'If you want Peace, you must work for Justice' - Rubin Phillip Peace Lecture

The third Rubin Phillip Peace Lecture was delivered on 11 November at the Church of St John the Baptist, Pinetown, following Sung Evensong.

Isaiah 2:1-5, Rom 12:9-21

Scripture says, ‘Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.’

May I speak in the name of God, who delights to teach us his ways, so we may walk in paths of righteousness and peace.

Dear Bishop Rubin, dear brothers and sisters in Christ, dear friends, it is a great honour to be with you. I am deeply grateful for the invitation to give the Third Bishop Rubin Phillip Peace Lecture.

My theme is ‘If you want peace, you must work for justice.’ Bishop Rubin has embodied the reality of this assertion for many, many years. His life is itself a sermon that speaks far more loudly than any words I could offer. Yet you have nonetheless asked me here to share some words – so let me begin with words of Jesus.

As St John records, the first words of the risen Christ to the disciples in the upper room are these: ‘Peace be with you.’ God’s peace is at the heart of Scripture. The New Testament Greek word for peace is the same word used in the Septuagint, to translate the Old Testament Hebrew word ‘Shalom.’ It is to the concept shalom we must look, if we want to understand what peace really means. The shalom of God goes far beyond those thin meanings of contemporary English which convey a mere lack of active conflict or noisy disturbance.

The prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel have shalom in mind, when they denounce political and religious leaders for speaking of ‘Peace, peace’ when ‘there is no peace’ (Jer 6:14, 8:11 Ezek 13:10). Superficial peace is hypocrisy and worse, when it is not allied with justice. So bad is the situation, says Jeremiah, that society from top to bottom is consumed with greed for unjust gain, by bribery and immorality, with such a total lack of shame, it is as if people have forgotten how to blush!

God’s shalom does not rest upon external appearances. It entails comprehensive well-being, through and through, that comes from everything being truly ‘all right’. It comes with healing, wholeness, redemption, reconciliation, and abundant, flourishing, life. As our readings recounted, shalom is found where war is replaced by just and lasting peace. Weapons are not merely laid aside, but nonetheless readily at hand if once again required. Rather, enduring settlement means all sides are confident that conflict is overcome for good – and swords can become ploughshares. Shalom is also experienced where love is genuine, evil rejected, and good upheld. It comes in honouring others, generosity towards the needy, hospitality to strangers, through forgiveness and rejecting cycles of revenge. It comes through subverting wrongs through acts of kindness. Shalom is the good that overcomes evil.

Peace and justice are merely two sides of the same coin. Without justice, there cannot be shalom, there cannot be true peace. Peace demands that justice is done, and seen to be done.

This requires injustice to be brought to light, and named for what it is. Therefore, I am encouraged by the reported remarks of Deputy President Motlanthe this week, that the Government is considering a public interest defence clause within the Protection of Information Bill. This is absolutely necessary. Justice and peace cannot flourish where truth is distorted, suppressed, or subordinated to any interests other than the genuine common good, that reflects shalom.

I am proud to be part of the Press Freedom Commission, set up under the chairmanship of Justice Pius Langa, to review best practice and regulation within the print media. An effective free press, and the ability of all to speak truth to power, is indispensible to successful constitutional democracy.

I want to underline how the South African Constitution provides an excellent framework, within which every citizen can potentially live with genuine peace and justice. The overarching objectives of the Constitution’s Preamble include the following objectives: to ‘heal the divisions of the past and establish a society based on democratic values, social justice and fundamental human rights’; to ‘lay the foundations for a democratic and open society in which government is based on the will of the people and every citizen is equally protected by law’; and to ‘improve the quality of life of all citizens and free the potential of each person’.

There is poetry in that last phrase: ‘to free the potential of each person’. It echoes the fundamental purposes of creation and salvation, which is, in the words of Jesus, that we ‘might have life, and have it abundantly’ (Jn 10:10). Therefore Christians, faith communities, and all people of good will should wholeheartedly support the fullest possible expression of constitutional democracy, as one very concrete way of promoting justice, true peace and abundant life.

We must also ask what forms justice and shalom peace might take within our own contexts, when made concrete within our communities. Sometimes it is easier to recognise their absence. Then we must speak out, and actively oppose all that is unjust. We must do as Bishop Rubin has done: for example, in relation to land reform, events in Kennedy Road, and Zimbabwe. Rubin, thank you for showing us that people cannot be displaced for political expediency; that patronage cannot outweigh human rights; that arbitrary detention cannot replace due legal process; that we cannot turn blind eyes to international sanctions breaches; and that everywhere, wrong must be replaced with right.

Evil must be overcome with good. Therefore, we must provide a positive vision of what we might strive towards. For, though we must always resist injustice, it will not do only to be ‘against’. We must also be ‘for’.

As politicians have found over 17 years of democracy, breaking down is far easier than building up. The struggle to overcome apartheid was hard, and bitter, and long. But the struggle to breathe life into the Constitution, so that its heartfelt provisions for the good of all are truly realised by every citizen of our country, is in many ways a greater challenge. It was never going to be otherwise – especially overcoming past economic injustices and their continuing legacies – particularly in education and employment.

Here I want to sound a warning in relation to yesterday’s ANC’s judgement against Julius Malema. Julius Malema is not wrong when he cries out for the youth of today – when he calls for justice in education, in employment, in opportunity, in economic emancipation and empowerment. But he is wrong in how he thinks these can be achieved; and in leading others to believe in unworkable solutions; and in encouraging protests that reinforce destructive, not constructive, engagement.

We must ask ourselves – what could true shalom look like, for Julius Malema? What might justice and peace be, for the tens, even hundreds, of thousands like him – that lost generation, who were given an education that left them with qualifications that are little better than useless; and then tossed out into an economy where there are so very few opportunities to make an honest, decent, living, on which they could support a family, and raise children for a better future?

We must promote honest debate around such questions. It will not do for politicians to promise a brighter future, which they cannot deliver. Nor will it do to focus their energies on acquiring and retaining power, rather than the tasks for which they are elected. There must be a sense of urgency in tackling areas of greatest need, where shalom is most lacking. Justice delayed truly is justice denied.

This urgency must be borne first by government and the public sector, whose primary responsibility it is. But it must be shared by the rest of us – churches, faith communities, civil society – and by the private sector, the media, academia, everyone. In a democracy, citizens must ensure that politicians have the great weight of public opinion pressing them to do what is right. We must demand public accountability; and require good governance not only throughout government, but in all our dealings with one another – for example, as in the King Reports, and in the application of their principles to every area of nation and society.

When it comes to offering more concrete engagement than merely saying ‘do better, do better’, Jesus’ life and teaching provide many resources for us to understand the shape of shalom for today – at every level from the global to nations, businesses, neighbourhoods and families. For example, St Luke’s gospel records how Jesus, after his baptism, and wrestling in the wilderness to understand the true nature of the promised Messiah, comes to Nazareth. In the synagogue he reads a passage from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, which might be seen as the ‘manifesto’ for the Messiah, the Christ (Lk 4:18,19). He read, ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.’ Jesus addresses whatever impoverishes, whatever imprisons, oppresses or blinds – including whatever blinds us to the truth of how things really are. He brings true enrichment, freedom, liberty, clear-sightedness.

Churches must meet the challenge of providing deeper theological reflection on economic issues, especially resourcing those who deal with these in their daily lives. We need only to read our Bibles with fresh eyes, to recognise there are far more verses about money, riches and poverty, economic justice, business ethics and so forth, than about prayer!

So let us intentionally ask, within our own context, what is poverty; and how does this understanding impact on policy-making? How do we promote true values, that are not measured in financial greed, rampant materialism, conspicuous consumption, and credit-card living? How do we avoid temptations to corruption, and the enrichment of connected individuals and elites, and so forth?

What does economic justice mean for balancing short term gains with long term consequences? Or for post-colonial Africa, and the future we say we are trying to build? What does it mean for selling raw mineral resources to China; or foreign investment in agriculture that results in exported food and biofuels while our own people go hungry? – two sorts of new economic colonialism in which greedy politicians and business people are too often complicit.

And what about energy usage, and activities that impact upon the climate and other aspects of our environment, including COP-17? I hope I will see you all – together with your friends, neighbours, colleagues – in the King’s Park Stadium on 27 November. I hope you are collecting signatures to ensure we have a petition of over a million names, calling for clear, just yet ambitious, legally binding commitments, to safeguard our planet’s future.

We need better overarching global economics – based on just stewardship of a finite world; and not fatally flawed theories of limitless resources and growth. We also need a better theology of work – fundamental to human dignity, and part of what it means to bear the image of God who laboured fruitfully in creation.

One of my father’s great sayings was: “Ha hona kgomo ya boroko.” You cannot get a cow through laziness. He taught me the value of hard work, to be grateful for opportunities to work, and to earn that cow! Now it seems that having connections and partying with the right people are the best way to get a cow – though this contributes nothing to growing a healthy economy for the future.

We must understand what promotes and sustains economic injustice. The Scottish Poverty Truth Commission recently proposed four fundamental causes:

‘First, poverty is structural, being systemic to the distribution of power, resources and educational opportunities in society. Second, it is a form of violence that comes from a deficit of empathy between those who have much and those who have little. Third, it is intergenerational, with its life-crippling seeds getting passed on in early childhood. And fourth, it is sustained by blindness to the full humanity of one another, showing it to be a pathology of the rich and not just a deficit of the poor.’

Powerful language. They go on to say that quick fixes are not enough. We need an evolution in human consciousness and identity, rooted in acknowledging the truth of where we are, and where we need to go. ‘Truth’ they say, ‘is an active power for change. Reconciliation is what brings us back together again in our common humanity … Truth and reconciliation are about seeking that which gives life. Life as love made manifest.’

Yes indeed – life lived as love made manifest will inevitably be directed towards the justice that brings lasting peace. Tonight in Pinetown, we are challenged to consider how to make love manifest within this Church and the wider community. This evening is a fund-raiser to resource your ability to make God’s love manifest, promoting justice and peace, in Pinetown. We need to do more than talk about poverty, and put our money where our mouth is!

As Archbishop, I have encountered poverty on a scale I had never imagined – for all the hardships of my childhood in Alexandra and Pimville. Yet, in absolute destitution, I have encountered sacrificial giving that blew my mind – and, frankly, left me ashamed of the comforts I enjoy. Here are two examples. In Zimbabwe, in October, I gave an apple to a man begging – and then watched him share it with four others. In Mozambique, in June, a woman gave me two small pigeons – of the four she possessed, she gave me two. And she gave me two newly laid eggs.

I was left speechless by the power of seeing before me what Jesus showed his disciples in the temple. The widow gave her tiny mite, her few cents – but she gave generously, sacrificially, of all she had. It was immeasurably greater than any gift offered from our confortable surplus. This woman, this man, demonstrated the enormous courage of their faith – their belief that God’s shalom will indeed uphold them, if they live with the unconditional generosity which Scripture teaches.

Jesus, who gave his whole life, is our model, our inspiration, and as the one who, in saying to us ‘follow me’, also empowers us to live like him. Here again, I want to pay tribute to Bishop Rubin – and to Rose also – for living with great courage, in the face of great personal tragedies; but never afraid to keep on speaking and acting to bring the live-giving, enriching, good news of Jesus Christ wherever there is poverty and oppression.

Rooting ourselves in Jesus – ‘putting on Christ’, and ‘having the mind of Christ’ – will help us pursue more fully a life bringing justice and shalom peace. Christ is our model, for modelling to the world how all should live. We need not just to say, but to show, for example, what Christ-like leadership means. Jesus the Messiah, King of kings and Lord of lords, came ‘not to be served, but to serve’.

Service, not self-interest, must be our goal too. Alongside courageously speaking truth to power, and raising our voices on behalf of the voiceless, we must also affirm the powerless. We must not speak or act in ways that patronise, that imply we know better than others what are their wants and needs and aspirations, or that take over their struggle. Rather, we must walk with others – listen, support, create space and opportunity, and then stand back. We must honour others with the dignity and respect we like to receive; and with the humility of knowing that to feed the hungry, tend the sick, house the homeless, clothe the naked, is to serve Jesus Christ himself (Mt 25).

Dear friends, Jesus calls us to follow him, in loving our enemies and blessing those who persecute; in bringing his good news to the poor and proclaiming liberty to the oppressed; in overcoming evil with good. And, best of all, we are not to do this in our own strength – for, how could we? Jesus – the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, by whose wounds we are healed – he is the one who guarantees the victory of justice and righteousness; he alone is the Prince of Peace.

So then, as our Old Testament reading exhorted us, O house of Jacob, O people of Pinetown, O citizens of South Africa, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord! May it be so. Amen.

Sermon for the Prince of Wales and Duchess of Cornwall - Righteousness like an Ever-Flowing Stream

This sermon was preached at St George's Cathedral on 6 November 2011, at a service of Morning Prayer, attended by Their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall.

May I speak in the name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit – Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer of Life.

The lessons set for this morning have given us Jesus’ parable of the wise and foolish bridesmaids, awaiting the arrival of the groom. I suspect that in this year of royal weddings, you, Your Royal Highnesses, know rather more than most of us, about quite how much preparation such occasions require. It even crossed my mind, Sir, that I should perhaps cede the pulpit to you! But let me instead add my welcome to that of the Dean – greeting you on behalf of not only my wife Lungi and myself, but the whole Anglican Church of Southern Africa. May your time with us, this morning and throughout your visit, be richly blessed.

Jesus’ call to ‘stay awake’ and ‘be prepared’ is of course not merely for wedding guests. This is one of his parables of the end of time, when the Son of Man comes in glory but also with judgement. In using such stories to convey eternal mysteries beyond the grasp of secular language, Jesus’ message is nonetheless clear. For everyone, there will be a final reckoning. All of us must give account of ourselves, and of the lives we have lived. Therefore the daily choices we make – the paths we follow, our actions, our words, our attitudes – should be shaped by the knowledge that one day the Son of Man, the bridegroom, Jesus Christ himself, will come, and we must be ready.

Yet Jesus not only speaks of coming at the end of the age. He also promises to be with us always, from now until that time (Mt 28:20). Therefore we must remain awake, like the wise bridesmaids: supplied with oil, and alert to recognise the groom whenever, wherever, he appears – ready to shine their lamps so all may see him. We are to draw attention to the active presence of Christ in our world, so that others may also recognise him, and find his infinite love, and with it, his compassion, his redemption, his forgiveness, his healing, his strength, his courage, his peace. For God dearly longs to meet humanity’s deepest needs, whatever they may be, far more than any of us can imagine.

Perhaps some of you will ask me then, ‘Archbishop, what then is this oil, and how do we keep our supplies replenished, ready to shine?’ The answer, dear friends, lies in prayer; in reading and reflecting on God’s Holy Word; and in resting in meditation, in God’s presence – in the sunshine of God’s love – whether in the daily rhythms of private prayer or in the formal worship of Sunday services.

On this, we must take guidance from our first reading. Amos, the shepherd of Tekoa, was a prophet from way outside Jerusalem’s politico-religious elite. After pronouncing judgement on the surrounding nations, Amos shockingly uttered similar condemnation against Jerusalem’s leaders too. In the words the High Commissioner read for us, Amos denounced their grand religious observances as hypocrisy. They will find, he says, that on the Day of the Lord, God will not – as they expect – bring great joy, and triumph over their adversaries. Instead, like the foolish bridesmaids, they will be judged, found wanting, and rejected.

For – as Amos’ says elsewhere – the powerful oppress the poor, pursuing corruption and perverting justice for their own gain. Their religion is empty – whereas it should overflow with the things of God: justice rolling down like waters, and righteousness like an everlasting stream. And however impressive this Cathedral building, however glorious our music, or splendid our liturgy – it too is meaningless, unless our hearts, our lives, overflow with the justice and righteousness that come from God’s immeasurable love for all his people, all his creatures, all his creation.

This is the oil that should burn in our lives – illuminating the truth of who God is, and what he desires for us. As individuals, and together; on a grand scale or in life’s smallest details – we are to reflect Christ’s redemptive presence in all our circumstances and opportunities.

This may mean speaking and working for social justice, and for just and equitable global economic systems based in the reality of a finite planet and its need for conservation. (You, Sir, stressed these, particularly the latter, yesterday at the University of Cape Town – while the Archbishop of Canterbury has this week repeated his calls for fair financial systems.) It may challenge how we interact with colleagues – especially junior staff and employees; or speak to neighbours; or order family life. It may prompt joining a civil society group, or holding local councillors to account, or volunteering for a Cathedral-based project.

Anglicans have particular opportunities to pursue justice and righteousness, as salt and light in the world. Last month, I accompanied the Archbishop of Canterbury to Zimbabwe, where – praise God – we seem to have made a constructive difference. Last weekend I was with the Church in Canada, discussing options for co-operation, as salt and light to the world. Later this month COP-17 opens in Durban – and we will stand alongside other faith communities, urging governments to make binding environmental commitments. All these are examples of how, together, we can achieve far more than the sum of what we do apart.

Jesus speaks of Christians as the body of Christ for a reason. Athletes training for next year’s London Olympics know how hard it is to have each part fit, working in harmony. In a similar way, we know only too well that Anglican differences strain our relationships – but holding together in Christ we can achieve far more together than divided.

Finally, let me end with the best news. We do not shoulder this responsibility for justice and righteousness unaided. Unlike the resources of this planet, God’s oil is limitless. All we need do is open ourselves to him, so he may fill us to overflowing. Jesus promises each of us: ‘Ask, and it shall be given you; seek and you shall find; knock and the door will be opened … for how much more does our Father in heaven give good things to those who ask’ (Mt 7:7,11b).

So, Your Royal Highnesses, dear people of God, dear brothers and sisters in Christ – may God bless us, and bless others through us. Through us may his justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everlasting stream. May it be so. Amen

Environmental Coordinator Appointed

The following press release was issued on 2 November 2011.

The Anglican Archbishop of Cape Town today announced the appointment of the Revd Canon Rachel Mash as Environmental Coordinator for the Anglican Church of Southern Africa.

Canon Mash, who will continue to head the Diocese of Cape Town’s HIV and AIDS programme, Fikelela, will be working to develop the church’s response to climate change and eco-justice. She will strengthen existing partnerships with SAFCEI, the Southern African Faith Communities Environment Institute, and broaden global ties particularly through ACEN, the Anglican Communion’s Environmental Network.

Archbishop Makgoba said he was delighted by the appointment. ‘Rachel will serve the Anglican family across Southern Africa, coordinating our Environment Network, and enhance our ability to participate in inter-religious responses to critical questions of climate change. She will also provide me with invaluable resources in the new role I have recently taken on as Chair of ACEN.’ Explaining that ‘one of our immediate challenges through ACEN is to lend whatever weight we can to the call for governments to ensure a fair, binding and ambitious outcome at the COP-17 meeting opening in Durban later this month,’ he noted that Canon Mash’s appointment was particularly timely.

Dr Makgoba said that he hoped the Anglican Church in Southern Africa would deepen its dialogue with governments, and added that he anticipated engaging further with the Minsters of International Relations and Cooperation, MaiteNkoana-Mbashabane, and of Water and Environmental Affairs, Edna Molewa, following the conclusion of COP-17. ‘Climate change is a reality and we deny it at the earth's peril, risking the destruction of our children's future home,’ he concluded.

Canon Mash – soon to be Dr Mash, following recent completion of a doctorate evaluating the ‘Agents of Change’ HIV Peer Education Programme – said she was looking forward to the challenges of this crucial portfolio. Pointing out that ‘all countries are affected by environmental degradation and climate change,’ she went on to say that ‘the most vulnerable populations will suffer the most, so it is important that as Anglicans we stand together, especially with those of all faiths, in Southern Africa and globally, in support of those most affected.’ In consequence, she stressed, ‘this means a commitment from all of us to tread more lightly on God's earth.’

Issued by the Office of the Anglican Archbishop of Cape Town. Inquiries: Ms Wendy Tokata on 021-763-1320 (office hours); and Revd Canon Mash at rmash@mweb.co.za.

More details of the work of SAFCEI are available at http://safcei.org; and of ACEN at http://acen.anglicancommunion.org/index.cfm and on the Facebook page ‘Green Anglicans’.

The Snell Sermon - the Incarnate Jesus Christ in Contemporary Theological Thought

Below is the text of the Snell Sermon, preached in the Cathedral Church of St James, Toronto, Canada, on 30 October 2011.

Psalms 146, 149; Wisdom of Solomon 5:1-5,14-16; Revelation 21:1-4,22-22:5

May I speak in the name of God, who makes his home among mortal humanity.

First of all, let me express my deep gratitude to Archbishop Johnson and to Dean Stoute, for inviting me to preach the Snell Sermon. Thank you also to the whole Cathedral family for the warm hospitality I have received since I arrived in Toronto. Thank you, to everyone who has had a part in this, and in this evening’s service. I am privileged and honoured by your invitation – and especially happy to be here, given my former link with this Diocese through the partnership with the Diocese of Grahamstown, of which I was previously Bishop.

When I was invited to give this sermon, I was particularly delighted to learn that Bishop Snell had specified the theme of ‘The Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ – His person and His message in contemporary theological thought.’ For, more than anything else, it is to the person of Jesus Christ and his message that I have found myself returning in the four years since I was elected as Archbishop of Cape Town – and especially, after my installation, when I began to learn just quite how broad and challenging this calling was to be!

It is a challenge that goes far beyond the life of the Anglican Church of Southern Africa – which is itself quite broad enough, when one realises that it encompasses not only South Africa itself, but also Angola, Lesotho, Mozambique, Namibia, and Swaziland, together with the islands of St Helena and Tristan da Cunha! In all these places – and especially upon the continent of Africa – we find ourselves deeply involved in life beyond our church walls, often heavily engaged in public debate, where we attempt to provide a platform for the voices of the voiceless, and a moral compass in shaping our nations. In addition, we often find our gaze looking wider, both on international issues of justice, and within the global Anglican family. In all of these, I have found that reflection upon Jesus, the incarnate Christ, has provided particularly rich resources for responding to God’s calling upon my life – and therefore I am particularly glad of this opportunity to share some of this reflecting, out loud, with you today.

Of course, Anglicanism is often described as having a particularly strong focus on the incarnation. It is, I have come to feel, one of our great strengths in responding to God’s mission to his world, and our ability to be caught up into this. But I hadn’t quite realised how central the incarnation is, even when, in my Installation Charge, I spoke of the overarching need to ‘discover afresh what it is to be the body of Christ in our time, and who God is in Jesus Christ, for us here and now’. Since then, I have found myself returning again and again to this question, as many new and diverse challenges have crossed my path. I have come to see with fresh eyes, how asking this question might be a touchstone, not only for my own ministry, but also for the wider church, wherever we find ourselves both called and sent to proclaim the gospel.

Travelling from Cape Town’s warming weather, with summer about to open upon us, and finding the nights drawing in here and the temperatures dropping, reminds me that Christmas is closer than I had imagined! Soon it will be Advent, and once again we shall be singing ‘O come, O come, Emmanuel.’ Jesus is Emmanuel – God with us. God is not some distant deity – not even an old man in a beard on a cloud somewhere up high – who looks down on us from afar, as we struggle with all the frustrations and failings of human existence. No, our God is prepared to step right into the mess, and participate in the fullness of what it means to be human.

Theologians will probably wrestle for ever with what exactly it is of which the eternal second person of the Trinity emptied himself – the kenosis of the second chapter of St Paul’s letter to the Philippians. But what is certain is this: in Jesus Christ, God took on flesh, and became truly one of us, with all our physical limitations – mortality included – becoming part of human society, with all its complexities. In Jesus, we find God prepared to ‘get stuck in’, so to speak, rolling up his sleeves alongside us, and getting his hands dirty. For Jesus there were no no-go areas, and no taboo subjects.

This gives me confidence that for us, as Christians, as churches, there is no part of human life that is outside Jesus Christ’s interest, or outside God’s interest, and therefore outside ours. We can be sure that God has something to say, and perhaps say through us, to every arena of human endeavour. This gives me courage, when I find myself challenged to speak God’s word into situations from which, perhaps, I would rather just walk away. For when I say that Jesus got his hands dirty, I remember that he touched the dead son of the widow of Nain, he embraced the leper – he disregarded the holiness codes of his day; he disregarded the moral rules of the religious establishment; he was prepared to render himself technically ‘unclean’ in order to bring a cleansing, healing, redemptive, life-giving touch wherever it was needed. In my own context, I would say he was prepared to touch the wounds, the pressure sores, of the HIV positive, even when no-one else would do so.

Therefore I can have confidence when faced with the messiness of life. Sometimes there is a need to be met, even if the situation is hopelessly complicated, and all available choices have both positive and negative aspects. Often there is no obvious single right thing to say or do, but a complex network of interlocking options and possibilities, with various advantages and disadvantages. Sometimes Christians play a variety of roles, on many sides of the debate, that are not immediately clearly and directly complimentary. And often we have no way of assessing in advance all potential consequences of our actions.

But nonetheless, in Christ incarnate, I can risk getting my hands dirty too, and find myself released from feeling obliged to seek out some impossibly perfectionist course of action that is – as some have described it – so heavenly minded that it is no earthly use. All I am asked to do is to be faithful and obedient to answering Christ’s call to ‘follow me’ as I step into the situations into which he calls me. I do not need to see everything from God’s perspective. I only need to make my contribution – and perhaps other Christians are called to bring another part of the jigsaw to the whole picture: different but complimentary in God’s grand scheme of things. In this way, Jesus, God with us, already present in all situations, is the starting point, the model, and the guide, for my engagement with the messy realities of life.

Yet in all this I realise I am generally not asking myself ‘What would Jesus do?’ as many do these days. For, importantly, I know I am not called to be Jesus. Jesus alone is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world; who gave himself, once for all, upon the cross; and who offers the gift of eternal life – the Lamb in heaven of which our second reading spoke. No, I am not called to be Jesus. It is rather for me to ask, ‘How can I, how can we, help people come into closer encounter with Jesus? How can we better help them hear the gospel, his good news?’ Dr Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, has put it this way: ‘Every vocation in the Church of God is a calling to be a place where God’s Son is revealed.’ In this, he challenges us to consider where, in whom, and in what circumstances, we have ourselves seen Jesus revealed – as the starting point for understanding how he may be revealed to others. The well-known Taizé chant offers one answer to how we recognise Jesus, and so directs us towards how other people can be helped to recognise him too: ‘Ubi caritas, Deus ibi est; - in other words, ‘Wherever there is love, there is God’.

This reminds us of Jesus’ words, ‘Love your neighbour as yourself’. This, of course, poses the question of who are our neighbours and how we can reveal Christ by showing them love. This is not just a matter of asking ourselves what it means to show love to those whom God sends across our paths. As globalisation shrinks the world, there are fewer and fewer people we can claim are not our neighbours – who are not affected in any way by the lives we live and the choices we make. How do we show love in this world of vast economic inequality – inequality often generated on the back of economic injustice?

And while Canada is one of the more equal of the world’s developed societies, the underlying injustices both within and between nations, and the false values and premises of so much of our global financial and monetary systems, are rightly a cause of major concern. The tactics and remedies espoused by ‘Occupy’ and various other protests around the world may be open to question – but the basic issues at stake are ones with which we should all be concerned. Unbridled speculation rooted in assumptions of limitless resources; obsession with short-term profit regardless of long-term consequences to humanity and planet; and promotion of the interest of the rich at the expense of the poor, are recipes for continuing economic failure and human diminishment. We need a new honesty and truthfulness in our monetary systems – as the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace proposed at the beginning of last week.

We also need to look at the unjust economic legacies of the past – not only in finances and the odious debts with which parts of Africa, for example, are still burdened. So we also must name openly, and tackle, the ways the Bretton Woods institutions operate with inadequate sensitivity to local context and need. There are also wider questions of trade regimes that fail to address the specific circumstances of developing countries in any differentiated way, and so result in richer countries continuing to benefit disproportionately at the expense of the poorer. Similar questions of justice must surely underlie our approach to the challenges of Climate Change, not least at COP-17 in Durban, South Africa, in just a few weeks’ time.

All of these matters must be dealt with not merely in technical and economic terms, but in practical, sustainable, ways that are rooted in human realities. We need what Africans call ‘ubuntu’ – the philosophy that says ‘I am because we are’ – that we find our humanity through relationship with others, and my full humanity is dependent upon the full humanity of others. This is what it truly means to love our neighbours as ourselves.

And indeed, perhaps we need to go further in our love – following not only Jesus’ words, but his example of laying down his life for his friends – for those who were in greater need. For, as St Luke reminds us, Jesus also taught that ‘From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded’ (Lk 12:48b). Those of us who have so much, must be prepared to make do with less. Those of us with power and influence must be ready to step back, and make space for those without. The strong must use their strength on behalf of the weak.

It has been said that God has an option for the poor. This does not merely mean a justice in heaven that overcomes the injustices found on earth – of which our first lesson spoke. No, God in Christ has a special care in this world for all who are in need, marginalised, excluded, and suffer in any way. This is made clear by the example of Jesus’ life, and through his teachings. He has far more to say, according to the gospels, about injustice than about prayer, surprising though that may seem to us!

The incarnate Jesus Christ makes his vocation clear earlier in St Luke’s Gospel, where, reading from the scroll of the Prophet Isaiah, he sets out what my predecessor as Archbishop of Cape Town, Njongonkulu Ndungane, calls his ‘manifesto’. Jesus Christ came to bring good news to the poor, sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed (Lk 4:18), whatever form poverty, blindness or oppression take. Or put it another way. Jesus is the one who is present and revealed in the bringing of healing and wholeness to a broken world. This is surely at the heart of our vocation.

Now, in speaking out for justice, Jesus also brings judgement. We cannot overlook this. Yet his judgement is not intended to condemn, but rather to show us what is awry, in order to open our eyes to his better way. For the God who so loved the world that he sent his Son so that all who believed in him should not perish but have eternal life, is the same God who did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him (Jn 3:16,17). So we recognise Jesus not only wherever there is love, but also wherever the saving of the world is happening. And while we all are to be channels that reveal this saving, we are nonetheless set free –thank God – from any compulsion, any burdensome obligation, that we ourselves must save the world, and from a sense of our own condemnation if we fail in this task.

Nonetheless, God’s redemptive judgement leaves the churches with a great challenge. For, as we so well know from every walk of life – from family disagreements to global politics – it is far easier to condemn, to point out what is wrong, than it is to propose and pursue workable, life-giving, answers and solutions. But Jesus’ example shows us that our criticisms of all that mars and impedes the abundant life he came to bring (Jn 10:10) – of all that diminishes humanity’s flourishing as God intended (Gen 1:28) – should be equally constructive, and should equally provide channels for God’s redemptive grace to be shared and experienced, recognised and known, in the actuality of human lives: for both individuals and society.

If we are in any doubts over what such abundant life might entail, then again we should look to Jesus. Jesus Christ, God incarnate, is our ultimate model of what it is to be fully human. Human flourishing is to grow in Christlikeness not merely in some overly spiritualised way but also in the flesh and blood realities of the fullness of life. This must be the goal to which all of mission – and indeed, all of politics, in its broadest sense – is directed. This is the so-called ‘common good’ of which we may speak. It is a matter of eternal values not so much being made concrete as being incarnated, finding human expression among those who are made in God’s image, enjoying the wonders of God’s creation, as God purposed for us.

In other words, the incarnation communicates to us that God is, so to speak, on our side. In Christ Jesus, God demonstrates God’s solidarity with the human condition. He is with us, alongside us, and, more than that, one of us – to a degree we probably will never adequately understand this side of heaven. So, no matter what we face, God is with us. God is in the midst of this or that situation, among these and those people, desiring we all find abundant life in him. There is nowhere where he is not present, nowhere where he cannot work for good. Nor are we, as Christians, ever alone, in our vocation to be the body of Christ, in all situations and among all people: Jesus is with us as we seek to meet others in their needs; and in reaching out to them, we should also expect to encounter him already present there.

Jesus is the bridge between heaven and earth, between eternal ideals and the limitations of practical reality. Because he is, mysteriously yet compellingly, somehow simultaneously both fully divine and fully human, it is almost as if he does not so much bridge the gap as dissolve the gap within his one being. And it is such dissolving of the gap for which we yearn in the life of the church. For it is to Christ we look, when we experience the tensions of living as the body of Christ, within the Kingdom of God that is both ours here and now, and is yet to come.

The consequences of such tensions are particularly seen in the life of the Anglican Communion at present – where we believe we are called to be one in Christ, but are caught up in such deep and painful divisions. Surely, it is only in Christ that we can hope to find the remedy for our broken relationships. He is the one who bears our wounds – even our self-inflicted wounds – in his body on the cross. His is the risen life to which we look for our own redemption – for renewal of life and liberation into what we could be, through his grace, his love, his redemptive sacrifice.

Let me say something about the South African experience of holding together in difference, even brokenness. I suspect we are the most diverse Province on the planet. Our prayer book comes in 13 languages, and countless others are spoken in the homes of our parishioners. We have high-tech city centres, concrete slums, shanty towns, and rural areas that include Mediterranean climate, tropical lushness, baking desert, snowy winter mountains and isolated South Atlantic islands – we have it all, in huge diversity and inequality.

And we certainly know what it is to disagree. We had no consensus on how to oppose apartheid. Our reality was that, for example, Anglican Chaplains served with the South African army as it brutally occupied Anglican parishes in Namibia. Theologically, we are no less diverse. Within our Province, and within our Synod of Bishops itself, one can find the whole breadth of views on human sexuality that are found within the global Anglican family.

Yet we hold together – not because we say these differences matter less than the life-or-death struggles of apartheid and civil war. No, in our politics and in our theology, we hold together because we have dared engage closely with one another, in our disagreements. And we have seen Christ in one another – even Christ on his cross, who bears our pains. So we cannot say to one another ‘I don’t consider you a Christian – you are no longer my brother, my sister, a member with me of the body of Christ.’ We cannot say ‘I no longer am in communion with you.’

We meet each other at the foot of Christ’s cross, holding on to him, holding on to one another, and praying for his grace and mercy; praying that the one who incarnates the Way, the Truth, the Life, will lead us forwards in his Ways, into his Truth, so we may find a fuller experience of the abundant Life that is his desire for us. This is why, across the Communion, we need to know one another deeply, first and foremost, as brothers and sisters in Christ. This is why relationships such as that between the Dioceses of Toronto and Grahamstown are so important. We need to ensure that we use them to build true partnership in the gospel, for mutual up-building in the faith, for sharing in the incarnate Christ.

And we can each hold a mirror up to the other. Often there are aspects of ourselves that we need to discover, but can only see when others open our eyes to them. We can best do this through encounter, through listening, through letting Jesus bind us together in his love. This is what we hope for through the ‘Continuing Indaba’. This is certainly not an endless talking shop. It is rather a human-centred – a human-in-the-image-of-God centred – way of speaking and listening with respect so that we can find ways together of proclaiming and receiving the hope of resurrection life that is found in the incarnate Christ, crucified and raised from the dead.

So my prayer is that we can continue our partnership in mission, and continue to build relationships across the Communion, and be able to stand together in Christ, as we declare the promise of his good news to a needy world. Yes, Jesus, the incarnate Christ, truly is Emmanuel, God with us. And his promise to all who will receive him, is that we shall find our ultimate home with him – a home where we shall hear his voice saying to us: ‘See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’ May it be so. Amen.

Sermon for the Feast of All Saints

The following sermon was preached at the Cathedral Church of St James, Toronto, Canada, on 30 October 2011.

Revelation 7: 9-17, 1 John 3: 1-3, Matthew 5: 1-12

May I speak in the name of God, who calls his people from every nation, and language and people and tribe.

Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ, dear People of God of St James’ Cathedral, Toronto, it is a great privilege and a great joy to be with you this morning as you celebrate the feat of All Saints. Thank you, Dean Doug Stoute, for your invitation to be here – to give the Snell Sermon later today – but also to be able to share in worship with you this morning.

Our first reading, from the Book of Revelation, gives us a picture of the worship of heaven, of which our service now is just a foretaste. We who are here may come from many different parts of the world, and represent great diversity in not only our nationalities and languages and cultures; as well as also in terms of our breadth of backgrounds, experiences, personalities and characters. But we are nothing like as many or as varied as the countless multitude seen by St John in his vision, described here and elsewhere in the Revelation, as together caught up in worshipping God, in worshipping Jesus, the Lamb of God, the Saviour of the world.

Yet unity in diversity is hard for us to grasp. Yes – we read the words, we have a mental picture, perhaps, of what this might mean for heaven – but it is by no means easy to place this image alongside the reality of how hard we find it to deal with difference in our own circumstances, and not least within the Anglican Communion. The aptness of those other words from the Johannine Community, which we heard read in our second lesson, comes home to us: ‘Beloved, we are God’s children now; [but] what we will be like has not yet been revealed.’

It is a bit like being called to know the peace of God which passes all understanding! We are caught in the paradox where we have some inkling, some awareness within us, of what we are called to be and become – and yet are also have a daily experience which, on the surface at least, seems very different. Yet there is a sense in which we can know what we cannot understand – we can encounter something that takes us beyond ourselves, as the Revelation to St John records. God, in his grace, reveals himself to us, and reveals his calling to us, in ways that draw us forward into what we might be.

And of course, the ultimate revelation of God is found in Jesus Christ – the incarnate second person of the Trinity, taking human form, embracing the human condition, even accepting mortality, as he takes upon himself the sins, the brokenness, of this world. As it is sometimes put – echoing the words of St Peter’s second letter – God in Christ participates in our humanity so that we might participate in his divinity (2 Pet 1:4b). This is what our second reading also assures us – ‘What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.’

So then, the remedy for our struggling with disunity within the Anglican Communion is to look to Christ, to put on Christ, to be found in Christ, to grow in Christ-likeness, to be clothed with Christ – so that we can recognise Christ in one another. The eyes have, in my view, rightly been called ‘windows of the soul’ because it is when we hold another’s gaze, and when we hear another speak from the heart – it is then that we can recognise that Christ lives within them.

This can be a challenge. Sometimes it is easier to restrict our encounters with others to questions of doctrine and theology, or matters of church order and the details of liturgy – or even of politics and human rights and social justice. It is often less easy to speak of our deepest experiences of God’s love, since often we know his tender touch most profoundly in those areas of our lives where we are most fragile, most insecure – perhaps most broken or wounded or hurt. And so it can be hard to share what God has done for us, without revealing our own weaknesses. Perhaps this is why disagreements over religious questions can become so vicious – because we feel threatened at the root of our faith, in the areas where we are most vulnerable. But it is when we dare to open ourselves up, to reveal the life of Christ within us, then we shall meet one another truly ‘in Christ’. And when I know that you are my brother, my sister, in Christ – when I see Christ living within you, when I feel the love he has for you – then it completely changes the dynamic of our relationship.

In the Snell sermon later today, I shall speak more about our experience of holding together in Christ, in the church in Southern Africa, over our many differences of language, race and culture – both the lessons we learnt through the apartheid era, and what this has meant to us more recently, in terms of disagreements over human sexuality. We have found that the only way to deal with difference is to wrestle together in Christ. Sometimes it feels as if we meet at the foot of his cross, with the pain of all our divisions, which he bears for us. Yet we also know the pain of the cross as the point from which redemptive possibilities flow.

We are still learning what this means in Southern Africa – there is still more close listening to be done (and sometimes, in consequence, actions to be taken) so we can grow in reconciliation and overcome the continuing legacies of our apartheid past. I was glad to read that within the Anglican Church of Canada – even in Dioceses like yours that were less directly affected – there is a commitment to ensure continuing listening to one another, so that the pains of the legacy of the residential schools can continue to be addressed. It is clear from such experiences that it remains so very important that Christians, that Anglicans, keep on talking, no matter how painful our disagreements, or how insuperable the barriers to agreement may seem.

For all this is not just for us – it is for the sake of God’s broken and needy world. You will recall that at the Last Supper, Jesus prayed that his disciples might be one ‘so that the world might believe’ that he was sent by the Father (Jn 17:22) – sent so that all who believe in him might not perish, but have eternal life (as it says in Jn 3:16). For as the following verse underlines, ‘God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him’ (Jn 3:17). And so our calling is to be caught up into this saving, redemptive, work of God in Jesus Christ.

This is something we seek to do in very concrete ways. As Anglicans we seek to do it through the relationships of our global Communion – including, not least, through the various partnerships that we pursue. I know that you continue to uphold the link between the Diocese of Toronto, and my former Diocese of Grahamstown, and have another link with Ghana. There is also your Primate’s fund, which has done so much to promote mission in other parts of the world.

And it is when we stand in solidarity together – a solidarity that reflects our interdependence, our mutuality, our reliance upon one another – that our message to the world speaks more loudly and more clearly. This is vital when it comes to our witness to the world in areas of social and economic justice. We found a new strength in the voice of Christians standing together – and drawing in those of other faiths and none – in the Jubilee 2000 campaign for the repealing of debt. We saw it too in relation to Make Poverty History, and the support we have given to the Millennium Development Goals.

We are also beginning to see it – but still have some way to go – in relation to protection of the environment, and combatting climate change and all human activity that puts our planet at risk. I was glad to read the ecumenical statement of the Churches in Canada, committing themselves to bring attention to the government of the need to act urgently. In just a few weeks, the United Nations’ Framework Convention on Climate Change, 17th Conference of the Parties – COP-17 – opens in Durban, South Africa. Civil society groups from across the world – with faith communities among those at the centre – will be making our voices heard. I pray you too will be there making your voice heard. Our governments need to know that their populations will not accept anything less than clear commitments to take concrete steps to safeguard our future. And in standing together, from across the world, we also make clear that such commitments must be just and fair.

We know that in this time of global economic difficulties – difficulties of our own making it must be said, of the making of the economically powerful, who have pursued their own narrow, short-term interests, at the expense of all else – that in these times of economic difficulties, it is not easy to take hard decisions. But I need to underscore, from my perspective from South Africa, that the rich and the powerful must shoulder their responsibilities. Jesus words, that ‘from everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required’ (Lk 12:48b). Surely this does apply here.

And I am sure that there are many other areas where Christians must learn to overcome differences and stand together, so that the message of the gospel – of good news for the poor in this world, and the fullness of God’s redemptive promises for the life of heaven – can be communicated clearly and convincingly.

So let me finally turn to our gospel reading for some further reflections on how we do this. The key I want to use for reading, on this feast of All Saints, the Beatitudes which we know so well, comes from those same words of St John’s first letter – that what we will be – what we are called to become – is like Jesus. For it seems to me that Jesus is the one to whom we must look, if we are to know what it truly means to be ‘poor in Spirit’; to be rightly ‘meek’ and ‘merciful’ and ‘pure in heart’; to mourn as Christ mourned for all that is damaged and lost in our society. When it comes to being peacemakers, to hungering and thirsting for righteousness, or even bearing persecution and the slander of others – then Jesus Christ is our model.

My question to you today is this: how can we not be blessed, if we walk in the ways of Jesus? And how can we not be a blessing to others, if we allow ourselves to be conformed to the pattern of Jesus, and so direct others to receive the good news of the kingdom of God, of healing, of hope, of liberation, of redemption, which Jesus offers?

So then, dear brothers and sisters in Christ, dear people of St James’ Cathedral – let us dare to wrestle together in Christ, to stand together in Christ, and to grow in Christ, so that the world might see him more clearly, and come to believe that he is the only Son of the Father, sent for the redemption of this world. May it be so. Amen

Open Letter to the Ecumenical Patriarch

Archbishop Thabo Makgoba today sent the following letter to His All Holiness Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew (who is resident in Istanbul, formerly Constantinople), expressing his deep sadness and condolences to the people of Turkey following Sunday’s earthquake.

Your All Holiness

I am deeply shocked and saddened to learn of tragic deaths of hundreds of people and of the many more people injured or missing after the earthquake which hit eastern Turkey on Sunday 23 October.

On behalf of the Anglican Church of Southern Africa, please accept our message of condolences and comfort to families, friends and relatives of the deceased, of those still missing and of those who were injured. We wish to assure you and them of our prayerful support during this time of mourning. We also pray for all those who are assisting in the search and rescue operations and in aiding those who have lost their homes.

It is an event such as this one that remind us of the fragility of creation, and of our responsibility to be faithful stewards of our planet and all who call it home. We hope that such faithful stewardship will lessen the tragedies over which we can have some effect, such as global warming. As we prepare to host COP 17 in South Africa, we pray that world leaders will take bold and honest decisions for the good of all.

God bless.

Yours in the service of Christ

++Thabo Cape Town

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