Contrasts

We continue to see a wondrous mixture of beauty, courage, and pain. Today, Laura and I obeyed the encouragemen1t our friend, here, Mark Stephenson gave us to drive along the West Coast to a place called Blouberstrand and saw Table View, one of most photographed and celebrated sights of Table Mountain. I added to the mass of pictures by at least a dozen. The addition of the pounding Atlantic surf gave power to the sight. This is truly a land of vast beauty.

Right up against this, even with expensive housing in sight, is the presence of people who struggle to live. Earlier today Laura and I visited Dr. Denise Ackermann, a theology professor whose husband was appointed by President Nelson Mandela to serve as a justice on South Africa’s Supreme Court. Both Denise and her husband Laurie were activists in opposition to apartheid and paid dearly for it, at one point losing position and nearly all they had because of their convictions.

Denise explained to us that though there was a miracle in 1994, with the ending of apartheid and a transition to full democracy without major bloodshed, it is frustrating that more has not been done since that time to bring the realities of justice to the people. Laura and I have seen very graphically what she is talking about: millions living in townships with barely a roof over their heads or food for their stomachs. Denise is concerned that if their plight is not considered and dealt with over the next 6-8 years, there could well be a major upheaval with which to contend. There is suffering that continues here.

This made me wonder how much headway we have made in the United States. There is suffering that continues at home.

And there is courage. Yesterday, Laura and I visited the District 6 Museum. District 6 was a poor yet vibrant and diverse community in Cape Town that thrived as the heart of South Africa in the face of apartheid. Then, the government declared it a “White District”, displaced all its residents and bulldozed all its buildings except for the churches. The Museum is housed in what used to be the Methodist Church. I peered through the banners hanging in the main part of the room and saw that they covered the old chancel, and I saw the pulpit where Dr. Peter Storey once preached.

We have met with Peter Storey as well as John de Gruchy and, now, Denise Ackerman – all who were brave enough to take a stand against a White society that did not want to give up its privilege for the sake of those they disenfranchised. We have become fast friends with Mark and Arlene Stephenson who act boldly in mission. In addition to them, we have seen the suffering that refuse to be called, “victim,” but would rather be considered victorious in surviving with oft-thriving spirit through oppression and poverty.

These stand as examples of courage. They are people whose witness in word and action becomes inspiration to the world for the prophetic voice to be raised and the human will to hope, that the kind of contrasts we have seen here and can also, in our way, at home will fade and the human experience become one with the beauty and joy of the land.

Risky Business

I completed the last entry of the journal sounding as if adjusting to “the British system of driving” was easily done. If so, it was a prevarication. There is something about getting into a car on the “wrong” side and driving on the “wrong” side of the road that seems terribly unnatural. When we picked up the car, I accepted the fact that the gear shift would be operated by my left hand, not my right and I thanked my lucky stars that the arrangement of the pedals on the floor were in the “right” order. I told myself that under no circumstances was I to pull out of the parking space and drive on the right side of the road; it had to be the left. I started the car, pulled out and automatically swung to the right. Some tolerant guy turned around the corner to face me head-on, stopped and let me swing over to the left as though I was just going through some extra maneuvers to get out of my spot. It was unnatural. We were downtown, so we moved through the city traffic and onto the freeway and I thought I had it all figured out. I went to change lanes, flipped the turn signal like I am supposed to and the windshield wipers began to flap.

The next day, we drove up Table Mountain to the Cable Car station. I will spare you the details.

Two insights come out of this. The first has to do with my experience of the unnatural. Driving on the right side of the road is, every American knows, the right way of doing things. Somehow, when driving started back when, the British either wanted to do things opposite “the American Way” just for spite, or they didn’t get the memo, right? That’s what we tend to think. Everything in my fiber tells me how to drive correctly. But the truth is, the British and their motoring heirs are not wrong, and we are not right, or vice-versa. What is embraced by me as natural has much more to do with what I have been taught thoroughly, and then I have practiced and has become familiar. Now that I have nearly a week of driving under my belt the unnatural is becoming more familiar and acceptable and predictable and even comfortable.

There are still surprises. Today Laura and I motored about 100 km to Hermanus, a sea coast town along the Indian Ocean east of Cape Town. The mountains dropping off into the sea were beautiful. We went there to have discussion with Dr. John de Gruchy, a retired theology professor who was active in the movement to end apartheid and helped to set up the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. It was a fascinating discussion. We ate lunch afterward in a little place looking out on the bay and saw whale surfacing and blowing and leaping out on the water. We drove back along the coast - a very beautiful part of our world. Out on the two-lanes, going the speed limit sometimes as fast as 120 km/hr., we discovered that passing is done differently here. The slower car moves onto the paved shoulder to let the faster car behind pass. But the adjustment I had to make was acceptable because I had accepted accepting the difference. And I wonder, “What does that have to say about the way we handle diversity?”

Peter Storey filled the hour and a half we spent with him on Saturday with a lot of profound reflection from his experience in the resistance to apartheid and work of healing the nation of South Africa after 1994. He also has a very hard expectation (and a right one, I think), that if the church wants to be where Jesus is, we the church need to be with the poor. In the midst of the conversation he emphasized the way sensitive people of privilege who want to care for the oppressed are inclined to work up the formula to fix the situation for them rather than listening to them first, learning from them and asking how they can help.

Engaging transformative work requires you to step into the place where you will become transformed yourself, where the unnatural becomes acceptable and the unfamiliar becomes familiar. Dr. John de Gruchy, whom we saw today, would add that, from a Christian stance, this is not an option we can take or leave. It is necessary for our own salvation – reconciliation with God which is the heart of the Gospel also wraps into it reconciliation with others at interpersonal, tribal/national and international levels. You have to step into the re-learning mode, be re-formed yourself again and again, if you want to truly experience the new-life generated by God’s Holy Spirit.

This takes risk, which is the second insight driving here has given me. Last night I caught up on writing my journal and reflected on this venture. Driving on the left side of the road might be the first truly foreign venture, completely outside my box in years. The stakes are high. Coming to South Africa, too, was a risk. We have never been in a different part of the world before, and so far without a guide. Yet risking has taken us somewhere and given us gifts we never would have experienced otherwise. Likewise, whether it is an individual or a congregation, the venture of ministry involves risk-taking. You necessarily become vulnerable, sometimes clueless, and sometimes anxious and forced to depend solely on God. And when you do that…you discover that you are being held by a hand that you may never have otherwise have noticed. That’s what it’s like here.

I realize that others have already done these kinds of things. We are not the first. That is not the point. The point is that it is the first time for us, and we are being blessed in ways we never would have imagined. More doors keep on opening. We are meeting people from so many varieties of life situations who are telling their amazing stories and gifting us with their gems of insight. In the midst of the sometimes risky unfamiliar we are discovering the kind of insight and inspiration that reshapes us and prepares us for enhanced ministry to come.

African Doors

I wrote in Connections, our church’s newsletter that doors seem to keep opening before I notice they have appeared.

Laura and I had a brief stay in Northville between our return and flight to South Africa. This was (almost) time enough to clean clothes, pack and gather the information materials we would need for the African leg of the trip. I am now discovering the consequences of forgetting things I need. It’s a good thing James (our son) is home to rescue me and that e-mail and internet-phoning exists to transfer information quickly.

Before we left, we managed to see my mother, a few church friends who happened to be downtown Northville while we were there briefly, and attend church where my college roommate and long-time friend is pastor.

I now have a new appreciation for Chevy Chase (and the National Lampoon Vacation movies). It’s quite an experience entering a very different culture than I am accustomed; and I know that I must be quite humorous to behold at times. Outside the hotel, I held my camera while Ebrahim, a hotel staff person, smiled at me as he pointed to Table Mountain and said, “You know that the mountain keeps getting smaller – all the foreigners who photograph it and take piece of it away.” “Do I look like a tourist?” I asked. He just smiled and nodded his head.

Then he told me about being born in District 6, the poor Cape Town neighborhood that had been dispersed and bulldozed by the apartheid government in the 1960’s. This was a little community that, despite its poverty, represented all of South Africa. Here lived Black Africans and Coloureds, Indians, Moslems and Whites in a unique place of acceptance in diversity. Ebrahim said that some of the people who were removed simply died. “They didn’t know how to live anywhere else.” A door opened, so I could see something I would never, otherwise had known.

The flights from Detroit to Cape Town added up to about 21 hours in the air. Landing in Johannesburg, we felt foreign and vulnerable and…clueless. We got through customs, exchanged our money, rechecked our baggage and just got on our flight to Cape Town. I sat next to Laura, and on the other side of me was a man named Mr. Joy Rathebe, grandson of a famous South African Methodist pastor, Rev. E. E. Mahabane. He works for Rev. Frank Chikane, Director General in the Presidency of South Africa. Joy gave me all kinds of good advise, from amounts to tip, to a description of the challenges facing President Mbeke and the new government as it continues its transition from apartheid to democracy and works for economic justice for all. He recommended additional people for me to speak with and offered to help make the contacts. Another door had opened, even during my serious jet-lag.

This morning we woke much refreshed and ready (or not) to fetch a rental car. With the help of Devon, who works at Salty Print Mission, we were coached more on customs, wildlife, driving and attractions. Devon drove us downtown to pick up the rental, and we were off. We made it straight back to the hotel while I got used to the British driving system. It appears that we have fully walked though the door to South Africa and we are really here!

The Carving Element

We spent the last several days in the mountains of Western North Carolina. A few thunderstorms danced their way through the Blue Ridge as we drove up Grandfather Mountain on Tuesday and Wednesday. While Laura read and took more advantage of the mountain top (such as her excursions across the Mile-High Swinging Bridge), I spent time with Tom Wolfe, a nationally acclaimed caricature wood carver.

This was one of my dreams to be lived-out during this sabbatical. Wood carving has long been opportunity for me to relax, move my mental process from the left brain (where I tend usually to live) to my right brain, where I can simply become creative. We spent the day carving, with Tom expounding his lessons, interspersed by down-home, practical observations and opinions on politics, religion, and other matters of the world. A few jokes happened, also, to be bantered back-and-forth.

On the practical side, as it pertains to carving, I learned some valuable lessons. There is need for good tools; and though I have upgraded my supply by purchase and inheritance, I need to acquire some much better knives and gouges, as well as a quality power sharpening wheel. Second, good carving require good, well-researched plans. Third, listen well to the masters, then practice lots and find out what works best for you. Finally, make clean cuts and end up with a carving that isn’t busy with too much detail, but is clean and not raggedy. The carving, especially if it is caricature carving, does not have to be absolutely accurate. It only needs to look believable. Like Tom, I hope my carvings are able to bring about a smile.

The title of this sabbatical is “Carving Out Beloved Community.” Laura has been figuring out how I came up with this title. When you think about carving, it’s easy to picture the shavings that are left on the floor. But as Tom points out, putting a knife to the wood merely to make the shavings; carving is making something. When you wind up with a figure, “What do you call it?” he asks; “You don’t call it a whittling, you call it a carving.” So carving out beloved community is a matter of making something of our relationships. John de Gruchy says in his book, Reconciliation: Restoring Justice, that restorative justice is “…the justice that rebuilds God’s intended network of relationships.” That is what I believe we, as God’s reconciled children, are called to carve into a masterpiece reflective of God’s perfected Holy City.

There is a relation between the art of carving and the art of restorative justice. You live with a vision; you can even draw it out. Then, in hope of the finished product you proceed with the creative work. As you go along your way there will be unforeseen difficulties. In carving, it would be a missed stroke of a knife, a knot in the wood, a time you carve away too much wood. In the work of restorative justice the unexpected turn could be an incident of unexpected violence, an unforeseen economic downturn, an accident that interrupts the momentum of the work. With each surprise, it is important not to give up the work, for that would amount to giving up the vision and giving up hope. You just know that you remain, as a creator, in relationship with the wood or the relationships that need healing; these are the stuff of the finished product. Then, you adjust – you amend the vision a bit. You reposition an arm of the wooden figure; you engage in an act of public apology or forgiveness – and then you “see where you go from there.”

Meeting A Pilgrim on the Same Journey

Laura and I experienced a great blessing today. We attended an engaging worship service at Thrasher Memorial United Methodist Church in Roanoke, VA. We then made our way to the Hotel Roanoke where we found Trevor Hudson, South African Methodist pastor and author of A Mile in My Shoes, standing on the porch, watching for our arrival. We spent the next four hours over lunch and the hotel lobby talking about South Africa, reconciliation and justice, and our families.

Trevor shared so much wisdom with us. He has a gentle, deep, and courageous spirit and easily moves acquaintance into friendship. He speaks of being present and listening to another as one who experiences a pilgrimage into others’ experience. He naturally puts that to practice.

Among the notable reflections he shared, he reflected on the middle class white South African situation during the days of apartheid. He said they were genuinely nice people and that it was natural for them to be largely unaware of the injustices that were taking place; but even more, it was easy to let the government and police to do their sinning for them. This reality is the same that exists everywhere and today among most people of privilege. As a pastor, it was apparent that the oppression could not simply be addressed through the spoken word; that would be like hitting them. It would be more effective to invite them into experiences, to hear the stories of those who were suffering, and let them reflect and be transformed within. This was the realization that led Trevor to develop the Pilgrimage of Pain and Hope immersion experiences. This principle also tends to be effective as people are led to transformation, becoming transformative for the social community as well.

Trevor shared much more about people he wanted to encourage us to see when we are in South Africa. He also advised that we mix some play with the heavy experiences of learning we are sure to confront. He gave us guidance, so we could be savvy and more “street wise” while there: all good advice. He said that we will be overwhelmed by the beauty of the country.

Finally, Trevor reflected amazement that his writing should reach as far as Northville, Michigan, USA and bring the enrichment and insight we described. We concluded our time in prayer, asking God to bless one another through the journeys we were on, and thanking God for the time our paths could join. As we departed I considered how this brother in Christ, “on the same journey,” as he puts it, is one who embraces great peace and great courage at once. It seems to be a transforming experience merely to be in his presence. That is blessing.

Settling In to the Pilgrim Mode

June 5, 2007

It's the second day of my sabbatical time, and I am slowly adjusting to a life without many meetings and deadlines. The main focus of my first week of the leave is simply to become prepared for that which is to come. Laura and I visited our travel agent yesterday and received all of our travel documents that apply to our South Africa pilgrimage. We've done a little shopping. I have been busy making important contacts with people in Detroit, South Africa and New York. Especially, I have begun reading in more earnest.

The book that had been strategically placed on the top of the stack is Reconciliation: Restoring Justice, by Dr. John de Gruchy, a professor at Cape Town University who is world-renowned for his work in restorative justice. This book is considered his "signal contribution" to public theology. It's very challenging and rewarding reading, helping me to recognize the centrality of reconciliation in Christian faith, world view, and practice. Restorative justice is not an option for the Christian, reconciliation with God casts the believer to seek reconciliation with other persons, reconciliation between social groups, and reconciliation to be realized politically, as the quest of the nations. All this is a process or journey toward which God is leading the world. Thus, the vision which has driven my interest for this pilgrimage is central to my faith and ministry.

Tomorrow I am to meet with Dave Law, Rev. Charles Boayue, and others at the Joy-Southfield Community Development Corporation's Health and Education Center. This is a ministry that was begun by Second Grace United Methodist Church and in which First United Methodist Church of Northville has been very much involved in developing. I have hoped to spend some time there while it is in operation. It seems like the perfect place to start my experiential pilgrimage. I expect that my global pilgrimage will lead me back there after the sabbatical is over.

So, the sabbatical has begun! As it turns out, these days are not simply a time of preparation. Through the reading and the conversations I am already having, a personal transformation has already begun.