither lets perpetrators off the hook lightly. They have to face what they have done, and the human consequences of their actions. They have to admit guilt and, to use a word from religion, they have to repent.

Restorative justice expects those who have caused injury to take steps to repair it, and they may also have to face legal consequences – Retributive Justice may well be part of the picture too.

And in South Africa, while the TRC granted 849 applications for amnesty, 5,392 were denied.

In the majority of refused cases, people were trying to give a political justification – an excuse, in fact – for what was no more than a straightforward criminal act, in the hope of avoiding prosecution. That could not be allowed. They had to face the music.

Others were refused because they denied their guilt, or failed to give the full story, or seemed to be in pursuit of personal gain.

But where people had been caught up in the greater evil of the apartheid political system itself, no matter on which ‘side’ they had been, the country decided it was prepared to give them amnesty, if they told the truth, and were truly sorry.

I find Restorative Justice profoundly ‘gospel shaped’.

It breaks into negative cycles with redemptive hope.

This is what St Paul promises in the letter to the Romans( ref), when he writes that God can and does ‘work for good in all things’, in every circumstance of life, no matter how desperate, if only we are prepared to let him.

This is perhaps a new way of thinking about justice that we ought to consider more widely – at every level from personal disputes to the global community.

[ PAUSE ]

The Goal of Justice

Let me raise the fundamental question of ‘What do we want from justice?’

Traditional justice, Retributive Justice, the justice of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, on its own is zero-sum justice.

Rarely is anyone left better off; the underlying situation is seldom improved; and little account is taken of the victim’s needs.

What help is such justice?

We know we are all ‘only human’, and struggle with the failings of our humanity. We do not want to be trapped in our worst selves. We need redemptive hope.

In South Africa, retributive justice would not have promoted national unity and reconciliation, nor helped us transcend our past.

In contrast, Restorative Justice, handled properly, can lead to a win-win situation. Taken overall, it can move us forward into a better situation than the one we left behind, and open up a better future.

Isn’t that what we all need, whatever injustices we face?

This is what we dared to hope for through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission

Shortcomings of the TRC Process

Of course, as the Commission itself admitted, the TRC had shortcomings, though these are outside the scope of what I want to address today.

Of greater concern is that its undeniable achievements were not adequately built on, and its recommendations not fully implemented.

It is often said the TRC delivered Truth, but this was not sufficiently matched by Reconciliation – and for this the South African, ANC-led, government must take its share of the blame.

First, the Commission judged that some level of reparation to victims of gross human rights violations was a necessary complement to truth seeking.

This would express a nation-wide public moral responsibility towards victims and shared national commitment to healing the wounds of the past.

It was part of the overall justice package, though one cannot put a price on life nor trauma.

Yet payment of reparations was delayed and fell significantly below what the Commission proposed.

The ‘justice’ element of the restorative justice nature of the TRC was also undermined by government failure to address proposals addressing land ownership and business.

But two other shortcomings have been more serious in their consequences.

The first is the failure of the new government to address sufficiently urgently or adequately the economic legacy of apartheid upon the poorest sectors of the population, in relation to everything from pensions and child-grants to education to health provisions.

This (along with land and business questions) brings into the equation a further form of justice – ‘distributive justice’ – but this lies outside the scope of what I have time for today.

Secondly, government failed to act on recommendations to consolidate the TRC’s achievements through deliberately promoting a nation-wide culture of reconciliation, tolerance, human rights and unity.

This was a particular concern to the TRC, since it was not itself asked to address the fact that 90% of the population suffered oppression under apartheid.

And though the TRC hearings were cathartic for many – including those who felt their own stories were told through the testimony of others with similar experiences – some were left with uncovered trauma, and feelings of anger and disappointment. Certainly, we have inadequate mental health resources in this country to handle the emotional pains of the past.

So, even though we are undoubtedly better off than if we had pursued a route of retributive justice alone, we are nonetheless left with a double burden – of material need, and of emotional need.

Both were partially addressed in the TRC, but governmental completion of the task has been sadly lacking.

Shortcomings of Government and Society – in South Africa and Beyond

I have to say that government negligence seems to reflect a focus by too many of the new black elite on gaining power and wealth and status; and leaving behind their old roots with hardly a backward glance.

Well, perhaps who can blame them?

Democracy came, and with both hands, they grasped what democracy in the West has been about for far too long: rampant easy consumerism with little thought for the true cost, for sustainability, or for the effect on others.

As Gordon Gecko said in the 1987 film, Wall Street, ‘greed is good’.

Globally, we are now facing the economic and social consequences of such behaviour.

Though the credit crunch is hitting places like the US very hard – and I guess Wichita’s aviation industry is facing very uncertain times – in fact the greatest and most lasting effect will be among the poorest populations and nations of the world.

These are also the ones who are increasingly experiencing the most severe consequences of that other result of rampant consumerism: global warming and environmental degradation.

In Southern Africa – my own country, the other countries of the Province of which I am archbishop, and our neighbours – the last few years have seen unprecedented floods, unprecedented storms, unprecedented droughts. And the trend is steadily worsening.

Yet it will not do for us to sit back and put all the blame on a few greedy bankers, a few greedy oil barons, a few greedy politicians.

Actually, all of us, who have consistently voted in economically liberalising governments over the past two or three decades, and who have enjoyed rising consumerist standards of living with little thought for the real cost, must take our share of the blame too.

The TRC required admissions of guilt. Restorative justice requires readiness by all to admit shortcomings and complicity in allowing unhealthy contexts to persist.

In this season of Lent, we are all called to self-reflection. Have we demanded the unsustainable from our politicians? Have we pursued lifestyles with destructive carbon footprints? Is not each one of us called to humility, to seek forgiveness, to repent?

Remember: in the Greek of the New Testament, to repent is to change direction.

We most certainly need a change of direction if we are to rebuild our economies in ways that will allow the world and all its inhabitants to flourish.

So let me turn now to the final section of my speech, and what other lessons the Truth and Reconciliation Commission can offer South Africa and the world – especially in relation to forgiveness, justice, and our desire to find a new and better direction for the future.

The Role of Community - Ubuntu

A better future must be for everybody, if is it to make any sense whatsoever.

The TRC was designed for the healing of the whole nation; overcoming the legacy of apartheid, which aimed to divide every community from all the others.

Restorative justice also situates itself within the wider community, wanting to change the context to minimise the possibility of repeating past injustices, and maximising potential for a better future for all.

In contrast, unregulated consumerism upholds the cult of the individual, and undermines social cohesiveness.

So the first lesson is that, at every level, we need to recover a sense of community, as the place where healing and hope can best happen.

In South Africa we often speak of the concept of ubuntu.

We say ‘Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu’, which means ‘people are people through other people’.

In other words, we discover and experience our humanity in our relationships with others, and not only with the people of our choosing, but with everyone.

The fullness, the best, of our humanity can only be found if we pursue it together.

Similarly, restorative justice processes in North America often draw on community-level experiences of First Nations people in dealing with disruptive issues.

When it comes to sorting out current economic problems – and certainly when it comes to tackling climate change – we have no option but to work as a global community.

You may not agree with Hilary Clinton or her politics, but she was right when she said earlier this year, that ‘America cannot solve the problems of the world alone, and the world cannot solve them without America.’

Or perhaps you prefer the words of the Bible ‘Love your neighbour as yourself’.

In today’s globalised world, we are all neighbours.

Economically, and environmentally, we will stand or fall together.

Therefore we have no option, but to learn what it means to act lovingly towards everyone, and to be good neighbours to the whole human race.

The Golden Rule

This means following another principle that the Bible shares with other religions and with philosophy – often known as the Golden Rule.

Jesus put it this way ‘In everything, do to others what you would have them do to you.’

This means treating everyone with the same respect and dignity that we would like to be treated with ourselves.

First of all, this includes paying attention to others – listening respectfully to their experiences, their understandings.

Such listening also acknowledges the huge diversity of humanity – whether in personality or culture or ability or experience or age or gender or anything else.

This mutual listening is rooted in the recognition that we are enriched when we can all share our own perspectives freely with one another. None of us has the whole truth, and together we can uncover a fuller picture.

We certainly need to continue affirming human diversity within South Africa, where we have 11 different official languages, and many more besides, spoken by those who live among us! We are truly a global microcosm!

Such community listening by everyone to everyone is at the heart of ubuntu and of First Nation practices.

It was reflected in the hearings of the TRC, where people could recount their stories, and know they had truly been heard.

What is Truth?

As well as challenging our ideas of justice, the TRC also challenged our understanding of truth.

The TRC report speaks four types of truth:

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First is factual or forensic truth, about times, dates, events and so forth.

Learning the details of when, where and how people had died, could help bring some closure to their loved ones.

Conversely, concealing truth disempowers and demeans people – even where it does not abuse them.

This is why complete financial transparency is a non-negotiable in rebuilding healthy economies – transparency in everything from off-shore investing, to lending practices, to currency and commodity speculation, to betting against the market, to directors’ bonuses.

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Second, is personal or narrative truth.

This is the truth that was heard and acknowledged as people recounted, in their own words, what they experienced and the effect it had on them.

By being heard and respected by the Commission, people felt themselves respected and heard by the Government and nation that had appointed the TRC.

This is also the truth that perpetrators were called on to offer – to acknowledge what they did in ways that recognised the human dimension of their acts, and their need of forgiveness.

I have already spoken of our need to be honest about our own shortcomings as part of greedy societies that have brought about our own downfall.

Future global economic systems must also explicitly acknowledge human truths – that some things matter more than dollars on balance sheets, that we live in a world of finite resources, and that the human consequences of economic policies and practices must always be part of the equation.

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The third truth that the TRC sought was social or ‘dialogue’ truth.

This was the attempt to portray a full and complex picture of the many interrelating meanings, motives and perspectives that were at work within South Africa during our darkest days.

This is the truth that the Commission sought to express in its Report.

In today’s world, social, dialogue, truth reminds us that we are a single global neighbourhood, who must therefore pursue joined-up thinking and joined-up policy-making.

No person or nation, no sector of human activity, is independent of any other. Everyone and everything must take into account everyone and everything else.

More than this, social truth acknowledges our diversity, whatever its source. It acknowledges too that our differences may entail differentiated responses – especially responses that most protect the dignity and well-being of the weakest and poorest. There are rarely simple ‘one-size fits all’ solutions.

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Finally, the TRC sought healing and restorative truth.

This is the truth the TRC tried to promote for the future, through the processes it followed, in the way it presented its Report, and in its recommendations.

Healing and restorative truth is the acknowledgement of all that has happened in a way that opens the door to new and transformative possibilities.

How do we go about finding such truth for our world today?

From Truth to Justice

The TRC Report reminds us that while truth precedes reconciliation, reconciliation requires not only truth telling and the admission of guilt, but some sort of justice – and that the most effective justice may not be the limiting dead-end justice of retribution.

Likewise, restorative justice requires offenders to make reparations.

Our global community needs more than apportioning blame.

We need new beginnings – and these must be built on deliberately overturning and rectifying the injustices of the past.

All of us need to ask, ‘How can we be part of the solution, not part of the problem – not only for ourselves, but for the world?’

I must say that the world has high expectations of the United States.

As Scripture says, ‘from those to whom much has been given, much will be required’.

Yet it is something of a tragedy that a country founded upon the ideals of the Declaration of Independence, that are enshrined within your Constitution: •

has become so entangled with the horrors of Guantanamo; •

or too often appears narrowly self-serving in its economic aspirations, foreign policy and military engagement; •

or has failed to join international efforts to combat climate change, or oppose racism, or take up so many other important causes that are promoted, rightly, through the United Nations.

Now, we have listened to the rhetoric of your new president, and we dare to hope of new beginnings, of community and partnership and neighbourliness.

We know that his first responsibility is to care for Americans – but we also believe he understands that Americans will be safe only when the whole human family lives in safety and security.

We also know that economic justice, political justice – the justice of mutual respect, of honesty in word and deed, of listening to others, of following the Golden Rule, is at the heart of a safe and secure global community.

So we pray for you, acknowledging that the road ahead is not easy, and that the burdens your country bears are very great – and yet also daring to believe that, if you and we act together, the crises of our current times can indeed become the crucible from which a new and better future is wrought.

The Voice of Faith

Finally, let me say more about the voice of faith in public life.

It is true that the TRC was headed by an Archbishop, who openly prayed at the beginning of hearings, and on other occasions. When he was absent, often a candle was lit, and silence observed.

He and other Commissioners often used Christian language – as did many of those who came before the Commission.

This has been criticised. The Commission itself noted that the Christian community has not always given enough space or respect to other faiths, or to those of none.

But drawing on Christian principles provided a foundation on which the TRC could effectively build.

In a country where Christianity remains very strong, it gave us a language for addressing our pains, and pursuing our hopes – and much was achieved – we were blessed indeed.

Yet, as I hope I have shown, gospel-shaped principles of truth, justice, forgiveness and reconciliation are also effectively used in secular contexts.

South Africa’s secularism is of course very different to America’s.

Our Constitution recognises that every citizen has their own culture, language, beliefs, sexual orientation, marital status, and so forth – and it is with all these particularities that we participate in our nation’s life.

In other words, while our Constitution guarantees neutrality and outlaws discrimination between all faiths and none, it does not ask us to pretend that somehow we all lose humanity’s spiritual dimension whenever we step outside our private homes.

In this country, separation of state and religion happens in other ways – and perhaps we can talk about this in the question and answer session.

Yet the whole world watched while two sets of prayers were said at the President’s inauguration, and as he placed his hand on the Bible while taking the oath of office.

So all Christians – and here, finally, is a lesson, a challenge, for every one of us – all Christians should use whatever opportunities are open to us, to promote gospel-shaped principles such as truth, justice, forgiveness and reconciliation

Because we know that whatever is gospel-shaped will, through the mysteries of God’s love, know his grace, and the blessing of his promises.

Amen. May it be so.