I shall be there

‘I tell you solemnly, whatever you bind on earth shall be considered bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth shall be considered loosed in heaven.

‘I tell you solemnly once again, if two of you on earth agree to ask anything at all, it will be granted to you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three meet in my name, I shall be there with them.’

Matthew 18:18 - 20

Communicating with the divine was, in the ancient religions, through a variety of mediums – prophets, sacrifices, sacred spaces and even obeying laws. There were often complex rituals, which, if adhered to, would ensure a pleasing relationship with the divine.

Long before the Church established its own sets of rituals, the early Christians who listened to Jesus must have been astounded to hear him speak these words (Matthew 18:20): For wherever two or three meet in my name, I shall be there with them. No longer did they need the Temple, the Levite priests or obedience to ritualistic laws, for communicating with God was now being mediated by Jesus himself. He himself would become present whenever his disciples met in his name.

This verse is oft repeated, a Christian mantra. It is a part of our confidence knowing that the work we do as Christians – in our schools, hospitals, social agencies, and of course, church communities – begins with prayer and acknowledges the presence of God-with-us, Emmanuel, and when is all said and done, our work is done in his name. This is not to say that our human frailty cannot wreak havoc on many a good intention.

This invitation to pray together is a treasure of great wealth, and I urge you to take every opportunity to do so. Through prayer, a clarity of mind, an openness to love and a drive to serve others is revealed. There is no greater prayer than the Eucharist, but the coming together of the faithful in his name at any time, in any place is a guarantee that Jesus, the Word made flesh, is in deed dwelling among us.

From participation in the annual Passover, to reinterpreting the maintenance of the Sabbath Day by attending Mass on Sundays may well be a fair stretch, both of imagination and of historicity, but it is accounted for by a fundamental human need/desire to regularise activity. We have been able to institutionalise warrior combativeness into 'sport', have turned ball chasing and kicking into various codes of football, and ultimately have 'liturgised' major sporting fests into visual spectacles that rival and often exceed any Pontifical High Mass. There are, of course, further admonishments in the form of the first Commandment when we overinvest our attention in false gods - whether it be the (Greek) goddess Nike (seriously!) or that Gospel favourite, Mammon (nicely deified for us by the likes of the Scholastic bishop of Paris, Peter Lombard). This deepest urge to congregate, to celebrate, to encounter others who think alike and to achieve a common purpose is what draws us to religious worship or awesome spectacle.

Whether awesome spectacle satisfies our desire to engage with the God who loves us and favours us, is a moot point, but there is a great sadness in our empty churches. The sadness is that we have designed, developed and grown - over two thousand years - a liturgy that is a rich expression of who we are, that articulates God's boundless love for us - and yet we are unable to share its meaning and meaningfulness with all and sundry. Can sport ever offer salvation? A view into reaches of time past and a future that promises everlasting life?

Our ability to draw others to pray and meet in Jesus' name is our greatest and most precious mission. Let us do so with fidelity.

Peter Douglas

Racism remains a common scourge in South Africa and the United States

by Russell Pollitt SJ

Many South Africans believed that the United States is different from their own nation—that it had put its struggles with racism behind it—until Charlottesville happened, and people on the tip of the African continent realized that the United States, like South Africa, continues to battle the terrible scourge of racism, something made even more difficult when both nations struggle under questionable leadership.

Racism is still part of the fabric of South African society. Despite the fall of apartheid in 1994 and the reconciliatory tone set by the country’s first democratically elected president, Nelson Mandela, the demon is very much alive here, and high-profile incidents of racism seem to be on the rise.

As scenes of white nationalists in Charlottesville, Va., were broadcast to the world, the trial of two South Africans, in what has been dubbed the “coffin assault case,” was coming to an end. Two white farmers, Willem Oosthuizen and Theo Jackson, were accused of forcing a black man, Victor Mlotshwa, into a coffin and threatening to douse it with petrol and burn him alive. They also threatened to put a snake in the coffin with Mr. Mlotshwa when he resisted.

They said they did this to “teach him a lesson for trespassing on their farm.” Mr. Mlotshwa only reported the case to the police when a 20-second video of the assault was circulated on social media. The incident reportedly took place on Aug. 17, 2016.

This past Aug. 25, the High Court in Middleburg handed down its judgment. Judge Sheila Mphahlele found the duo guilty of intimidation, assault with the intent to do grievous bodily harm and attempted murder. The two men will be sentenced on Oct. 23.

Mr. Oosthuizen and Mr. Jackson were arrested only after outrage over the viral video rose, and they were released after posting bail of less than $100. Even more disturbing, their lawyer claimed that the two men never considered what they did to Mr. Mlotshwa as “wrong.”

South Africa was also rocked by another violent racial assault after another video went viral a few weeks ago. This time it was a video of five white men assaulting a black couple at a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet on Aug. 3. 

The country’s minister of police, Fikile Mbalula, described the incident on Twitter as a racially motivated attack. The perpetrators were arrested and charged with attempted murder, assault with the intent to do grievous bodily harm and pointing a firearm. They have denied it was a racial incident, claiming that the black couple “had [a] bad attitude.”

A local police officer said that in the north of Pretoria, where this incident took place, there is an average of eight to 10 such reported cases every month. The area is still considered to be an enclave of conservative white Afrikaners.

Some South Africans are worried that the events in the United States like Charlottesville will embolden white nationalists here. South Africa is still in a fragile state when it comes to race relations. There is a growing tension across the country as more incidents of racially motivated attacks come to light.

The South African police, not unlike some police departments in the United States, have a reputation for brutality when it comes to dealing with black lives. South Africa only recently marked the fifth anniversary of what is now known as the Marikana Massacre, when police opened fire on striking black miners, killing 34 in a mining community in the country’s northwest platinum belt.

That bloodshed represented the single most lethal show of force by police in South Africa’s democratic era, and though the minister of police was suspended in its aftermath, no police have been held accountable for the miners’ deaths.

The Southern African Catholic Bishops’ Conference spent two days of their midyear plenary in August reflecting on racial injustice in the church and in the country. And in May 2016, the bishops issued a pastoral letter asking for a “candid conversation on racism and its manifestations in order to adequately and seriously address racism and racial divisions in our country.”

The bishops said: “We realize that this is not an easy conversation, one that many of us may prefer to avoid. Our invitation to such a dialogue may in itself evoke a range of emotions, including self-justification and self-righteous feelings; or, guilt and denial; on the other hand, feelings of anger and sadness. Dialogue, rational and respectful, is necessary so that we open ourselves to receive God’s healing.”

The S.A.C.B.C. has tasked its Justice and Peace Commission of the Conference to develop practical ways for parishes to address issues of race from within.

Political leaders in South Africa have been known to use race for gain. Embattled President Jacob Zuma has claimed racism as the motivation for a series of protest marches against him. Many South Africans, across color lines, are unhappy with his leadership and with an increasing gap between the rich and poor, but Mr. Zuma has said the marches demonstrate that “racism is real and exists in our country” and that “some of our white compatriots regard black people as being lesser human beings.”

It is true that there are still white people in South Africa who regard black people as inferior, but Mr. Zuma has done little to find a way forward. Like President Trump, he seems incapable of rising above his own ego and putting the national interest first.

In 2016, the South African bishops conference proposed that the country needs to deal with the social trauma that resulted from colonialism and the violence of apartheid. It said that South Africans need to acknowledge the link between race, power and privilege and call for an urgent redress of the economic inequalities in the country that are a direct result of racially discriminatory laws and practices. Sadly, this message has not reached parish communities or become part of the national narrative.

The United States and South Africa have much in common, including an “expanding frontier” mythology expounded in the United States by scholars like Frederick Jackson Turner and in South Africa by numerous historians of the “Great Trek,” the early 19th century migration of Dutch-speaking colonists into the interior of southern Africa. Both countries resisted British colonial rule and are marked by a history of slavery, wars against indigenous peoples and civil war.

More recently, both countries experienced unpopular wars in foreign countries—in Vietnam and Namibia (which, ironically, South African soldiers used to call “Nam”). Both countries now have heads of state who spend more time embattled in their own messy politics than serving their people.

Both nations, on a more positive note, have experienced largely nonviolent struggles for the civil rights of disenfranchised segments of their populations; at times, they drew inspiration from each other. In more recent times one might draw parallels between the struggles of women and sexual minorities for greater freedom and equality, with liberties won in law offset by a comparable social backlash.

Sadly, today it seems the United States and South Africa have a few other things in common: the ugly underbelly of a persistent racism and leadership that does not appear up to the task of confronting it.

This article was first published in America on 29 August 2017. Father Russell Pollitt SJ is one of America's Johannesburg correspondents.