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.

Address to the Annual Prizegiving of Herschel School

Address to the Annual Prizegiving of Herschel Girls School, Cape Town, October 15, 2014:

Good evening, girls!  Good evening, parents! And good evening to the whole school community: girls, parents, teachers, headmaster, other members of staff, and members of Council.  Thank you Mr West and Council for inviting me to speak tonight, it is an honour indeed.

It's such a joy to be here again for a formal school occasion. Congratulations to you all for your achievements in the past year, individually and collectively: to the prize-winners of course, to the soon-to-be matriculants whose time here is coming to an end, but also to every single one of you.  For each one of you is a winner, because each one of you is equally part of this community of achievement, of this body that is Herschel School. And you remember how St. Paul describes a body in his First Letter to the Corinthians? He says "the body does not consist of one member but of many" and that every single member belongs to the body, and that, to quote him again, “God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose.”

In similar vein, your achievements are not only yours' but they are the achievements of everyone who has supported you over the past year. So, in recognition of that, why don't you the girls, applaud them? First, let's applaud your teachers and the staff and governing body of the school who support them. And now, let's applaud your parents, your grandparents, other members of your family and the cloud of witnesses – your great-grandparents and ancestors – who are looking down on us today!

In the past year, we have seen women and girls in the news in a range of ways that I can't remember seeing before. We have seen stories of pain and despair which are testimony to the ways in which our society continues to disrespect and abuse women, but we have also seen stories of strength and moral courage in which they have demonstrated their resilience and their capacity to triumph over adversity. Let's look at just three examples.

The first is the story of Reeva Steenkamp and our response to her killing. Now I know that Judge Masipa's finding means that we cannot say with a certainty that is beyond reasonable doubt that Reeva's death was a manifestation of how women are abused in South Africa. We need to respect the finding of an experienced judge, who listened to all the evidence, that Oscar Pistorius's explanation of what happened that night might reasonably possibly have been true. But at the very least, we can say that the case, and the arguments around what happened, have put the issue of domestic abuse front and centre on the country's agenda. And that is a good thing, because if you speak to clergy in our communities – who by the nature of our ministry are privileged to hear people's confidences – they will tell you that domestic abuse, and especially the abuse of women and children by men, is one of the greatest of the hidden evils of our society, and that it happens in both poor and wealthy communities.

The second example is the abduction, six months ago last night, of more than 200 girls from the town of Chibok in north-eastern Nigeria by members of the Boko Haram group. That event may seem far removed from South Africa, and in many ways it is, but the growth of movements of extremist thugs – I won't dignify them by calling them religious because the ideas they propagate are a perversion of religion....  the phenomenon of extremist thuggery is something that as global citizens we must oppose everywhere. And the phenomenon is not confined to Nigeria or West Africa; it is emerging among disparate, uncoordinated groups in East Africa, North Africa and the Middle East as well, and it poses a challenge which we dare not underestimate.

Those of you who are history students will know that this year marks the centenary of the outbreak of World War One. Margaret MacMillan, a Canadian who is the warden of St Antony’s College, Oxford, says that one of the reasons we stumbled into that war, and that so many people died in it, was that our forebears miscalculated the significance of changes in the nature of warfare. Applying those lessons to our situation today, 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… drones and cruise missiles… carpet bombing and armoured divisions – resulting in conflicts that will be short and limited in their impact, and victories that will be decisive.” 

But she notes that far from seeing easy victories, we are seeing wars with no clear outcomes involving what she calls “a shifting coalition of local warlords, religious warriors and other interested parties” across countries and continents.

The third example to which I want to refer tonight is – you will be thankful to hear – an inspiring one and that is the story of Thuli Madonsela. Isn't it wonderful to listen to her on television laying down the law, not loudly and bombastically as men often do, but in soft, gentle tones?  They say that President Theodore Roosevelt of America, a man's man if ever there was one, used to say that a leader should "speak softly and carry a big stick," and even our beloved Madiba was won’t to instinctively respond to certain situations by reaching for his big stick. But I think we can coin a new phrase about Thuli and say: "She speaks softly and carries the Constitution."

It has struck me recently that one of the major obstacles to solving our problems in South Africa is that we have become a “me” society instead of a “we” society. We ask too often, what are “my” needs and aspirations, not what are “our” needs and aspirations. For South Africa to flourish, we need to move from “me” to “we”, asking not what I can do, but what we can do, together, to meet not my needs, but our needs, and to work for the common good.

How do we, then, as the body of Herschel, demonstrate our refusal to succumb to fear or to become inured to suffering? How do we use our collective capacity for good, our privileges, our inherent love and goodness, to challenge violence, whether domestic, individualised or collective, and corruption? How do we use our innovation, creativity, and even our essay-writing skills, to highlight the problems of our day? How do we demonstrate the values of Herschel?  Let me briefly suggest a few places we might start.

Let us commit to addressing the cancer of domestic abuse within our society, helping those who suffer to overcome the paralysis induced by shame and often by their continued love for the perpetrator, and to act to protect themselves.

Let us continue to express our outrage at the holding hostage of the Chibok girls, and let's commit to remove the conditions in our country and beyond which are conducive to the growth of extremism. If we do business with Nigeria or other countries in Africa, let us not collude with the misallocation of resources in those countries.

In South Africa, let us acknowledge that our failure to end the desperate conditions in which many of our people live can create the conditions for an explosion, and let us join efforts started by those including Prof George Ellis and former mayor Gordon Oliver to face up to the crisis. The Department of Human Settlements reported last year that we still have a backlog of about 2.1-million houses. Even if people have houses, about 2.5 million of them don't have proper toilets. My daughter gets embarrassed when I call myself the "toilet archbishop", but I am compelled to campaign on this issue: a report from the Water Research Commission says only one in three households in Khayelitsha have yard and in-house water and sanitation facilities. About seven in 10 depend largely on communal taps or "stand pipes" for water and have inadequate or no access to sanitation. In parts of the Free State, the Northern Cape and even here in the Western Cape, many people still have to use buckets to remove human waste from their homes.

Let us also join Thuli Madonsela in fighting corruption, rigorously evaluating the energy deal with Russia lest we slap our children and grandchildren with huge bills to pay in their adulthood.

Let us also work for ecological justice, starting with recycling our domestic waste at home.

Let me end on a note of celebration of you and your achievements, and on a note of challenge very specific to Herschel. We have a wonderful school. The quality of your education is attested to by tonight's prizes and your impressive history of outstanding matric results. On behalf of the Diocese and my own behalf, congratulations!

But, as Jesus says in St. Luke's Gospel: "From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required." At the Western Province Prep School's Centenary Celebration earlier this year, I challenged them to adopt an equity policy and to establish bursaries to attract more black students and more black teachers. Tonight I want to take this opportunity to make the same call on you.

You are a first-class, Christian, value-based school of excellence. I appeal to you to extend the fine work you already do so that it reaches even further into our communities, giving the opportunities we enjoy to even more students, whether from privileged backgrounds or not. Join our church and our Anglican Board of Education in addressing South Africa's educational challenges. Join us in repudiating cynicism, fear and the feeling of being overwhelmed by our country's problems, and help us in our determination to bring about change.

I ask of you, to go into your resources, dig deep into these, and establish an endowment for recruiting more black teachers and bursaries for more black learners. Mr West and Council, that is my plea and more specific a challenge to the school community

Thank you, congratulations again, and God bless you!

+Thabo Makgoba