News from New Zealand - 3

Monday 29 October – The cloud could not contain the rain today. So after lunch I walked to a shop and bought myself a purple umbrella. The choice of colour, I hasten to add, had nothing to do with episcopal concerns. It was just the most practical the store had.

The cathedral is about 7 minutes, a gentle uphill walk, from the hotel we stay at. So we are not only nurtured spiritually with the word of God and daily Mass, we are also being kept fit. We walk the route at least twice a day, from the hotel to the cathedral and back. And if you want a siesta, like I did today, succumbing to jet lag, you walk four times 7 minutes, up and down to the cathedral.

I have enjoyed walking with Louisa Mojela ,our lay representative, and catching up on Anglican Global South matters , as she also represent our Province in this structure. I also walked with the Bishop of Ceylon and began to understand some more about his context. On another occasion, I walked with a bishop from Tanzania, and really enjoyed connecting with him. Last night, I also spoke to a retired bishop from Tanzania , who, like Judge Albi Sachs and Fr Michael Lapsley, was sent a letter bomb by the apartheid forces and he too lost his hand. He was an amazing man, who talked with no regret nor bitterness for the atrocious act of the past, but spoke fondly of his time in Lesotho, Swaziland and Lusaka as an Anglican chaplain with Umkhonto We Sizwe. I remain grateful for all those who sacrificed their lives and, literally, body parts for our liberation.

This transformative and redeeming spirit was expounded by Archbishop Rowan, when he started today’s morning session with a quiet time and an exposition of 2 Cor 2:14-17. He said the context is that of Paul seeking to respond to his own challenging context, which may have been both similar and uniquely different to that faced by those I mentioned, with its pain, anger, suffering, and marginalization. Paul seeks to respond in a gospel shaped way. This takes the form of acknowledging our deep-seated emotions: in Paul's case his blazing anger in his letter to the Corinthian church. He then has to step back to critically reflect on these emotions. We must ask ourselves too, is our anger at a thing, a person, or a community? Acknowledging that God is faithful to both us and to others, is to reveal God' s passionate faithfulness in us, in that ‘while we were still sinners’, he sent his only son to liberate us, rather than to condemn us. And so we are challenged to ask ourselves whether our anger is more about passionate self-righteousness than faithfulness to God and God’s communion with us and who or whatever is ‘the other’ in our anger. Archbishop Rowan then called for critical faithfulness: critical because we believe in God’s redeeming presence, and faithfulness because ‘He who calls us is faithful and he will do it.’ He is faithful and will not go away, but will always be there. And so the church is called to ‘be there’ in God’s world, not to run away but offer this presence for all in need. This comes at a cost. The fragrance of death of which St Paul writes is an indication that something has to die in us, and the fragrance of life indicates that we are being transfigured into the likeness of Christ as we critically and faithfully serve God in the other.

The Anglican Communion’s Secretary General, Kenneth Kearon, in his opening address, took a similar line to the above reflection while speaking independently. He drew the analogy of the ACC and communion members as glass. We are required to cooperate and work with one another as we radiate, reflect, refract what communion is about. Doing this, like having stained glass windows in our cathedrals or parish churches, comes with a price. The cost of belonging requires transformation, which entails death to stagnant positions, because none of us can fully capture the whole picture of who God is and what communion is about. He concluded, ‘We each bring our own piece of stained glass and add it to the window alongside that of others, and so reveal the fullness of the glory of God in our broken and hurting world.’

The Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia is in effect a unity of three churches, or three ‘Tikanga’ as they call them: the Maori, Pakeha (ie of European descent) and Polynesian. Even in their negotiated settlement, there is this cost and this value; and so their fuller picture should be seen as a bright collage which is distinctive in its differences and yet one. So tonight we ended the day by having dinner at the Maori church, which displayed its traditional food, lovingly served for the good of the communion and extension of God’s mission. We sat and ate together and shared sweet fellowship. I found myself reflecting that if this is possible, in this place which also faced past divisions, yet came to acknowledge their pain honestly, then it is possible for South Africa to stay on course with reconciliation in spite of the current mining sector and other challenges. In the same way, it is also possible for our Communion, and even the world, with each bringing our unique pieces into forming this picture that is open, loving, transparent, and able to serve God with critical faithfulness, confidently knowing that he will never abandon his church or his world. He is faithful and this is the reason for my joy. What about you? If you examine yourself, what emotions do you have which need to die and be replaced with the aroma of Christ? And what about our church and our country?

God bless, Arch Thabo

150 years of Anglican Worship in the Constantia Valley

The following sermon was preached at Christ Church Constantia on 6 March 2011. During the service, the Wingerdstok Cross - made of old vines donated by the Klein Constantia farm, fixed to a hessian covered board by wire worked into a central crown of thorns - was blessed.

1 Kings 8:22-30; 1 Peter 2:4-9; Matthew 21:12-16

May I speak in the name of God, the master builder, who calls us to be his living stones.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, dear people of God of Christ Church Constantia, let me say again what a delight it is to be with you as you celebrate 150 years of Anglican worship and witness in the Constantia Valley. Thank you, Keith – and Gladys – for your warm welcome; thank you churchwardens; thank you to everyone involved in this service, and to all who have taken part in the wider celebrations that you have been enjoying. It is a real pleasure to be with you this morning!

When I first came to Cape Town, one of the great challenges on a Sunday morning was finding my way to wherever I was due to preach. Some of the churches of our Diocese are not easy to locate. But that is not the case here – everyone knows of ‘The Stone Church’ on Constantia Main Road: this beautiful building of Table Mountain sandstone.

Just a week ago, I was looking at very different stones – the limestone of the Temple in Jerusalem, the Temple where Jesus cast out the money-changers. No doubt St Peter was with him there on that day – and on many other occasions. Perhaps you remember the account in St Luke’s gospel, where the disciples were marvelling at the amazing rebuilding of the Temple carried out by Herod the Great, twenty years before Jesus’ birth. Jesus warned them not to put their trust in mere buildings, no matter how impressive, telling them that not one stone would be left standing.

Well, in 70AD, the Romans destroyed the Temple, almost completely. Today, only the lowest levels of Temple date from the time of Jesus – and a little more remains at the corners. The foundation stones of the Temple are vast – many are more than forty feet – twelve metres – long. Most weigh 70 tonnes or more, and the very heaviest is estimated at perhaps as much as 550 tonnes. At the corners, these huge stones are interlocked. They withstood the Temple’s destruction rather better than the rest of the building, and can be seen today, standing above the old foundations.

We don’t know whether St Peter wrote about Jesus as God’s cornerstone before or after this happened, but he certainly understood the way a good cornerstone strengthens the whole building. Nonetheless, pictures from New Zealand of the collapsed cathedral tower in Christchurch – where it was thought up to 22 had died but in fact, thank God, no bodies were found – remind us that, as Jesus said, we should not put our trust in stones, in bricks and mortar.

This is the message at the heart of our readings today. Solomon’s prayer declares that God cannot be contained, even in the holy of holies of the Jerusalem Temple. Rather, it is the place on which God looks with particular compassion; and the place in which, and towards which, people pray. In this way, the Temple is the focus of human life intersecting with the love of God, and his active presence with us.

And if anyone has any doubts about what this might mean in practice, well, they could do a lot worse than read through the wonderful commemorative book produced for your 150th anniversary. I was fascinated to read the story of Anglican worship here – through far more twists and turns of history than I had imagined. Not only did the apartheid government try to stop coloured people living and worshipping here – at one point, an earlier rector tried to make the white members of the parish go elsewhere!

But we are not really here today to mark the history of, first, a thatched chapel, and then this stone building. No, we are here to celebrate the living faith of Jesus Christ, vibrant among his people, over a century and a half. For it is the faithfulness of men and women, who held together, no matter what, which has withstood the buffeting of time, and kept this congregation, this worshipping community, alive – indeed, alive and thriving. So we pay tribute today to all those who have served here in the past: to clergy, of course, but perhaps rather more so to those families – and especially those coloured families – who have been at the heart of Christ Church life, over generations: families like the Adamses, the Williamses, the Pelstons, the Davidses, the Petersons, the Elys, and many more.

Our thanks are to you, and to your parents and grandparents before you. We know that your faithfulness came with great pain, at great cost. We also know that, without you, and without your commitment, we might not be here today – or we might be a very different church from the one which can produce such a broad and deep and rich Annual report as the one you shared at vestry this week. (You can tell I have been doing my homework, before coming here!)

Surely this is what it means to be living stones – creating amongst yourselves a focal point for people to encounter God, whatever the circumstances of their lives. We know that through Christ Church, people meet the living God, and find his love, his compassion, his strength, his comfort, his leading, his encouragement – even his judgement at times, in order to find his redemption, and his power to transform what is wrong and bring good out of evil.

The strength of the vast stones of the Temple in Jerusalem lies most of all not in their size and weight – but in the way they interlock. Where they were built together, they best withstood the Romans’ destructive efforts. The same is true of living stones. St Peter is not writing to individuals. He is writing to congregations, to Christian communities: let yourselves be built into a spiritual house – let yourselves be built together – to be a holy priesthood.

This is your calling, as the people of Christ Church, Constantia. God has chosen you. Yes, each of you individually he has called by name, as the prophet Isaiah says. But he has called you to belong to one another, so that together you can be his royal priesthood, his holy nation, God’s own people.

And he calls you together for a purpose, says St Peter: ‘in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.’ We proclaim his might acts through our words, and our actions. This is the life of worship, witness and service to which we pledge ourselves at confirmation. This worship, witness and service are most effective when the whole congregation shares together. As St Paul puts it in his first letter to the Thessalonians, ‘Therefore, encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.’

Today I say this also to you, ‘keep on encouraging one another, and building up each other, as indeed you are doing’:

• through morning and evening prayer and the prayer diary, the prayer chain and the fellowship groups;

• through community outreach and hampers and love-packs, and through the shop;

• through pastoral care givers and bereavement visitors and providing funeral teas;

• through the music and the flowers and the contribution of lay ministers and servers and readers and sidespeople;

• through the gardening group and the handyman team;

• through preparation for baptism, confirmation and marriage;

• through work with children and young people, as well as the seniors;

• through the wardens and parish council, the office and all the administrative work;

• through … well, the list goes on and on and on!

Now Keith, I know, is a construction engineer by training. He will no doubt tell you that a building doesn’t just need corner-stones. It needs bricks, it needs mortar, it needs plaster and roofing, plumbing and electrical work, it needs doors and windows, ceilings and floors, everything from huge joists to tiny screws. Thousands of different pieces must be fitted together like an unbelievably complicated jigsaw. But each piece is necessary, and must find its proper place.

And the same is true of us. We are all different. We all have different gifts, different aptitudes, different abilities, different expertise and experience. Yet God calls each of us to play our part. None of us is unimportant – all of us make a difference to God’s plans, God’s blue-print, for us. We make a difference by fitting in with God’s plans – and we also make a difference if we are fail to do so, perhaps because we are too hesitant, too timid.

But we should not be afraid, because God’s promise to us is that we matter, and even in small things, what we do counts, what we do matters – what we do has eternal significance. Our gospel reading reminded us of this. The praises of little children and babies can be more important in God’s great schemes than all the fancy words of religious leaders – now there’s a warning for you and me, Keith! So do not be afraid to let God use you as his living stone, and place you where he most wants you to be. And the promise of his Spirit is that he will help us to become the people he calls us to be.

Perhaps you might find another picture more helpful – the picture of the vine. ‘I am the true vine’ says Jesus, ‘Ek is die ware wingerdstok’ (Jn 15:1). He tells us to abide in him, and then, through his Spirit working within us, like the sap of the living vine, we will bear much fruit.

I must admit that when I first saw the Wingerdstok Cross, it almost took my breath away. It is so simple – yet it is so profound. The gnarled and twisted wood, the thorns, the nails, speak to us powerfully of the struggle of our own lives, and the struggle and pain of Christ on the cross. But they also speak of persistent life, irrepressible life, life that holds on and endures, through good times and bad, through fair weather and foul, through sun and rain, through cloud and storm.

This is the life that God assures for all of us, if only we abide in the true vine, if only we abide in Jesus – if only we are living stones, allowing ourselves to be built around the corners-stone that is Christ. For on the cross Jesus Christ has borne our pains, our suffering, our own sins, and the sins that have been perpetrated against us. He has suffered death so we can live; and so that we can share this same hope of life with others.

None of us know what the future will bring. Those people who first had a vision for an Anglican chapel in this valley – both white and coloured – none of them could have guessed what the next 150 years would bring. Sometimes life was easy. Sometimes life was more than tragic. But God is faithful and sees us through.

Today, we do not know what lies ahead. Certainly, there will be change. Keith will retire at the end of the year. But no-one needs worry, as long as Jesus is the cornerstone of our lives.

Dear people of God of Christ Church Constantia, my message today is very simple. Abide in Jesus. Abide in his love. Each of you, in your own heart – and all of you together, living in mutuality, caring for one another, allowing yourselves to be cared for; building one another up in love and faith, as God’s holy people.

Develop the habits of deepening prayer, and Bible study. Put your hand in his, and journey with him through your lives – as individuals, and as a community. Let him teach you, and lead you, into an ever deepening relationship with him. Let him use you, to build up the life of this congregation – a life of joyful praise and worship; and a life of faithful witness and dedicated service to the communities who are rooted in this valley.

For truly, ‘you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the might acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.’

So be it. Amen and Amen.

Sowing in Tears and Reaping in Joy - Commemorating St John's Church, Waterkant

Address given at St George’s Cathedral on 10 October 2010,, during events to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the closure of St John’s Church, Waterkant, and its subsequent sale and demolition.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, dear people of St John’s Waterkant, thank you for your invitation to join you in this afternoon’s commemoration. Hearing the stories of loss and pain, sorrow and anger, of old wounds that are still raw when they are touched, has so many resonances for me. In those dark days, so many of us across the country were uprooted from our homes; our communities were torn apart; and, as with the dismantling of St John’s Waterkant, the visible icons of communities’ hearts were ripped out and destroyed

On ordination, I was licensed to St Mary’s Cathedral, which had incorporated as best it could, the people, windows, pews, of All Souls’ chapel. This had been destroyed to make way for a new freeway connecting and dividing the suburbs of Johannesburg, according to the group areas. Then, when I married, Lungi and lived in a flat at St Albans – which had been a thriving parish in Malay Camp (Marshalltown). But the predominantly coloured congregation had been forcibly moved, the building’s adornments taken elsewhere, and it had been turned into a chapelry for domestic servants and hostel workers.

After that, I became the first Rector of Christ the King, Sophiatown, after it was bought back by the CPSA, and reconsecrated at Easter 1998. This iconic church was abandoned in 1967, then deconsecrated and sold, and willingly sold – I don’t think it was a forced sale – to the Government. They sold it on to the Nederduitsch Hervormde Kerk, who used it as a youth centre and boxing gym. Later it was bought by the Pinkster Protestant Kerk – and finally the diocese re-purchased it. To me it felt as if we had sold our own mother into prostitution, and were now buying her back in yet another sordid transaction. Christ the King returned to us with the building altered and dilapidated. What made my heart sorest of all was that the sacristy had disappeared; the CR Chapel had been remodelled beyond recognition; and Sister Margaret’s wonderful murals had been painted over and lost. Earlier this year, a British businessman presented a beautiful mosaic to replace the mural. But this does not alter the fact that, again and again, poor decisions were badly made, and too often implemented in callous and hurtful ways.

Today, it is so wry that I stand in the shoes of those Archbishops under whose watch these decisions were made – Archbishops of a Church which often opposed apartheid, but which in other ways got it so very wrong. The church will always reflect the ambiguous nature of humanity. At our best, we act courageously for God’s praise and glory. But there is also our worst side. And more often than not, this does not lie in spectacular errors, but rather in the small and shameful failings of fear and weakness and ignorance, where it is easier to say nothing or do nothing, instead of speaking out and acting decisively.

In today’s rapid political change, we must in our turn pray for eyes to see the signs of the times, and for the courage to respond where and how God wants us to. Pray for me, and the particular burden of office that I bear, in my own weaknesses and blindnesses. Pray that I may be wiser, braver, than the Archbishop who wrote to the Cape Times, in June 1970, that ‘many will feel more than a twinge of sadness at the disappearance of … St John’s’.

Today we have heard and felt far, far, more than a twinge in the deep anguish that has been shared. Today I stand here to take collective responsibility, and to say sorry – sorry from the bottom of my heart – for all that was done, that should not have been done; and for all that should have been done, and that was not done. People of St John’s, Waterkant, today the Anglican Church of Southern Africa apologises for all the wrongs done to you.

Yet while I stand in the shoes of Archbishops of the past – I also stand here as the Archbishop of today and tomorrow. I stand here knowing that saying sorry, long though it has been in coming, is not the end of the journey. For repentance allows us all to step forward towards the healing, the reconciliation, that Jesus made possible for us, through his own pain and suffering. His agony on the cross tells us that, words like healing and reconciliation are not used lightly or cheaply, in response to the anguish remembered in this Commemoration. God’s grace is not cheap. But God’s grace is abundant. All of us together must seek his face, and even seek his face in the faces of those who hurt us, so that his grace may abound in us all, and we can create a new future that glorifies his holy name.

In the Service with which we will conclude today, we will use the same readings as that final Service at St John’s. They speak of God’s unquenchable hope and promises of courage, even in the face of great confusion and loss. Perhaps we can now find that hope, that courage, in fuller measure. Yet I was also struck by verses from the Psalm that we would have sung, had we followed the Lectionary for Evening Prayer. In Psalm 126 we read: ‘Those that sow in tears shall reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed, shall come again in gladness, bringing their sheaves with them.’ There is so much in life to make us weep. But even in our weeping, we must dare to keep sowing – to keep bearing the seeds of hope, of promise, that God plants within us, and from which he desires to bring harvest sheaves and fruit that will last.

And therefore, instead of attempting to re-create the ‘good old days’ and remaining in a place of pain, we must dare to look to the future, and imagine what new opportunities we can create from what has gone before. Possible options we might explore could include the following: first, a youth skills training project, in collaboration with the Cathedral, at the Cathedral, jointly run with them. Second, a youth academy teaching computer skills, or attracting music scholars – the aim of both of these being to train young people in leadership formation and character formation, as St John’s and its community did for so many of you. And third, perhaps we could look at establishing some lasting legacy, akin to the Selby Taylor fund. Perhaps through donations we could set up ‘The Archbishop Makgoba – St John’s Waterkant’ bursary fund, for young people whose families are connected with St John’s.

And the challenge of the Psalmist is for us on a personal level also. We must not be afraid to weep – but we must keep on sowing. So many of us now are leaders and decision-makers in the Church. We, who have known such pain, even at the hands of our Church, must allow the Lord to use us as his wounded healers for the sake of our Church, our nation, our future. Let us offer our pain to God, so that he may release us from its destructive powers, and equip us to be his ministers of reconciliation, for the salvation of the world. Amen.

Archbishop’s concern for white South African men sparks emotional debate

The continuing damage done to both white and black South Africans by the “dehumanizing” effect of the struggle against apartheid led to an emotional debate at the triennial Provincial Synod of the Anglican Church of Southern Africa today (Friday 1 October 2010).

The synod was discussing a resolution arising out of concern expressed by Archbishop Thabo Makgoba of Cape Town for white South African men who were conscripted to fight for apartheid. Opening the synod, he described the issue as an “unmentionable area that we must dare to tackle,” and added: “Many are still wounded from that time, and need to be able to speak and find healing.”

During debate on a resolution supporting his concern, a number of white male priests, sometimes struggling to speak through tears, said they had been surprised by the intensity of their responses to an issue they had long thought something of the past. Bishop Jo Seoka of Pretoria added that “there are many black boys and girls who are still suffering as a consequence of their experience, not forgetting the young ones who went through June 16 [1976].”

Proposing the resolution arising from Archbishop Makgoba’s expression of concern, Dean Andrew Hunter of Grahamstown said of those conscripted: “All of us were shaped, marked and scarred to a greater or lesser effect… For some there has been long-term damage.” Although he welcomed the Archbishop’s initiative, he also said he wondered: “Are we ready for this? Are we big enough as a church for this? Should we also link this to the effects of belonging to MK or APLA on young black men?”

Full texts:

Archbishop Makgoba told the synod in his opening Charge:

“I want to name one unmentionable area that we must dare to tackle: the dehumanising effect of conscription on a generation of young men – barely more than boys. Many are still wounded from that time, and need to be able to speak and find healing. Our society makes this almost impossible. But before Jesus there are no taboo subjects.”

Dean Hunter’s resolution:

“The Dean of Grahamstown, seconded by Bishop R Hess, gave notice in terms of the rule for motions arising from the Archbishop’s Charge:

“Noting the Archbishop’s call for the Church to tackle the effects of conscription, THIS SYNOD welcomes this initiative, and prays for the healing of all those who were involved or impacted in any way.”

Archbishop Hopes for Woman Bishops

The Archbishop of Cape Town, the Most Revd. Thabo Makgoba, said today that one of his dreams during his term of office was to consecrate the Church's first woman bishop.

Archbishop Makgoba was delivering his Charge to the three-yearly Provincial Synod of the church in Benoni. The synod is his first as Archbishop and Metropolitan of the church.

Opening the synod, the Archbishop said the church was “hugely unrepresentative in relation to gender... Women constitute the majority in our pews, but the reverse is true at every level of leadership, lay and ordained.”

The Anglican Church resolved in 1992 to ordain women as priests, but as yet has not elected a woman as a bishop. Unlike some churches in the worldwide Anglican Communion, no separate decision is needed to admit women as bishops.

Archbishop Makgoba told the synod that, in South Africa, “the roles of men and women alike, of every culture, were distorted by apartheid. We need to develop appropriate spiritualities for us all, for contemporary living – that are also channels of healing for the legacies of our brutalising history.”

Continuing on this theme, the Archbishop added: “I want to name one unmentionable area that we must dare to tackle: the dehumanising effect of conscription on a generation of young men – barely more than boys.

“Many are still wounded from that time, from their time in Namibia and Angola, and need to be able to speak and find healing. Our society makes this almost impossible. But before Jesus there are no taboo subjects.”

Archbishop Makgoba also expressed his solidarity with Anglicans in Swaziland, saying he could not remain silent on the issue of democracy in the country, “where power and wealth is concentrated in the hands of a few, and political debate is hardly permitted.”

The Anglican Church in Southern Africa comprises dioceses in Angola, Lesotho, Mozambique, Namibia, South Africa, Swaziland and the islands of St Helena and Tristan da Cunha.

Referring to divisions in the worldwide Anglican Communion over the position of gays and lesbians in the church, the Archbishop said the church in Southern Africa refused to allow disagreements to split it. He said:

“For us, what has mattered most is: being centred on Christ; agreeing on the central matters of who Jesus is and the salvation he brings; and therefore recognising one another as being united in him, and, in consequence, with each other.

“In consequence, as we have found within the Synod of Bishops, when differences arise, none of us feels called to say to another: ‘I no longer consider you a Christian, a brother in Christ, a member of the body of Christ – I am no longer in communion with you.’”

Read the full text of the Archbishop's Charge >>