On Fear

The opposite of fear is peace. The evening collect prays, that ‘by thee we, being defended from the fear of our enemies, may pass our time in rest and quietness’ through peace. Unworldly peace, this is.

            It must be unworldly peace, because in the world, there’s no lasting peace without justice. Effects of injustice routinely devolve to the innocent: in household, nation, or among nations. It may be distant injustice, half a world away; it might be employed by states, democratic or tyrannical, insurgents, religions or cults; it often believes it’s doing good. The Herods of the age go on killing children, by many and various means. Perhaps the greatest fear of many isn’t for selves, but for the child, too young to create injustice, suffering as injustice fires injustice.

            Fear and hate are bedmates. As we are defended from fear, God grant we be made free of hatred. Hate is actually a sin. And what fear makes us do is often sinful also. ‘Wisdom is better than weapons of war’ says that wise Preacher, therefore ‘Fear God,’ who ‘will bring every deed into judgement, including every secret thing, whether good or evil.’ We have enemies: defend us from fear.

On the Father of Lies

Some words are of the devil. ‘Apartheid’, ‘segregation’, ‘separateness’ are all translated as ‘deprivation’: of civil rights, freedoms, dignity, livelihood, hope. Using terms like ‘detention centre’ and ‘resettlement’ when we mean ‘prison’ and ‘exile’ we lie with pretty words. And the devil is the father of lies.

            Desmond Tutu realised the vital nature of truth when he pointed out that the Truth and Reconciliation Commission did not issue blanket amnesty ‘… amnesty is granted only to those who plead guilty, who accept responsibility for what they have done.’ The harm to the national fabric must be spoken in order for people to be able to live together. ‘True reconciliation exposes the awfulness, the abuse, the pain, the degradation, the truth.’ Archbishop Tutu respects the power of ideology and conditioning. The commission revealed how ‘virtually every institution, every aspect of life, came under the control of this ideology. Everything conditioned white people to think and act in a particular kind of way.’ This comprehension leads to compassion, to awareness of human frailty, even the hope that some may become ‘more ready to accept accountability more easily.’[1]

            ‘Perfect repentance’, Rabbi Sacks says, ‘comes about when you find yourself in the same situation but this time you act differently.’ It’s a ‘change of heart’ preceded by ‘regret, remorse, confession.’[2] Confession of the truth.

            This is a warning against ideologies, othering, and untruths. Our time of mass migration presents a challenge to the ethics of every nation. John D’Arcy May suggests ‘that the actual acceptance of people of other faiths and traditions is itself a religious act which must spring from a spirituality of non-violence.’[3] Let us then confess our sins before God, resolving to lead a new life, hewing to the truth of what has been done and is being done by our governments and left undone by ourselves.

---

[1] Material in this paragraph from Desmond Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness (London: Rider, 1999), 51;218;203;204.

[2] Jonathan Sacks, Not in God’s Name: Confronting Religious Violence, (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 2015), 154.

[3] John D’Arcy May, Transcendence and Violence: The Encounter of Buddhist, Christian and Primal Traditions (New York: Continuum, 2003), 153.

On 'Race' and Religion

When I was in Sydney, I knew many South Africans. Some were opponents of apartheid who’d fled imprisonment for their activism. Others were Jewish: they knew a rule basing distinctions on ‘race’ was dangerous and bad for Jews. (The Nazi conflation of religion with ‘race’ viewed religion as unchangeable, so the music of Mendelssohn, a Roman Catholic, couldn’t be played). Some were both.

            The Christian activists opposed a Christian government. Members of the Dutch Reformed Church dominated political life.[1] Many problems of European provenance devolve back to the Reformation: this is one. When Jan Van Riebeeck established it in 1652, the Dutch Reformed Church brought the doctrines of the Synod of Dordt (1618-1619), ‘an extreme version of Calvinist predestination’ that includes ‘the unconditional decree by God of election, the limiting of Christ’s atoning death for humanity to those elect to salvation, the total corruption of humankind, the irresistibility of God’s grace, and the unchallengeable perseverance in saving grace of God’s elect.’[2]

            It’s easy to see how such doctrines support a thinking of division, hierarchy, status and dismissal even upon a homogeneous population. In South Africa, the Dutch Reformed minister who encouraged apartheid was also Prime Minister; there are different grades of Christianity in South Africa to this day.[3]

            That ‘race’ is so easily tied to religion should be a warning to us now, when Muslims, especially Muslim asylum seekers, may be perceived as a ‘race’ apart. Indeed, Serbian nationalism promoted the Bosnian genocide (1992-1995) by casting Muslims as deracinated alien ‘Orientals’.[4] Are asylum seekers so different, so othered, so worthy of concentration camps, deaths, expulsions? We must see to our theology, our humanity, our very souls.

---

[1] Division of Religion and Philosophy, University of Cumbria, “Dutch Reformed Church of South Africa,” University of Cumbria, http://www.philtar.ac.uk/encyclopedia/christ/cep/drcsa.html (accessed November 10, 2015).

[2] Diarmaid MacCulloch, Reformation: Europe’s House Divided, 1490-1700 (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 2004), 485; 378.

[3] University of Cumbria, “Dutch Reformed Church of South Africa.” All congregations were desegregated in 1986, however.

[4] Karen Armstrong, Fields of Blood: Religion and the History of Violence (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2004), 374.

On the Left Hand

The nurse inserts a needle into my left hand: it carries needed medicines to a thirsty system. If you’re right-handed, the left knows what the right doesn’t know: so says Keith Jarrett, the great jazz pianist. St. Paul thinks you can know too much.

            I glance at my watch, keeping track of passing time. Some place the price of a car on the left wrist, but mine is simple; all I need is a clear dial outside and a steady tick inside. Somewhat like the rest of me.

            Where the left hand is kept to lowly jobs, good things like writing and eating are reserved for the right. Some say the left-hand road is the devil’s path. But great art is made with the left hand. Left-handed piano works of Britten and Ravel; drawings and paintings by Leonardo. Alms given with the left hand are given secretly, to the pleasure of God.

            What about a theology of the left hand? Is the left the hand God uses in darkness? May darkness exist from the beginning, or the uncreated light?[1] God still moves in that time before the creation of the lesser and the greater lights. When we were not asking too many questions. Are bad events due to the absence of light? What would change, if you changed hands?

---

[1] A doctrine of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Refers not to the essence but to the operations of God, as seen at the Transfiguration. See Gregory Palamas (c. 1296-1359).  See also John of Ruysbroeck, Flemish mystic (1294-1381) ‘The uncreated light, which is not God, but is the intermediary between God and the ‘seeing thought’ in contemplation. The uncreated light is neither accepted nor condemned by the Roman Church. What I write here is pure speculation.