Wikio - Top Blogs - Religion and belief
Showing posts with label apartheid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label apartheid. Show all posts

Sunday, 13 July 2025

True love of our neighbour means that we receive as well as give

Here's the sermon that I have shared at St Mary's Runwell and St Peter's Nevendon today:

We all know the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10. 25 - 37), don’t we? And we all know what the story is about? It’s very clear, isn’t it? It’s a call to kindness, a call to care, a call to help others, unlike those who passed by on the other side. We know all that, don’t we? So, there’s really no point in my reiterating what we already know and therefore I can just leave you to reflect on the calls to kindness that you experience in your daily life. How do you meet those? How do you respond?

There isn’t really anymore to say, so I’ll just leave it at that for today. Or, is that actually the case? Is there perhaps something more to this parable that isn’t generally spoken about? Might there actually be an aspect to this parable that is generally overlooked?

Let’s think for a moment about the hero of the parable – a Samaritan. Samaritans were contemptible people, as far as the Jews of Jesus’ day were concerned, considered as social outcasts, untouchables, racially inferior, practicing a false religion. While Samaritans claimed that they were the true Israel who were descendants of the "lost" tribes taken into Assyrian captivity. The Samaritan’s had their own temple on Mount Gerizim and claimed that it was the original sanctuary. They also claimed that their version of the Pentateuch was the original and that the Jews had a falsified text produced by Ezra during the Babylonian exile.

Samaritans were of mixed Jewish and Gentile ancestry, claimed descent from Jacob and worshipped the God of Israel. So, Samaritans were close to the Jews in their birth and beliefs but they were also different in significant ways, a volatile combination in any era. As a result, Samaritans and Jews engaged in bitter rivalries, which in Jesus’ day could lead to political hostilities that, sometimes, required intervention from the Romans.

Both Jewish and Samaritan religious leaders seem to have taught that it was wrong to have any contact with the opposite group, and neither was to enter each other's territories or even to speak to one another. Jews avoided any association with Samaritans, travelling long distances out of their way to avoid passing through a Samaritan area. Any close physical contact, drinking water from a common bucket, eating a meal with a Samaritan, would make a Jew ceremonially unclean - unable to participate in temple worship for a period of time – this may be part of the reason why the priest and Levite don’t stop to help.

The artist Dinah Roe Kendall painted a version of the parable of the Good Samaritan which set the story in South Africa at the time of apartheid. Doing so, seems to me, to be an accurate parallel with the kinds of emotions and cultural practices that were at play in the relationship between Jews and Samaritans and it shows up clearly the twist in the tail of Jesus’ story.

Jesus, as a Jew, didn’t illustrate his point - that people of every race, colour, class, creed, faith, sexuality, and level of ability are our neighbours – by telling a story in which a Jew was kind to someone else. Instead, he told a story in which a Jew receives help from a person who was perceived to be his enemy. The equivalent in Kendall’s painting is of the black man helping the white man, who represents the people that have oppressed him and his people.

So, Kendall’s version of the story brings out part of the twist in the tail that Jesus gives this story; the sense of receiving help from the person who is your enemy. What her version doesn’t deal with, however, is the idea that the enemy who helps is someone of another faith. The Jews were God’s chosen people and a light to the other nations and faith, so what would have been expected from this story would have been for the Jew in the story to bring the light of faith to the Samaritan. But that is not how Jesus’ story unfolds. Instead, the person who is one of God’s chosen people receives help from the person of another faith.

For Jesus to tell a story in which a Samaritan was the neighbour to a Jew was, for the reasons we have been considering, deeply shocking. We can sense this in the story as recorded for us by Luke, as the lawyer in the story is unable to bring himself to utter the word ‘Samaritan’ in answering Jesus’ question. The story is doubly shocking because the Jews in the story, the Priest and Levite, do not act as neighbours to the man. And trebly shocking, because it was probably their expression of devotion to God that prevented them from being neighbours. Priests were supposed to avoid impurity from a corpse and Pharisees thought that one would contract impurity if even one’s shadow touched the corpse. It was safer, therefore, not to check than to risk impurity.

Perhaps we can get a sense of how shocking this was by asking ourselves who, in our own day, are we least likely to think of as neighbours? Who do we think of as those least like us? Who do we think of as enemies? Who do we think of as contemptible? The point of the story is that Jesus says our neighbour is not our own people but those we think of as enemies or as contemptible because of their birth or beliefs. The least likely people, the people least like us, these are the people that Jesus calls our neighbours.

To find a contemporary equivalent for this aspect of the story, we have, perhaps, to think about relationships in this country between Christians and those of other faiths, and within those relationships, recognise that relationships between Christians and Muslims are often those which are currently most conflicted, with some Christians believing that Islam represents a threat to the Church and Western civilization. Within this context, the parable of the Good Samaritan challenges Christians as to what we can receive from those of other faiths and, particularly, those who we might view as enemies. Jesus says to us, through this parable, that loving our neighbours is not simply about what we can give to others but also about what we receive from others.

Our neighbours, understood in this way, are those to whom we should give – “go and do likewise”, Jesus said to the lawyer - and they are those that we should love as we love ourselves. They are also those from whom we should receive because it was the Samaritan in the story who provided help, not any of the Jewish characters. So, we need to ask ourselves how we can receive, grow, learn from and be blessed by those we think of as enemies or as beneath contempt because of their birth or beliefs.

You see, if our focus is just on what we can give, then we are in a paternalistic relationship with our neighbours or enemies. If our focus is just on what we can give, then what we are saying is that we hold all the aces and we will generously share some of them with you. In other words, we remain in a position of power and influence. Immediately we acknowledge that we can receive from our neighbours or enemies, then the balance of power shifts and we make ourselves vulnerable. In this parable, Jesus says that that is where true love is to be found and it is something that he went on to demonstrate by making himself vulnerable through death on the cross.

We often protect ourselves from the need to engage with, learn from or show love to those who are different from us by using aspects of the Bible to justify our lack of contact or compassion. But Jesus rules this approach out for his followers by giving us the examples of the priest and Levite. George Caird has written that “It is essential to the point of the story that the traveller was left half-dead. The priest and the Levite could not tell without touching him whether he was dead or alive; and it weighed more with them that he might be dead or defiling to the touch of those whose business was with holy things than that he might be alive and in need of care.”

This is religious rule-making justifying a lack of compassion. Caird says that, “Jesus deliberately shocks the lawyer by forcing him to consider the possibility that a semi-pagan foreigner might know more about the love of God than a devout Jew blinded by preoccupation with pettifogging rules.” Who do we, as the Church, stay away from because we are afraid of contamination or defilement? What aspects of scripture do we use to justify our lack of contact?

Jesus told this story in order that we reach out across the divides and barriers that people and groups and communities and nations construct between each other. He told this story so that Christians would be in the forefront of those who look to tear down the barriers and cross the divides. To the extent, that we fail to do this we are more like the priest and Levite in this story that the Samaritan who was a neighbour to the person in need.

In the parable of the Good Samaritan, where the sting is in the tail, the deepest point is that one of God’s chosen people receives help from his enemy who is of another faith. Jesus is taking us deep into the heart of love and saying that we will not truly love our neighbour until we understand and accept that we have much to receive from those that we perceive to be our enemies. In other words, true love of our neighbour means that we receive as well as give.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Wednesday, 31 January 2024

No strangers, only friends you haven’t met yet

Here's the sermon that I shared this morning at St Andrew's Wickford:

A central aspect of God's experience as a human being in the person of Jesus Christ was that of rejection. Jesus was, in the words of Isaiah 53, ‘despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity; and as one from whom others hide their faces he was despised, and we held him of no account’ (Isaiah 53. 3). We see that rejection here, in this story (Mark 6. 1 – 6), set in his home town at the beginning of his ministry, just as we see it more violently worked out at the end of his ministry when he is crucified.

Rejection is a human experience which we all understand because each us will have experienced rejection at one time or another. It is an experience that God has also shared and therefore understands as we go through our personal experiences of rejection.

But rejection is a human experience which we all understand because it is also something to which each of us is party. As in this story, we find it easy, as human beings, to find reasons to reject other people. It is not so long ago in the history of this country that there were appalling signs in windows saying, 'No Irish, no Blacks, no Dogs'. In our lifetime we have seen whole societies built around the separation of people on the basis of colour, with the Civil Rights and anti-apartheid movements, thankfully, having brought some significant change to those situations of rejection.

Yet, although we have seen change, we continue to see particular groups of people in society demonised, scapegoated and rejected. In the Church today, it is the LGBTI community who have that experience while in society generally, it is migrants, whether refugees or asylum seekers, that are the focus of significant rejection.

When Jesus is rejected, as in our Gospel reading, God is rejected. God, in Jesus, enters in to our experience, as human beings, of rejection. He does so in order to bring to light our constant scapegoating and rejection of others by exposing us to the futility of that way of life. Rejection of others ties us into a cycle of revenge and recrimination locking us in to spirals of violence.

Yet, when we have, as human beings, scapegoated and rejected God himself, what more can we do by way of rejection? The way to free ourselves from these negative cycles is by rejecting the impulse to reject or scapegoat others, in other words by following in the footsteps of Jesus who freely laid down his life for others. It is this to which Christ’s death as a scapegoat on the cross calls us.

Today, while we may not literally see signs saying 'No Irish, no Blacks, no Dogs', similar signs are nevertheless still there is our words and actions although applied to different groups of people at this different time. 'No economic migrants,' even 'No migrants', would seem to be the current cry, while in the Anglican Communion we persist in rejecting people on the basis of their sexuality. For those who follow a God who was scapegoated, reviled and rejected, there can be no scapegoating of others. For those who follow a God who laid down this own life for love of others, there must be a similar breaking of cycles of rejection through our own attitudes, speech and actions.

Instead of being those who reject, we need to become those who invite. The opposite of rejection is not simple acceptance, but active engagement; the invitation to participate in community. The goal of those who are great inviters is “to have everyone participating, giving and receiving gifts.” Abundant community involves welcoming “those on the margins”, “which is the heart of hospitality.” As William Butler Yeats was credited with saying, “There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t met yet.” May it be so with each one of us. Amen.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Manfred Mann's Earth Band - Prayer.

Sunday, 9 October 2022

Artlyst - William Kentridge: Merging Politics With Aesthetics – RA

The latest review I've prepared for Artlyst is of William Kentridge at the RA:

‘“This man is colonising the world. He started off with Johannesburg landscapes and he’s gone outwards, through Stalinist Russia and to Mao’s China and Vienna in the nineteen-twenties and on and on until there’s not going to be any territory in the world left that he hasn’t colonised with his drawings.”

“As elusive as it is allusive, Kentridge’s art is shaped by apartheid and grounded in the politics of the post-apartheid era, and in science, literature and history, while always maintaining space for contradiction and uncertainty.” He says, “There was an absurdity to the basic logic of apartheid that we grew up with. There was something wrong with the logic, and that false logic then gets carried through to the nth degree—with pencils in people’s hair, with the fifty-two different categorisations of what races were. So, the absurd was built in. We understood that the absurd was where we lived.”'

In homage to Kentridge and his approaches, this review is a montage of quotes about his work.

My other pieces for Artlyst are:

Interviews -
Monthly diary articles -
Articles/Reviews -
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paul Hindemith - Symphony: Mathis The Painter

Sunday, 10 July 2022

True love of neighbour means we receive, as well as give

Here's my sermon from today's Communion Servive at St Catherine’s Wickford:

We all know the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10. 25 - 37), don’t we? And we all know what the story is about? It’s very clear, isn’t it? It’s a call to kindness, a call to care, a call to help others, unlike those who passed by on the other side. We know all that, don’t we? So, there’s really no point in my reiterating what we already know and therefore I can just leave you to reflect on the calls to kindness that you experience in your daily life. How do you meet those? How do you respond?

There isn’t really anymore to say, so I’ll just leave it at that for today. Or, is that actually the case? Is there perhaps something more to this parable that isn’t generally spoken about? Might there actually be an aspect to this parable that is generally overlooked?

Let’s think for a moment about the hero of the parable – a Samaritan. Samaritans were contemptible people, as far as the Jews of Jesus’ day were concerned, considered as social outcasts, untouchables, racially inferior, practicing a false religion. While Samaritans claimed that they were the true Israel who were descendants of the "lost" tribes taken into Assyrian captivity. The Samaritan’s had their own temple on Mount Gerizim and claimed that it was the original sanctuary. They also claimed that their version of the Pentateuch was the original and that the Jews had a falsified text produced by Ezra during the Babylonian exile.

Samaritans were of mixed Jewish and Gentile ancestry, claimed descent from Jacob and worshipped the God of Israel. So, Samaritans were close to the Jews in their birth and beliefs but they were also different in significant ways, a volatile combination in any era. As a result, Samaritans and Jews engaged in bitter rivalries, which in Jesus’ day could lead to political hostilities that, sometimes, required intervention from the Romans.

Both Jewish and Samaritan religious leaders seem to have taught that it was wrong to have any contact with the opposite group, and neither was to enter each other's territories or even to speak to one another. Jews avoided any association with Samaritans, travelling long distances out of their way to avoid passing through a Samaritan area. Any close physical contact, drinking water from a common bucket, eating a meal with a Samaritan, would make a Jew ceremonially unclean - unable to participate in temple worship for a period of time – this may be part of the reason why the priest and Levite don’t stop to help.

The artist Dinah Roe Kendall painted a version of the parable of the Good Samaritan which set the story in South Africa at the time of apartheid. Doing so, seems to me, to be an accurate parallel with the kinds of emotions and cultural practices that were at play in the relationship between Jews and Samaritans and it shows up clearly the twist in the tail of Jesus’ story.

Jesus, as a Jew, didn’t illustrate his point - that people of every race, colour, class, creed, faith, sexuality, and level of ability are our neighbours – by telling a story in which a Jew was kind to someone else. Instead, he told a story in which a Jew receives help from a person who was perceived to be his enemy. The equivalent in Kendall’s painting is of the black man helping the white man, who represents the people that have oppressed him and his people.

So, Kendall’s version of the story brings out part of the twist in the tail that Jesus gives this story; the sense of receiving help from the person who is your enemy. What her version doesn’t deal with, however, is the idea that the enemy who helps is someone of another faith. The Jews were God’s chosen people and a light to the other nations and faith, so what would have been expected from this story would have been for the Jew in the story to bring the light of faith to the Samaritan. But that is not how Jesus’ story unfolds. Instead, the person who is one of God’s chosen people receives help from the person of another faith.

For Jesus to tell a story in which a Samaritan was the neighbour to a Jew was, for the reasons we have been considering, deeply shocking. We can sense this in the story as recorded for us by Luke, as the lawyer in the story is unable to bring himself to utter the word ‘Samaritan’ in answering Jesus’ question. The story is doubly shocking because the Jews in the story, the Priest and Levite, do not act as neighbours to the man. And trebly shocking, because it was probably their expression of devotion to God that prevented them from being neighbours. Priests were supposed to avoid impurity from a corpse and Pharisees thought that one would contract impurity if even one’s shadow touched the corpse. It was safer, therefore, not to check than to risk impurity.

Perhaps we can get a sense of how shocking this was by asking ourselves who, in our own day, are we least likely to think of as neighbours? Who do we think of as those least like us? Who do we think of as enemies? Who do we think of as contemptible? The point of the story is that Jesus says our neighbour is not our own people but those we think of as enemies or as contemptible because of their birth or beliefs. The least likely people, the people least like us, these are the people that Jesus calls our neighbours.

To find a contemporary equivalent for this aspect of the story, we have, perhaps, to think about relationships in this country between Christians and those of other faiths, and within those relationships, recognise that relationships between Christians and Muslims are often those which are currently most conflicted, with some Christians believing that Islam represents a threat to the Church and Western civilization. Within this context, the parable of the Good Samaritan challenges Christians as to what we can receive from those of other faiths and, particularly, those who we might view as enemies. Jesus says to us, through this parable, that loving our neighbours is not simply about what we can give to others but also about what we receive from others.

Our neighbours, understood in this way, are those to whom we should give – “go and do likewise”, Jesus said to the lawyer - and they are those that we should love as we love ourselves. They are also those from whom we should receive because it was the Samaritan in the story who provided help, not any of the Jewish characters. So, we need to ask ourselves how we can receive, grow, learn from and be blessed by those we think of as enemies or as beneath contempt because of their birth or beliefs.

You see, if our focus is just on what we can give, then we are in a paternalistic relationship with our neighbours or enemies. If our focus is just on what we can give, then what we are saying is that we hold all the aces and we will generously share some of them with you. In other words, we remain in a position of power and influence. Immediately we acknowledge that we can receive from our neighbours or enemies, then the balance of power shifts and we make ourselves vulnerable. In this parable, Jesus says that that is where true love is to be found and it is something that he went on to demonstrate by making himself vulnerable through death on the cross.

We often protect ourselves from the need to engage with, learn from or show love to those who are different from us by using aspects of the Bible to justify our lack of contact or compassion. But Jesus rules this approach out for his followers by giving us the examples of the priest and Levite. George Caird has written that “It is essential to the point of the story that the traveller was left half-dead. The priest and the Levite could not tell without touching him whether he was dead or alive; and it weighed more with them that he might be dead or defiling to the touch of those whose business was with holy things than that he might be alive and in need of care.”

This is religious rule-making justifying a lack of compassion. Caird says that, “Jesus deliberately shocks the lawyer by forcing him to consider the possibility that a semi-pagan foreigner might know more about the love of God than a devout Jew blinded by preoccupation with pettifogging rules.” Who do we, as the Church, stay away from because we are afraid of contamination or defilement? What aspects of scripture do we use to justify our lack of contact?

Jesus told this story in order that we reach out across the divides and barriers that people and groups and communities and nations construct between each other. He told this story so that Christians would be in the forefront of those who look to tear down the barriers and cross the divides. To the extent, that we fail to do this we are more like the priest and Levite in this story that the Samaritan who was a neighbour to the person in need.

In the parable of the Good Samaritan, where the sting is in the tail, the deepest point is that one of God’s chosen people receives help from his enemy who is of another faith. Jesus is taking us deep into the heart of love and saying that we will not truly love our neighbour until we understand and accept that we have much to receive from those that we perceive to be our enemies. In other words, true love of our neighbour means that we receive as well as give.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ladysmith Black Mambazo - Homeless.

Monday, 21 February 2022

A Memorial Service for Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu and Ambassador Lindiwe Mabusa: Prayers


Here are the prayers I prepared for today's Service of Celebration and Thanksgiving for Archbishop Desmond Tutu and Ambassador Lindiwe Mabuza at St Martin-in-the-Fields:

God of justice, we give you thanks for your prophets, prophets like Desmond Tutu, who advocate for love, justice and human rights in the struggles against apartheid, oppression and exploitation and for climate justice, peace in Palestine and Israel, equal rights for the LGBTI community, equality, fairness and justice across the world. Like the Arch, may we come to see that all humans are of infinite worth intrinsically because all are created in Your image and that systems such as apartheid are blasphemous because they treat the children of God as if they are less than Your own. Challenge us through your prophets to create societies wherein people count and where all have equal access to the good things of life, with equal opportunity to live, work and be educated. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

God of culture, we thank you for your poets, poets like Lindiwe Mabuza, for whom art was an essential part of the struggle and poetry a part of a whole arsenal of weaponry to be used against apartheid. We thank you for all who shape their words to get to the heart of the matter and move their hearers. We thank you for all who kneel, where road-blocks to life pile precariously, and scoop earth, raising mounds of hope, who oath with their lives to immortalise each footprint left, each grain of soil that flesh shed, each little globe of blood dropped in the struggle upon the zigzag path of revolution. We thank you for those who saw that Soweto's blood red road would not dry up until the fields of revolution were fully mellow tilled, always to bloom again. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

God of unity, we give thanks for your reconcilers, reconcilers like Desmond Tutu, who do the demanding, sometimes agonising, sometimes traumatic work of truth-telling, testimony, confession, listening, reparation and rehabilitation. We thank you for all who helped investigate the violations that took place in South Africa between 1960 and 1994, provided support and reparation to victims and their families, and compiled a full and objective record of the effects of apartheid on South African society. Remind us that while we are not responsible for what breaks us, we can be responsible for what puts us back together again and naming the hurt is how we begin to repair our broken parts. That, as the Arch reminded us, in our own ways, we are all broken and out of that brokenness, we hurt others. May forgiveness be the journey we take toward healing the broken parts and become whole once again. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

God of relationships, we give thanks for your Ambassadors, Ambassadors like Lindiwe Mabuza, who succeed in promoting their countries and cultures winning new friends from across many fields, from business to tourism, music, literature and arts and culture. Give us the gift of bringing people together and of polishing rough diamonds until they themselves know how brightly they shine. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

God of freedom, we give thanks for 27 years of freedom since South Africans voted in their first democratic elections. We give thanks for the lives and work of Desmond Tutu and Lindiwe Mabuza and the part that each played in the anti-apartheid movement. We give thanks for those of all faiths and none who contributed to the anti-apartheid movement. We give thanks that Trafalgar Square became a global focal point for the movement and for the part that St Martin-in-the-Fields played within that movement. We give thanks for the ongoing partnership between St Martin’s and St Mary’s Cathedral in Johannesburg. We give thanks for the work of the High Commission in the UK as it contributes to the creation of a better South Africa through its engagement with the government and people of the United Kingdom. God Bless South Africa; Guard her children; Guide her leaders And give her peace, for Jesus Christ's sake. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Merciful God, accept these prayers for the sake of your Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

David Fanshawe - Dona Nobis Pacem - A Hymn for World Peace.

Friday, 20 September 2019

St Martin-in-the-Fields, HeartEdge & St Mary the Virgin Cathedral, Johannesburg (2)































































This week I am visiting St Mary the Virgin Cathedral, Johannesburg as part of the ongoing partnership between the Cathedral and St Martin-in-the-Fields, which now also includes HeartEdge membership for the Cathedral.

In addition to visiting churches and projects in Alexandra, Sophiatown and Soweto, I am also meeting a group of young people from the Cathedral who will be visiting St Martin’s at Easter 2020 as part of their leadership development. The visit includes HeartEdge discussions with the Parish Council, Cathedral Canons and International Partnerships Ministry. I have also been invited to be guest preacher at the service to celebrate the 90th year of the Cathedral’s consecration. The service is being livestreamed and can be viewed here.

Day 1 of my visit involved a Cathedral tour by Dean Xolani Dlwati, Mrs. Rosie and Mr. Malebo to take in the beauty and rich history of the building and to meet the Cathedral's staff team. I enjoyed seeing artworks by Tefo Dipholo, Job Kekana, Chaim Stephenson, Leo Théron, among others, as I prepare for my sermon of Sunday which uses these artworks as a lens through which to view the 90th Anniversary of the Cathedral. We also reflected on changes to area and and environment around the Cathedral and their plans to create a new precinct.

Day 2 took us to Soweto where we visited Holy Cross Church, Hector Pieterson Memorial and Museum, Mandela House and enjoyed a meal at McCoy's Lifestyle Butchery, a restaurant and butchers shop in Senaoane. The Hector Pieterson Memorial and museum is not far from the spot where 12 year-old Hector was shot on the 16 June 1976 during the Soweto uprising that today is a symbol of resistance to the brutality of the apartheid government. Soweto, a city developed as a township for black people during apartheid, lies south of Johannesburg. On 16 June on the day Hector was killed, school children had gathered to protest the imposition of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in township schools. As children began singing Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika, and before they could be dispersed, the police opened fire. Some 20 children died in the ensuing pandemonium.
News of the events in Soweto soon spread, igniting uprisings around the country in which hundreds of people died. One of the first to be killed by the police was 12-year-old Hector Pieterson. Newspaper photographer Sam Nzima was in Soweto on June 16 covering the protests and the riots which followed. His iconic image of Pieterson’s body being carried by high school student Mbuyisa Makhubo, with his sister, Antoinette Sithole, running alongside, is a graphic representation of repression under the apartheid regime and has become an iconic image around the world of the senseless cruelty and brutality of the apartheid state. This image was used by Chaim Stephenson as the basis for his twin sculptures at St Mary's Cathedral and St Martin's.

On Day 3 we attended the Eucharist at St Michael and All Angels Anglican Church, Alexandra, led by their Rector Fr Clayton Moitsiwa. The church opened its doors in 1930 and it has been a beacon of hope and a place of solace for the community of Alexandra. Fr Clayton showed me the old church building, community projects, Nelson Mandela's first home in Johannesburg and the Alexandra Heritage CentreAlexandra Township, located in northern central Johannesburg on the banks of the Jukskei river, covers an area of under 8 square kilometres, yet is home to nearly half a million people. The township is one of the few remaining original 'black freehold' settlements and has huge cultural and political historical significance. Over time the original well-built housing has been subsumed with extensive 'informal' development, a reaction to the demand for accommodation from migrant labour. This poor, densely populated and inadequately serviced area is a stark contrast to the nearby wealthy suburbs of Sandton. Mandela's Yard is a small precinct of buildings set within the heart the township. Within the precinct is a small dwelling where Nelson Mandela lived in 1942. The nearby Alexandra Heritage Centre has a museum where Alexandra history is archived.

On Day 4 I had conversations with Godfrey Henwood (Canon and former Dean of the Cathedral) and Trisha Sibbons, visited St Alban's Cathedral, Union Buildings and Freedom Park in Pretoria, before a visit to The Market Theatre in Johannesburg to see Venus vs Modernity, by the acclaimed poet Lebo Mashile. Following this visit, there was an opportunity to meet theatreduo who are shortly to perform Tswalo at The Market Theatre. Tswalo combines ritual, physical storytelling and heightened text to explore the primary themes of being, chaos and beauty, blood and birth, love and war. Leo Théron completed four large windows for St Alban's Cathedral in Pretoria, a major achievement in South Africa in terms of figurative liturgical design, and it was a real pleasure to see them.

On my return I will share news of the Cathedral and our partnership as part of our Harvest Eucharist at St Martin's on Sunday 29 September, when the theme will be Global Neighbours.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soweto Gospel Choir - Umbombela.