Posted by Claude Nikondeha on June 29, 2009 at 5:09 AM
Reflections on The Amahoro Gathering 2009 -
South Africa
Submitted by Mike Todd, Canada
© 2009 Jaimi Kercher Photography
Trying
to put words to the Amahoro Gathering is a tall order. South Africa was the third
such gathering, and personally my second, and while it might be too early to
accurately label what is happening at these events, there is no doubt that it
is something very special.
First,
a confession: The first night of the Gathering I was struck by the same crisis
of confidence I experienced last
year in Rwanda:
Why
was I there?
The
theme this year was The African Reformation. Upon reflection, I realized I was
there because there is something about the continent of Africa that pulls at my
heart and refuses to let me go. I was there because I believe the church of
Jesus Christ is desperately in need of reformation. And I was there because I
have the unbending belief that Africa is somehow going to save the west, and
not the other way around. Given these views, I'm still not sure what I can add
to the conversation, but I want to be witness to it. As I often say to my
friends, I go to Africa to stay sane, and I come home to bang my head against
the brick wall.
By
the end of the first full day my crisis had passed. Here are just a few
thoughts that I heard to help orient me again:
+
We talked about the traditional way of African thinking. In the west when we
meet "the other", we dissect them, analyze them, compare them to
ourselves and look for the faults in them. In Africa when they meet the other,
they dance with them. They see themselves as coming alive in them and through
them. If Africa can teach us this posture, this way of being, then that is one
way they will help to save us.
+
Ubuntu is the African idea that we
are all connected. When you hurt, I hurt. When you are humiliated, I am
humiliated. When you are hungry, I am not satisfied. My well-being is tied up
in your well-being. This is community in its truest sense, and if Africa can
teach it to us, this is another way they will help save us.
+
We also talked a lot about redemptive suffering. The statement was made that
redemption only seems to happen through some form of suffering. This is
virtually identical to something we've been saying in our community for some
time now: There is no growth without pain. In the west, we spend our lives, our
energy, and our resources trying to avoid
pain. In order to transform our own suffering and the suffering of the world
into something redemptive we must stop fighting it. Well, nobody knows how to
suffer like the Africans. If they can teach us how to suffer, then that too
will help to save us.
+
Brian McLaren shared with us some thoughts from his next book, A New Kind of Christianity. Brian is no
stranger to criticism, and as I sat and listened I looked around the room and
marveled. Brian was saying things that will bring the heat he receives from
"fellow Christians" to a whole new level, and yet the only sounds
emanating from the group were ones of careful consideration and affirmation. In
the west we have already settled the question; we follow the Jesus who blesses
our comfortable lives. My African friends cannot afford to do that. That Jesus
does not work in Africa.
Amahoro
is a gathering of family. There is a sense of joy and camaraderie, but also of
urgency. There is not much time for small talk. We are there to learn from each
other, to encourage each other, and to share with each other. I am constantly
amazed at the generosity of my friends at Amahoro.
I
can't end these thoughts without reflecting on the setting for this year's
Gathering - South Africa. It is like no other African country that I have
visited. It is an enigma. Following the Gathering I spent a week in
Johannesburg, and one incident was particularly formative for me. My friend
Arnie Sweiger, country director for Oasisza.co, drove me by one of the most
expensive developments in Joburg. High walls, electric fences, and gates
staffed by heavily armed guards. From these multi-million dollar homes you can
actually see one of the informal settlements, home to tens of thousands of
people living in squalor. In fact, this particular camp is being moved because
the same developer owns the land the camp is on and wants to expand the wealthy
development.
We
then stopped for coffee and had a long theological and philosophical
conversation about this bizarre country of outrageous contrasts. We both agreed
that although things seem completely crazy here, in fact South Africa is simply
a microcosm for the entire globe. We in the west are those rich folks behind
the fences, and Africa (and other places of extreme poverty in the world) is
the squatter’s camp we can see just down the road a bit. In South Africa the
two extremes are in physical proximity; they are literally right next to each
other. In the global example we are in virtual
proximity.
This
is obviously a simplistic look at things, but I think it’s fairly accurate. In
an age of instant communication, we are in virtual proximity to those places in
the world where suffering is a way of life. It would be easy for me to sit in
Arnie’s car and condemn those uncaring people behind the fences, but the
reality is I am one of them. And no, I don’t have any answers for what we do
about that situation, other than to echo our friend Brian McLaren and confess
that everything must change.
We
need a new theology of development. We need a new theology of community. Quite
frankly we need a new theology of Jesus, because the one I grew up with seems
to only work in a world where virtual proximity does not exist, and where
distance allows for ignorance. We need to work through what it means to love
our neighbour when everyone on the planet lives next door. My friends at
Amahoro are helping me do that.
Let
me end this thought with a plea: More of us in the west need to go to Africa,
to Amahoro. Yes, to participate in the conversation, to add our own
perspectives collective wisdom to the group, but more importantly to learn. As
I’ve already said I’ve had a feeling for a while now that Africa is going to
save the west, and not the other way around. At the beginning of this trip I
would have admitted that I didn’t have a clue what that actually meant, it was
just something I felt. I’m still not clear on it, but I’m growing more and more
convinced that I might be on to something. As Africa works its way through some
of these mammoth issues, our sisters and brothers there will have much to teach
us, if we are willing to listen.
Father of justice and love
You call your Church to witness
That you are reconciling the world to
yourself:
Help us to proclaim boldly the good news of
your love
That all who hear it may be reconciled to you
And work together for peace and justice;
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Who lives and reigns with you and the Holy
Spirit,
One God, now and for ever, Amen.
Collect
from the service at St. George's Cathedral in Cape Town.