A sermon delivered to a Festive Service celebrating the 500th Anniversary of the Reformation at the 36th German Protestant Kirchentag, at the Elbe Meadows, Wittenberg.
Text: Genesis 16: 13; 1 Corinthians 13
Showing posts with label Martin Luther King. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Martin Luther King. Show all posts
Sunday, 28 May 2017
Friday, 26 December 2014
Listen to Archbishop Thabo's sermon for Christmas
This year you can listen to and download the sermon preached by Archbishop Thabo Makgoba at midnight Mass at St. George's Cathedral.
You can also click here for the SABC Television news report on YouTube, or scroll down for the full text of the sermon.
You can also click here for the SABC Television news report on YouTube, or scroll down for the full text of the sermon.
Thursday, 25 December 2014
Welcome the Season of Light by Becoming a Society of Long Spoons
A sermon for Christmas 2014, St George's Cathedral, Cape Town:
Luke 2:1-20
May I speak in the name of God who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen
A couple of days after my birthday earlier this month, our children drove me up Signal Hill. As usual there were a lot of people up there and, as the children wandered around the hill, I stood watching the sea. It was dusk, the sea was calm and it seemed to be enveloping us. As I looked out, the intermittent flashing of the Robben Island lighthouse could not be missed, and I could not resist the temptation to recall that the island from which that tiny light was flashing was where Madiba and his compatriots languished in darkness for years. Yet this is where the hope of our country was ignited. And as the sun set and it grew darker, the tiny light became even more visible than before.
Our Gospel reading evokes an image of how in the midst of crowds readying themselves for the Roman census, the light of the world, the hope of the world, Jesus is born. God becomes vulnerable, human to illumine our world. God is to be “numbered” or counted, unknown to those who will take the census. We now know the barriers that these lights broke, the tiny light flashing from the island but reaching the top of Signal Hill, and the light and hope born in a stable reflecting God's glory.
And that is where I would like to begin tonight, by welcoming the hope that Christmas brings. The American poet Maya Angelou, who died this past year, once wrote a description of love on her Facebook page which we can appropriate as a perfect metaphor for the advent of the Christ child in our world. Substituting the word “Christmas” for the word “love”, we can read it like this: “Christmas recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” And hope, as Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu once said, “is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”
But hope, as the South African theologian, Denise Ackermann, says, “is not that blithe sense that all will end well (or alles sal regkom) because human progress is guaranteed.” To say as Christians that we must live in hope does not imply that we should sit by passively and indulge in wishful thinking for that which has no prospect of being realized to come about. As Denise Ackermann says, “The way I hope should be the way I live. To live out my hope is to try to make that which I hope for come about – sooner rather than later.” It is “a lived reality in the life of faith, here and now.” It is “never to surrender our power to imagine a better world”. Hope confronts wrong and the abuse of power; it is risky and requires patience and endurance.
In our national life, it’s been a difficult year for South Africa. Many times in our daily lives we seem to have been living in a country whose leaders, despite the emancipation of democracy, do not look after the needs of their people. Much of the time those leaders don't seem to have a vision, or any sense of destiny – or even a practical plan they are truly committed to implementing. In what I call the “old” struggle – the struggle for democracy – it was the ability of our leaders to see “the light” ahead that drove them. Nowadays, the new generation of leaders seems to govern without any sense of being guided by that light, or for that matter any light at all. In fact, I get confused by the darkness that our leaders bring as the sun rises every morning.
But did Madiba ever lose a sense of hope in the way I have just described it? Did Robert Sobukwe lose hope? Did Oliver Tambo lose hope? Did Steve Biko? Or Beyers Naude, or Trevor Huddleston? Did my ancestor, Kgoši Mamphoku Makgoba, who was killed while resisting settler incursions on our land, lose hope? We can look and learn from the lives of all of our anti-apartheid heroes and say none of them ever, ever lost hope.
But there is another characteristic they shared that is particularly powerful in converting hope to reality, and that is courage. Courage is like fire. It was courage which ignited the old struggle and kept it burning until we emerged from the darkness of apartheid. Courage enables us to set ourselves, our community and our nation on fire. And it's the light of courage that we need to rekindle this Christmas.
The South Africa that I have been living in these last years has forgotten how to be courageous. We have allowed ourselves to live in and accept a society that is punished, penalized and severely disciplined for being courageous. I had the privilege of being asked by Mama Graça Machel over the last few years of Madiba's life to visit them every now and then in Bishopscourt, in Houghton and in Qunu, and to pray with them. My time with him reminded me of so many of the lessons which he tried to share with us, but none was more important than that encapsulated in these words, which have inspired so many:
“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”
He also reminded me that it also takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. So with his wisdom as guidance, I want to share with you some thoughts for the holidays on this Christmas Eve.
Martin Luther King, Jr. once said that “Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that.” And I might add, courage. Courage and light can break the cycle of poverty, crime and the growing underclass of young people ill equipped to be productive citizens. Only light will enable to us to be repulsed enough by what we see around us to say, “My children and grandchildren deserve better.” Only by being pro-courage can we really be anti-corruption. We truly begin living when we say, “Enough is enough and I want more for my family, my community and my country!” It's at that moment that we step up and take responsibility for not only ourselves but for our country's destiny. It's at that moment that, as I have been saying recently, that we stop being a country of “me” and become a country of “we”.
Our purpose on earth is for all of us to become part of something bigger than ourselves. But we are not living as if we believe that. We become so discouraged about the injustices we see everywhere that we give up and say, “That’s their problem.” We have become a “me”-driven society which accepts and perpetuates the cruel weight of the massive inequalities we have inherited; a “me” society which accepts economic inequality, the service delivery inequality, the healthcare inequality, the education inequality and most seriously, the inequality of opportunity.
At this time of the year, as we celebrate the birth of Christ, how do we channel the joyousness, the spirit of feeling connected with one another into a spirit of reflection which empowers us to focus not on the “me” but rather on the “we”- the body of Christ? How can we use the model of this month's behaviours, attitudes and convictions to define how we live the other 11 months of the year?
The fundamental question being asked of us in South Africa today is: What is the difference between an open-hearted, giving society and an open-handed, taking society? I’d like to ask the question a little differently: What is the difference between an open-hearted life where we see ourselves part of a greater collective community (which I will call heaven on earth) and an open-handed life in which we accept social income without accepting the responsibility for our decisions (which I will describe as hell)?
The answer lies in the Parable of the Long Spoons. It is said that both in heaven and in hell, people are forced to eat with long spoons. In hell, people starve because they are unable to lift food to their mouths using such unwieldy cutlery. But in heaven, each person takes the long spoon and feeds another across the table. And that's how in heaven God ensures, through the actions of those there with him, that everyone has plenty to eat.
In the end, the message is that we should feed, respect and care for each other, both in a practical and collective sense. That is what a genuine community of communities does. Because that is what we are: a community of communities, the baptised – the body of Christ as Paul says. Another word for it is a nation; a “we” society. This is our challenge if we are to channel the joy of this birth as recorded in Luke’s gospel, into the joy of a lifetime.
Many feel that for our nation to have survived under apartheid and to have been reborn was a once-in-a-lifetime miracle. I used to believe that. But not anymore. Our achievements have been gained through struggle, guided by hope and following the light. In our faith, that light is Jesus, who at this time breaks into our lives and gives us courage to break all barriers.
So this Christmas let us commit ourselves to a new struggle; a new struggle for a new generation; a struggle to end the economic inequities and related consumerism, to end the inequalities of service delivery, health care and education – but most of all a struggle to bring about equality of opportunity. Human progress is never guaranteed unless there is struggle. Every step we take towards the goal of ending inequality requires sacrifice, requires suffering, and most of all requires struggle. If there is no struggle, there is no progress. The good news is, as Christians we struggle with a firm hope, that Christ our light and our hope, has already triumphed and broken all barriers.
So whether “in this Roman census”, you are recorded as being 20, 30, 40, 50, 60 or 70 years old, the question is, do you have the courage to take up this challenge? Are you ready to define your children's destinies? Then, metaphorically speaking, light up your lamps and become bearers of hope this Christmas season.
God bless you, your family and South Africa, and may you have a blessed Christmas.
Luke 2:1-20
May I speak in the name of God who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen
A couple of days after my birthday earlier this month, our children drove me up Signal Hill. As usual there were a lot of people up there and, as the children wandered around the hill, I stood watching the sea. It was dusk, the sea was calm and it seemed to be enveloping us. As I looked out, the intermittent flashing of the Robben Island lighthouse could not be missed, and I could not resist the temptation to recall that the island from which that tiny light was flashing was where Madiba and his compatriots languished in darkness for years. Yet this is where the hope of our country was ignited. And as the sun set and it grew darker, the tiny light became even more visible than before.
Our Gospel reading evokes an image of how in the midst of crowds readying themselves for the Roman census, the light of the world, the hope of the world, Jesus is born. God becomes vulnerable, human to illumine our world. God is to be “numbered” or counted, unknown to those who will take the census. We now know the barriers that these lights broke, the tiny light flashing from the island but reaching the top of Signal Hill, and the light and hope born in a stable reflecting God's glory.
And that is where I would like to begin tonight, by welcoming the hope that Christmas brings. The American poet Maya Angelou, who died this past year, once wrote a description of love on her Facebook page which we can appropriate as a perfect metaphor for the advent of the Christ child in our world. Substituting the word “Christmas” for the word “love”, we can read it like this: “Christmas recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” And hope, as Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu once said, “is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”
But hope, as the South African theologian, Denise Ackermann, says, “is not that blithe sense that all will end well (or alles sal regkom) because human progress is guaranteed.” To say as Christians that we must live in hope does not imply that we should sit by passively and indulge in wishful thinking for that which has no prospect of being realized to come about. As Denise Ackermann says, “The way I hope should be the way I live. To live out my hope is to try to make that which I hope for come about – sooner rather than later.” It is “a lived reality in the life of faith, here and now.” It is “never to surrender our power to imagine a better world”. Hope confronts wrong and the abuse of power; it is risky and requires patience and endurance.
In our national life, it’s been a difficult year for South Africa. Many times in our daily lives we seem to have been living in a country whose leaders, despite the emancipation of democracy, do not look after the needs of their people. Much of the time those leaders don't seem to have a vision, or any sense of destiny – or even a practical plan they are truly committed to implementing. In what I call the “old” struggle – the struggle for democracy – it was the ability of our leaders to see “the light” ahead that drove them. Nowadays, the new generation of leaders seems to govern without any sense of being guided by that light, or for that matter any light at all. In fact, I get confused by the darkness that our leaders bring as the sun rises every morning.
But did Madiba ever lose a sense of hope in the way I have just described it? Did Robert Sobukwe lose hope? Did Oliver Tambo lose hope? Did Steve Biko? Or Beyers Naude, or Trevor Huddleston? Did my ancestor, Kgoši Mamphoku Makgoba, who was killed while resisting settler incursions on our land, lose hope? We can look and learn from the lives of all of our anti-apartheid heroes and say none of them ever, ever lost hope.
But there is another characteristic they shared that is particularly powerful in converting hope to reality, and that is courage. Courage is like fire. It was courage which ignited the old struggle and kept it burning until we emerged from the darkness of apartheid. Courage enables us to set ourselves, our community and our nation on fire. And it's the light of courage that we need to rekindle this Christmas.
The South Africa that I have been living in these last years has forgotten how to be courageous. We have allowed ourselves to live in and accept a society that is punished, penalized and severely disciplined for being courageous. I had the privilege of being asked by Mama Graça Machel over the last few years of Madiba's life to visit them every now and then in Bishopscourt, in Houghton and in Qunu, and to pray with them. My time with him reminded me of so many of the lessons which he tried to share with us, but none was more important than that encapsulated in these words, which have inspired so many:
“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”
He also reminded me that it also takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. So with his wisdom as guidance, I want to share with you some thoughts for the holidays on this Christmas Eve.
Martin Luther King, Jr. once said that “Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that.” And I might add, courage. Courage and light can break the cycle of poverty, crime and the growing underclass of young people ill equipped to be productive citizens. Only light will enable to us to be repulsed enough by what we see around us to say, “My children and grandchildren deserve better.” Only by being pro-courage can we really be anti-corruption. We truly begin living when we say, “Enough is enough and I want more for my family, my community and my country!” It's at that moment that we step up and take responsibility for not only ourselves but for our country's destiny. It's at that moment that, as I have been saying recently, that we stop being a country of “me” and become a country of “we”.
Our purpose on earth is for all of us to become part of something bigger than ourselves. But we are not living as if we believe that. We become so discouraged about the injustices we see everywhere that we give up and say, “That’s their problem.” We have become a “me”-driven society which accepts and perpetuates the cruel weight of the massive inequalities we have inherited; a “me” society which accepts economic inequality, the service delivery inequality, the healthcare inequality, the education inequality and most seriously, the inequality of opportunity.
At this time of the year, as we celebrate the birth of Christ, how do we channel the joyousness, the spirit of feeling connected with one another into a spirit of reflection which empowers us to focus not on the “me” but rather on the “we”- the body of Christ? How can we use the model of this month's behaviours, attitudes and convictions to define how we live the other 11 months of the year?
The fundamental question being asked of us in South Africa today is: What is the difference between an open-hearted, giving society and an open-handed, taking society? I’d like to ask the question a little differently: What is the difference between an open-hearted life where we see ourselves part of a greater collective community (which I will call heaven on earth) and an open-handed life in which we accept social income without accepting the responsibility for our decisions (which I will describe as hell)?
The answer lies in the Parable of the Long Spoons. It is said that both in heaven and in hell, people are forced to eat with long spoons. In hell, people starve because they are unable to lift food to their mouths using such unwieldy cutlery. But in heaven, each person takes the long spoon and feeds another across the table. And that's how in heaven God ensures, through the actions of those there with him, that everyone has plenty to eat.
In the end, the message is that we should feed, respect and care for each other, both in a practical and collective sense. That is what a genuine community of communities does. Because that is what we are: a community of communities, the baptised – the body of Christ as Paul says. Another word for it is a nation; a “we” society. This is our challenge if we are to channel the joy of this birth as recorded in Luke’s gospel, into the joy of a lifetime.
Many feel that for our nation to have survived under apartheid and to have been reborn was a once-in-a-lifetime miracle. I used to believe that. But not anymore. Our achievements have been gained through struggle, guided by hope and following the light. In our faith, that light is Jesus, who at this time breaks into our lives and gives us courage to break all barriers.
So this Christmas let us commit ourselves to a new struggle; a new struggle for a new generation; a struggle to end the economic inequities and related consumerism, to end the inequalities of service delivery, health care and education – but most of all a struggle to bring about equality of opportunity. Human progress is never guaranteed unless there is struggle. Every step we take towards the goal of ending inequality requires sacrifice, requires suffering, and most of all requires struggle. If there is no struggle, there is no progress. The good news is, as Christians we struggle with a firm hope, that Christ our light and our hope, has already triumphed and broken all barriers.
So whether “in this Roman census”, you are recorded as being 20, 30, 40, 50, 60 or 70 years old, the question is, do you have the courage to take up this challenge? Are you ready to define your children's destinies? Then, metaphorically speaking, light up your lamps and become bearers of hope this Christmas season.
God bless you, your family and South Africa, and may you have a blessed Christmas.
Sunday, 18 August 2013
Our dream will survive Marikana
This is the Sunday Independent opinion column from 18 August 2013
Our horror derives from our belief that such things should never happen in the new South Africa, says Thabo Makgoba.
Cape Town - ‘Where were you when you heard about…?” Different generations are marked by how they complete the sentence: Sharpeville, the assassination of President John F Kennedy or of Martin Luther King, the moon landing, the unbanning of political parties, Nelson Mandela’s release, 9/11. But there can hardly be any South African who was untouched by the traumatic scenes at Marikana a year ago. The whole nation was rocked to its core. Surely this is a thing of the past, we said. Surely this cannot happen in the new South Africa. But it did. And where are we now, a year on?
I believe we must acknowledge that we have not done all that we could or should have in response to the terrible tragedy, both for those directly concerned and for the life of the nation and our sense of who we are, as South Africans, and who we want to become.
Anglicans have been engaged on various levels. I have visited Marikana, and contributed to the memorial service. Other clergy have been involved. Bishop Jo Seoka of Pretoria was trying to bring mediation at the time of the shootings, gave evidence to the commission headed by Judge Ian Farlam (himself a faithful Anglican), and continues to be active, including in his role as president of the SA Council of Churches. Through the council and with other partners, we have offered assistance, especially spiritually, wherever we can. We have tried to bring pastoral care to the bereaved, injured and traumatised. We have also distributed food parcels, clothes and other material help – some of which was given by generous donors from outside our churches. We have aimed to walk with all those affected, and to support processes which promote healing and wholeness, further justice, and create new and better future realities.
But despite the hard work, dedication and perseverance of many, we are a long way short of where we would like to be. We have so far failed in pressing the government to fund the lawyers representing the families of the dead miners at the Farlam Commission. We could have worked harder to promote a national climate in which all of us share a broad consensus that encourages more widespread and urgent action, and not only in Marikana. For it seems we have fallen into complacency. Too many reports of violence of one sort or another on our televisions have numbed us to the enormity of what happened at Marikana. We have become spectators of the Farlam Commission, watching as distanced onlookers.
It is not just that those at Lonmin – employers, unions, police, and other involved parties – need to act. While there were particular complexities and tensions around last year’s events, they were the tip of a vast iceberg that extends across our nation. Issues of pay and conditions, living environments, union rivalries, labour brokers, old employment patterns for local and migrant workers (and their families) that may no longer suit today’s circumstances, tensions with police, loan sharks… these issues and more besides surface in different guises around the country. Many of us are touched, and far more of us should act. This range of longstanding, underlying, running sores within the wider mining sector and across so many other industries is only exacerbated by time.
There are clear lessons that can already be learnt from Marikana, and acted upon. There are simple win-win actions that would benefit everyone involved. One example is ensuring workers are educated in the basics of managing their finances, of understanding how to read their pay slips, of grasping the dangers of loan sharks and being wise to more sensible options, and of knowing what are the best courses of action should they fall into debt.
Another area that concerns me is of companies and individuals who pursue social responsibility and philanthropic programmes without first putting their own houses in order. Too many of these programmes address the symptoms of poverty rather than the causes. Ensuring decent, living wages and working conditions should be a far higher priority. Wage increases in line with inflation are justifiable only if they start from a baseline of just and fair remuneration – whereas we know that we inherited from the past some vastly skewed inequalities within the employment sector.
Honest, open debate – with egos put to one side – must always take precedence over violence. People’s lives and their basic needs must be put before profits, before politics, before power, before inter-union rivalries, before arguments over hierarchies of guilt and innocence.
Yet, I’m not without hope. For the shock waves which ran through the nation should actually be a reassurance that we have assumed a better life for all. Our horror derives from our belief that such things should never happen in the new South Africa. So we should take heart that the vision of 1994 still burns within us, and we should all keep fanning this flame. The transition to political and economic emancipation was never going to be easy.
This is a month for dreaming. August 28 sees the 50th anniversary of the march on Washington, when Martin Luther King delivered his magnificent “I have a dream” speech. As he turned to speak of his dream of everyone sitting together at the table of brotherhood, he first encouraged the crowd: “Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.”
Last year’s events were terrible – but we still have a dream, a deeply rooted South African dream. Let us not be tempted to wallow in despair, but let us keep on dreaming, and pray and work to make our dream live.
http://www.iol.co.za/sundayindependent/our-dream-will-survive-marikana-1.1564019
Our horror derives from our belief that such things should never happen in the new South Africa, says Thabo Makgoba.
Cape Town - ‘Where were you when you heard about…?” Different generations are marked by how they complete the sentence: Sharpeville, the assassination of President John F Kennedy or of Martin Luther King, the moon landing, the unbanning of political parties, Nelson Mandela’s release, 9/11. But there can hardly be any South African who was untouched by the traumatic scenes at Marikana a year ago. The whole nation was rocked to its core. Surely this is a thing of the past, we said. Surely this cannot happen in the new South Africa. But it did. And where are we now, a year on?
I believe we must acknowledge that we have not done all that we could or should have in response to the terrible tragedy, both for those directly concerned and for the life of the nation and our sense of who we are, as South Africans, and who we want to become.
Anglicans have been engaged on various levels. I have visited Marikana, and contributed to the memorial service. Other clergy have been involved. Bishop Jo Seoka of Pretoria was trying to bring mediation at the time of the shootings, gave evidence to the commission headed by Judge Ian Farlam (himself a faithful Anglican), and continues to be active, including in his role as president of the SA Council of Churches. Through the council and with other partners, we have offered assistance, especially spiritually, wherever we can. We have tried to bring pastoral care to the bereaved, injured and traumatised. We have also distributed food parcels, clothes and other material help – some of which was given by generous donors from outside our churches. We have aimed to walk with all those affected, and to support processes which promote healing and wholeness, further justice, and create new and better future realities.
But despite the hard work, dedication and perseverance of many, we are a long way short of where we would like to be. We have so far failed in pressing the government to fund the lawyers representing the families of the dead miners at the Farlam Commission. We could have worked harder to promote a national climate in which all of us share a broad consensus that encourages more widespread and urgent action, and not only in Marikana. For it seems we have fallen into complacency. Too many reports of violence of one sort or another on our televisions have numbed us to the enormity of what happened at Marikana. We have become spectators of the Farlam Commission, watching as distanced onlookers.
It is not just that those at Lonmin – employers, unions, police, and other involved parties – need to act. While there were particular complexities and tensions around last year’s events, they were the tip of a vast iceberg that extends across our nation. Issues of pay and conditions, living environments, union rivalries, labour brokers, old employment patterns for local and migrant workers (and their families) that may no longer suit today’s circumstances, tensions with police, loan sharks… these issues and more besides surface in different guises around the country. Many of us are touched, and far more of us should act. This range of longstanding, underlying, running sores within the wider mining sector and across so many other industries is only exacerbated by time.
There are clear lessons that can already be learnt from Marikana, and acted upon. There are simple win-win actions that would benefit everyone involved. One example is ensuring workers are educated in the basics of managing their finances, of understanding how to read their pay slips, of grasping the dangers of loan sharks and being wise to more sensible options, and of knowing what are the best courses of action should they fall into debt.
Another area that concerns me is of companies and individuals who pursue social responsibility and philanthropic programmes without first putting their own houses in order. Too many of these programmes address the symptoms of poverty rather than the causes. Ensuring decent, living wages and working conditions should be a far higher priority. Wage increases in line with inflation are justifiable only if they start from a baseline of just and fair remuneration – whereas we know that we inherited from the past some vastly skewed inequalities within the employment sector.
Honest, open debate – with egos put to one side – must always take precedence over violence. People’s lives and their basic needs must be put before profits, before politics, before power, before inter-union rivalries, before arguments over hierarchies of guilt and innocence.
Yet, I’m not without hope. For the shock waves which ran through the nation should actually be a reassurance that we have assumed a better life for all. Our horror derives from our belief that such things should never happen in the new South Africa. So we should take heart that the vision of 1994 still burns within us, and we should all keep fanning this flame. The transition to political and economic emancipation was never going to be easy.
This is a month for dreaming. August 28 sees the 50th anniversary of the march on Washington, when Martin Luther King delivered his magnificent “I have a dream” speech. As he turned to speak of his dream of everyone sitting together at the table of brotherhood, he first encouraged the crowd: “Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.”
Last year’s events were terrible – but we still have a dream, a deeply rooted South African dream. Let us not be tempted to wallow in despair, but let us keep on dreaming, and pray and work to make our dream live.
http://www.iol.co.za/sundayindependent/our-dream-will-survive-marikana-1.1564019
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