Football ... over 33 years.

Last night newly promoted Burnley defeated defending Premier League champions Manchester United 1-0 for the first time in 41 years. Founder members of the 1888 Football League, they are nicknamed “the Clarets” because of their claret and blue club colours. They are based in Burnley, Lancashire, where Turf Moor has been their home ground since 1883.


For me – it all began in high school when Jeremy Schrire and Howard Shapiro ran an English football pool in our school: We all chipped in a couple of Rands, and guessed the results before the weekend’s football. I knew nothing about English football, but it seemed foolish to pick a team that everyone else followed, because the payouts were paltry when the popular teams won. So I decided to become a Burnley supporter, and Burnley and I enjoyed moderate success between 1973-1975.

I left school at the end of 1975, and Burnley left the top league of English football. And ever since then Burnley has drifted down the football leagues, until 1984 found them in the Fourth League, followed by an ignominious scramble to prevent relegation to the part-timers Conference League two years later. Bottom of the world… followed by a gradual rise through the leagues. Then a disasterous run of 19 losses in 2006/7 season, which was followed last year by the unexpected – but very welcome – championship playoff against Sheffield United to secure promotion to the Premiership.

Which is a long way around to discovering that I left school 33 years ago! Jeremy is now a successful stockbroker in London, and Howard is an Orthodox Rabbi in Israel.

Anyone for football pools?

A Life under the Stars

We were hosted in Sutherland by Naomi Brink. She has lived her entire life here. This has included owning the local butchwry, a stint working for the local farmer's Co-Op, and now running a guest house called 'Cosmos'(which is not the flower but instead refers to Space/stars/universe. The town makes its living off the planatarium, so the places to stay take on 'starry' names such as 'Halley se kom eet', Jupiter, Andromedia, Galaxy and The Southern Cross. The town has an agreement with the observatory to limit public lighting, so as to maximise darkness. A town off National highways, but well worth visiting.... Go look up Tannie Naomie's Cosmos just off the Main Road.

Sno

Snowing in Sutherland

Woke up to snow this morning.

Sutherland

Turn to the evening news and wait for the weater forecast. Now look for the coldest place in South Africa. i am there: Sutherland boasts an annual minimum temperature of 3 degrees Celcius, and can drop to -13*C in winter. Situated on the Roggeveld escarpment of the Northern Cape, it has on average 88 frosty mornings, and nearly every night is cloud free. So I ventured out for a run this evening, just as the sun was setting. It was clear, crisp.... very crisp... in fact it was very, very cold. 20 minutes and I was back indoors. A hot bath and a lighted fire became a welcome antidote. The evening weather report tells me that the minimum expected temperature for tonight will be 0*C, rising to a maximum of 7*C tomorrow. Oh well - 'more is nog 'n dag'. (picture taken from Northern Cape Tourism Authority publication).

In the Middle of Nowhere.

Driving on the road between Middelpos and Sutherland we came across this vacuum cleaner...... 'tussen niks en nerens' (check the heading for an English paraphrase). This lonely household appliance evoked much discussion - with little explanation.

Middelpos

Middelpos is a spot on a farm in the middle of nowhere. We drove north from the Tanqua nature reserve towards Calvinia. After cresting the picturesque Gannaga Pass we stumbled across this proverbial 'one horse town'. It consists of a hotel, a general dealer and petrol pump, a boerbul breeder and the ubiquitous bottle store. Ouma Marthie welcomed us into the hotel lounge and spoke of how she had arrived with her husband Colin some 30 years ago. They continued the dream begun one hundred years earlier by Mr Daniel Tomlinson, the originator of this dorp. He was a Jewish lappiessmous from England, who decided to settle down. He chose a strategic spot on an old traveller's route to provide rest and provisions. And so we rested, and drank tea..... and wondered what the walls would tell us if they could speak.

Silence

Spent the past weekend in arid semi-desert that is fabulously flowered with post-rain splendour. The best part was that we had no electricity, no cell phone access, horizon to horizon blue sky, and ..... silence! Remember the bit in Psalm 23 that links 'besides still waters' and 'restores my soul'. Well my soul is restored.

Connecting with the Past

This afternoon my sister and I took my parents to see members of our extended family - who live on Riverton Farm. I have visited this farm for all my life. It now belongs to my cousin Duncan, who inherited it from his father George, who inherited it from his father, who inherited from his father. And so I returned to a familiar place, one that is deeply rooted in my bones. I inhabit a world that is in constant flux, and it is wonderful to return to a place that seems familiarly the same. Of course this is not true: we have all aged, and the farm is both mechanised and unionised. But for just a moment I was again that young boy on holiday on my uncles farm. And I was at peace.

Bread of Life

Joh 6:35 "I am the bread of life," Jesus told them. "Those who come to me will never be hungry; those who believe in me will never be thirsty.

When Jesus says “I am the bread of life” we should actually begin at a place that says: “I do not have a clue what he is talking about”.
The problem is that we forget the Jesus was speaking to Jewish people who lived 2000 years ago … and we try to understand this as if he was saying this today.

When Jesus says “I am the Bread of Life”: he is speaking as a middle-eastern Jewish man. and he was speaking to Middle-Eastern people 2 000 years ago. These were people who saw bread as something sacred. Because Bread was more than food: it represented a cycle of life:
- Bread speaks of those who planted grain – and of God who gave the sun, the rain to make the grain grow.
- Bread speaks of those who harvested the wheat – and of God who gives the strength for the harvest.
- Bread speaks of those who ground the grain, and made the bread mixture, and kneaded the dough, and put it in the oven – and of God who blessed people with water for the flour, and with earth to make bricks for the oven, and with fire to heat the oven.
So when the bread comes out of the oven, and people break the bread to eat it – this is a culmination of a long process of thanksgiving to God and to a community who made it.
Breaking bread together was a sacred moment – a reminder of everyone who had worked together to make this bread, and of all who sit down to eat it, and of God who made it all possible.

When Jesus says “I am the bread of life” he speaks of himself as holding the community together….. he is the centre of it all … he is the life of the whole community.

But I suspect that we are tempted to use a modern understanding of bread when it comes to our relationship with Jesus:

Bread, in today’s world – is a sandwich.
Bread is decorated – with tomato and cheese, or with jam.
Bread is what we eat while we wait for supper.
(I know that some of you will tell your tough times stories of how when you were little there was only bread and tea for supper).
But today’s world understands bread as a filler – something to keep you busy inbetween meals.
And this is how we understand Jesus:
We want Jesus the sandwich: Jesus as convenience food

 Jesus is useful when we have nothing else to chew on: we think of Jesus in between the “real’ stuff of life.

And then when we do think of Jesus, just like a sandwich, we want Jesus to suit our tastes
 We look for messages that we agree with: and when we hear a message that we do not like, we throw it away and find another one: a bit like saying – “I don’t like that sandwich filling, give me another”

 We want Jesus cut to a size that pleases us
And when Jesus has difficult things to say to us?
Well we treat them like the crusts on a sandwich – we cut them off!

Perhaps we can hear this echo today too:
The invitation to make Jesus the centre of everything:
The centre of our work: so that we are prepared to share our profits with those who have nothing.
The centre of our mealtimes: so that we are willing to share our food with those who are hungry.
The centre of our friendships: so that we give time to those who are alone in life.

A New Chapter

It is done. i was honoured to be asked to marry my friends John and Jolene in Kimberly today. I have been married for 27 years and I continue to believe in this particular way of organizing a relationship. I celebrate the richness of committing my life to the wellbeing of a beloved. I affirm the depth to be found in 'for better and for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health'. i pray that they might have joy and wisdom in their new chapter of life

Wide Open

A Kimberly farm, where stars diamond the night and a crisp cold invigorates the soul.

The King is dead – long live the King!*

This past week saw the commemoration of the death of Michael Jackson – and the recurring phrase “The King is dead” has dominated the media. Millions of people around the world were saddened by the death of “the King of Pop”. Many attended his memorial, and many more watched it on television. And mixed up in this was some amazing hyperbole, such as “he is the greatest entertainer this world has ever seen” (Really? In all the years of the existence of this world?).

This has been said before of others: Frank Sinatra: CNN wrote that “Sinatra was a master craftsman and ranked as one of the most influential singers in this country's history”. Elvis Presley is remembered as the King of Rock and Roll and the “greatest performer of all time”. And there are others. Charlie Chaplin surely must be considered one of the greatest entertainers ever . He was not only a great movie actor but also a comedian, musician, writer, director, mime and acrobat. And then there is “The Master” - Noel Coward – who was a playwrite, director, actor, writer, singer, comedian. And what of Judy Garland: she certainly dominated the movies as one of MGM's most popular stars ever. So the passing parade of “superstars”....each to briefly shine and then to fade.

Perhaps the truth we need to remember is found in Job 20:6 “They may grow great, towering to the sky, so great that their heads reach the clouds, but they will be blown away like dust. Those who used to know them will wonder where they have gone.” This is useful for us when we are tempted think that someone irreplaceable is gone. Because God will raise up new people in our lives. It is useful for us when we are tempted to overvalue our own importance. Because we are only what we are through the grace of God. And it is useful for us to be reminded that all of life is in God’s hands…. We are born, we live, and we die…. All of it in the care of God.


*This traditional proclamation is made following the death of the King. It was translated from the French “Le Roi est mort. Vive le Roi!", which was first declared upon the coronation of Charles VII following the death of his father Charles VI in 1422

Religion's own worst enemy

"No doubt about it, religion is often religion’s own worst enemy. The tension
between religion at its best and religion at its worst drives people from church
to church, searching for authenticity. It drives them, as well, from the God of
the institution to the God of the spirit within. When religion makes itself God,
when religion gets between the soul and God, when religion demands what
the soul deplores––a division of peoples, diminishment of the self, and
closed-mindedness––religion becomes the problem. . . . But religion at its
best anchors us to the best in ourselves. It enables us to find meaning in life.
It sets the human compass toward home. It raises our sights beyond ourselves".
Joan Chittister
Called to Question

The Homecoming (Mark Chapter 6)

Everybody loves the kid who makes good: he is the local who goes away and becomes famous. And then there is the “Homecoming”... when the locals welcome their own.


The Bible tells such a story: Mark Chapters 1-5 tells of how Jesus becomes famous:
• Ch 1: Jesus goes to Capernaum where he teaches with authority and heals people. And everyone is amazed.
• Ch 2 & 3: Jesus heals a man who is lying paralyzed on a bed. And he challenges the Pharisees and Teachers of the Law – and 12 men are so impressed that they decide to become his disciples.
• Mk 4: tells of a crowd that is so large that he has to sit in a boat just off shore to teach them
• Mk 5: Jesus heals a mentally sick man, a woman who has been ill for 12 years, and the daughter of Jairus.
Here is the local kid making it big: everyone flocks to Jesus. People want to hear his teachings.

Then comes Mark Ch 6:
This is the Homecoming……
It seems logical that Jesus should want to return to his local synagogue. This the place where it all began. Here is the place where he first learned his faith. He would have looked for those who prepared him for bar mitzvah. He would have looked for his religious mentors. And then he is asked to speak. And I imagine how proud his mother was. And then everything falls apart:

Mar 6:2 On the Sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue. Many people were there; and when they heard him, they were all amazed. "Where did he get all this?" they asked. "What wisdom is this that has been given him? How does he perform miracles?
Mar 6:3 Isn't he the carpenter, the son of Mary, and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas, and Simon? Aren't his sisters living here?" And so they rejected him.

This is not a happy story!
People say of Jesus: “where does he get this wisdom?”
They were not able to celebrate the evidence of his wisdom. They were jealous of it.

Note who the people are who speak like this.
- They are not the sick little girl who Jesus healed
- They are not the mentally ill man in the graveyard who got his mind back
- They are not the crowds out in the countryside
No: they are the religious people. It is the people of God who reject Jesus.

Allow me to suggest that this is not a story that remained in the pages of the Bible. This still happens today. It is sad to see how cruel church people can be:

I think of a member of the church who volunteered to do something for the Lord. And others got jealous: words were expressed such as “Who does he think he is?”
It became even worse – “I have been here all my life - He is just a newcomer”

I think of someone I knew who responded to a call to be a youth pastor: and when I took it to the leadership someone said:
“I know her family…… she must not think she is something special”

Well …. In the eyes of God everyone is special.
And if God calls someone – let us not try to put them down.
(Why is it that religious people are so cruel?)
And if you are called by God – look to the Lord… do not allow the opinions of people to make you inferior.
Eleanor Roosevelt once said: “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent”.

Rape Nation

Her mother is angry with her for reporting the rape to the police.
I fetched her for work today and she is struggling…. because her mother wants her to withdraw the criminal charge. She is accused of bringing shame on the family. Her mother says that her case at the police station will turn her brother into a criminal. “It is bad enough what has happened…. Why is she making things worse? “

This is a familiar story. The victim is further victimised by being asked to remain silent. In fact there is great silence in our land. South Africa is notorious for having one of the highest levels of rape in the world. Only a fraction are reported, and only a fraction of those lead to a conviction.

A recent study into rape and HIV in the rural Eastern Cape and Natal, by the Medical Research Council (MRC), has revealed the shocking statistic that one in four men admit to rape - and many have raped more than one victim. Professor Rachel Jewkes of the MRC, who carried out the research, said: "We have a very, very high prevalence of rape in South Africa. I think it is down to ideas about masculinity based on gender hierarchy and the sexual entitlement of men." ( Mail and Guardian ).

I agree with Barry .

What is wrong with us? What is wrong with masculinity? Even old-fashioned ideas about maleness suggests it’s the mens role to “protect” the so-called weaker sex. What kind of protection are we offering?
I am not in the 1 in 4 category. I have not raped a woman. Which puts me in the 3 in 4 group… But there’s no comfort in being in that group for me. I’m asking myself, what have we 3 done to make it possible for the 1 in4 to do what they have done?
How have we colluded with questionable ideas about being “men”?
How have we failed to speak out against attitudes and actions that are not respectful of women?
How have we failed to act - holding our fellow men accountable for their actions?
How can it be that 1 in 4 men have raped a women, and the other 3 know nothing about it? What is our (what is my) responsibility


I do not have easy answers. I do not know how to respond.
It sounds like a Christian evasion of responsibility to say – “I will pray about it”. But I am praying for guidance. Because we men cannot sit comfortably with this… Ever.

The Pain

She was raped by her brother.

They had had visited their mother’s home to celebrate her 80th birthday. And her brother began to drink. Later that night he raped his 40 year old sister. She screamed for help, but the rest of the house remained silent. They were too afraid of his drunken violence to respond to her distress. When it was over he ran away, leaving her broken. “I trusted him… and look what he has done” she said.

This was two months ago. A charge has been laid at the police station, but since then new crimes have overwhelmed the system. And he has vanished. So she has had to glue her life back together. She went to the clinic for tests, and they have said that she does not have HIV/Aids. She now wears lots of clothes to cover herself. She drinks at night to help herself sleep. And she glues a smile on her face to get through the day.

And I grieve for my twice-weekly domestic worker. She is trustworthy, caring and absolutely reliable. When we go away she looks after our home, loves our garden, and lavishly pampers our pets. When we are not coping with the domestic chores, she comes in and organises the washing, tidies the lounge and kitchen, and packs away stuff in hard to find places. And we love her dearly. And right now I wish that I could heal the broken places in her memories and relationships.

But I cannot.
So I offer her respect and dignity in our relationship. And pray for her to know that she is loved.

A Brave Woman

For millenia women have dedicated themselves almost exclusively to the task of nurturing, protecting, and caring for the young and the old, striving for the conditions of peace that favor life as a whole. ... The education and empowerment of women throughout the world cannot fail to result in a more caring, tolerant, just, and peaceful life for all.
- Aung San Suu Kyi,
Burma's pro-democracy leader and political prisoner, who turns 64 today and awaits the verdict on her most recent arrest.

My Epitaph

I am part of a group of men who meet once a month to hold each other accountable for the way we live our lives. And the question we were asked this morning was: “What do you want written on your tombstone – and what do you not want to have written?”

As I reflected on my life I realised that I have always been a responsible person.
It was drummed into me from small: “be responsible for your sister; think carefully before you commit to something, because you will be held responsible for your actions; go and study because you are responsible for your career; choose a job that has a pension and a medical aid, because you are responsible for your old age; take political responsibility for your country; take religious responsibility for your church…….. ”

Now this is the stuff of a successful life: everyone from my generation received this information – from parents, from teachers, from the very air that we breathed. We Baby Boomers are put together like this. And have this written on our consciences: “We are responsible for this mess….” But I no longer want this epitaph. I am tired of being responsible. I am tired of taking up causes. I am tired of feeling the weight of doing the right thing.

I want to be remembered for living adventurously. Oh Yes - there have been the moments when the adventure breaks through: like the time I took the family on a two month trip as far as the northern Uganda border; like the time I asked to live and work in a cultural environment different from the one I grew up in; like the motorcycle trips and the camping trips; But underneath it all lies the sense of “being responsible”. I feel responsible for my children’s education; for encouraging my wife’s failing health; for keeping my church solvent; for living an exemplary life; and for encouraging other people to keep going. And somewhere this crushes my spirit. Something has got to give.

So watch this space?
I really do not know. I will always act responsibly…. It is my nature. But I am determined to begin to shed those things that prevent me from living with more curiosity. I want to be more adventurous, more inquisitive, and far less sure of what each day brings. For example - inside of me is a writer struggling to get out. But this is always overshadowed by life’s duties. I am determined to allow the writing to break free, even if this means being irresponsible. For example - inside of me is a creative, non-conformist. But this is crushed by the tasks of authority and seniority. I am determined to shed the shackles of institutional expectations and allow the anarchic spirit of God free reign.

Methodist Conference banned

The Fiji military government, which overthrew the democratically elected government, has ordered the Methodist Church to cancel its annual conference.

The banning of the Methodist Conference follows information that "inciteful issues are going to be discussed at the conference", police spokeswoman Ema Mua confirmed. A statement issued jointly by the military and the police said the Methodist Church could not hide its involvement in politics as part of the agenda for the August conference focused on the current political situation.

The Methodist Church is the dominant denomination among the devout indigenous Fijians, who make up 57 percent of the total population of around 840,000. The Methodist leadership has been critical of the 2006 military coup of military chief and self-appointed prime minister Voreqe Bainimarama.
Bainimarama has since ruled out democratic elections before 2014.

This is an obedient Church - when a body of Christ followers chooses to speak truth to the powerful and the greedy without fear and favour. So I pray for the Methodist Church leaders of Fiji.

(And I really do wish that the leadership of the Methodist Church of Southern Africa could find the same capacity to speak truth in my country. The leadership of the MCSA are still too dazzled by their rich and powerful family and friends who sit in parliament, on government appointed committees, and in the corporate boardrooms to be of any use in speaking hard truths. My Bishops and Unit Leaders are in little danger of being arrested for discussing the political issues of the day – not because we have a constitution that allows freedom of speech (we do), but because my seniors seldom critique our Nation’s political and business agenda.)
And I pray for the Methodist Church of SA – that we might awaken from our contented slumber.

Faith

one description, by Martin Luther, of what it means to have real faith:
Auch wenn ich wüsste,
dass morgen die Welt zugrunde geht,
würde ich heute noch
einen Apfelbaum pflanzen.

Which being translated means:

Even if I knew that the whole world
was going to smash tomorrow,
Still, I would plant an Apple Tree today.

Bishop

Today the Synod elected Rev. Michel Hansrod as our next bishop. Pray for him as he prepares to take up this office.

Synod

I am at my Church Synod until Saturday.. This is an annual meeting of the leadership of the Methodist Church in and around Cape Town. I enjoy meeting my colleagues. I use this as a moment to learn from rhem, to share stories of our common life, and to network our skills and gifts. I do not enjoy the politics, the gossip, and the grinding administrative beurocrasy of my church. Pray that we might be open to God at work amongst us.

Be New Wine

Someone once said that old wine skins can’t handle new wine. They’ll burst. It is a picture of convention’s inability to endure change.

Once in a while I notice that I’m feeling more tired than usual, sad, bored, unmotivated, and easily distracted. It takes something like a two-by-four over the head for me to realize what’s going on.

Almost always, it’s because I’ve begun serving the system rather than the people. It’s because the machine has asserted its supremacy and priority over my life. And this always numbs my heart, stuns my mind and kills my passion. There is no single person to blame. It is the subtle yet insidious domination of the powers, so beautifully embodied in our thought systems, networks, institutions and traditions. It is the gravitational pull of all powers and authorities toward the death of the human spirit. It is when, because of my inattention, these powers begin to hold sway in my life that I fall into a debilitating hopelessness. My work, as a result, becomes mundane, boring, spiritless, monotonous and lifeless.


At this point I realize: I must change! Be transformed! My number one job is for personal transformation. Change is urgent! A new creature! I must become new wine again. Then the dry, old, oppressive and constricting systems can’t contain me. They will burst. I must avoid their traps. And if I unwisely fall into one of their traps, then I must be changed to break those chains that would imprison me. The key is not to wait for the new wine, but to become the new wine! Only then will I live in the freedom I’ve been promised.

Posted in thought by nakedpastor on the May 15th, 2009

A Cape Storm

The first storm of winter is rolling in. Tonight promises buckets of rain, gale force winds, and cold.

I am aware that there are people who do not have adequate shelter. and am grateful that I am wealthy enough to have a dry, warm home. My church has just given bags-full of clothes to needy people. I will make sure that we continue to help those who will get cold and wet.And so I light a log fire, prepare thick soup for supper, and listen to the pounding of the rain on the roof.

Dad

He has been a Methodist preacher for 60 years.

In 1949 my father was challenged to do something meaningful with his life, followed closely thereafter by the conviction that God was calling him to become a Christian Minister. Thus began a journey that my extended family celebrated with my Dad last Sunday – 60 years later.

He left the South African Air Force after World War Two and found a job at ISCOR in Pretoria. In his own words: “I had a choice of places to find friends – either in the pub or in the church. And I had had enough of the pubs while in the airforce.” And so in search of friends he joined a group of young adults in the Pretoria Central Methodist Church. And here found not only lifelong friends, but also a spiritual foundation that would shape the rest of his life. His theological thinking is rooted in Leslie Weatherhead and William Barclay, and his church practice takes place in the shadow of mentors like Dr David Bandy and the Rev Jack Cook.

I am proud of my father.
• He is a good teacher, who has given his life to explaining the Christian faith. Throughout the past 60 years he has written Bible Study notes, led weekly groups where he has encouraged people to live faithfully, and preached sermon series long before this became a familiar teaching tool.
• He is an innovative worship leader. He found ways to sing hymns and songs to contemporary music long before Hillsongs and Kingsway Music became the norm; he introduced “youth services” with drums and guitars into the Methodist Church of the 60’s and 70’s – again long before this was deemed acceptable; he has always produced thoughtful orders of worship that include personally written liturgy and creative congregational responses.
• He is an evangelical preacher. He does not preach for entertainment. Instead he preaches for a response. And he often includes an altar call which asks people to commit their lives to making a difference in society.

And Sunday was no different. He is 83 years old and has become frail. He cannot stand for the duration of the service, and so preached while sitting behind a table with his notes and a microphone in front of him. But his frailty does not dim his passion. He spoke of the call of God to take off the old garments and be clothed in the new garments of Christ. He noted that these are the garments of righteousness (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, self control) given us when the Spirit of Jesus lives within us. And he challenged us to a response: and some responded by walking to the communion rail and kneeling for prayer.

And I thanked God for Stanley James Grassow. He has remained faithful to the call of God.

Vicarious Suffering

Vicarious Suffering is a term used to describe one person seeking to ease the suffering of another person by taking on their suffering. I understood this yesterday when I took my daughter Amy to hospital. She had developed an enormous abscess at the base of her spine – which was surgically excised under general anaesthetic. I wished that I could have eased her suffering. I wished that she could give me some of her pain so that she could be more comfortable. And when the nurse caused pain during the changing of the dressing this morning I wanted to take it away.

The best I could do was to be alongside her / hold her hand / cry with her.

And in this moment I understand how God chooses to share our human sin/suffering as a way of leading us out of our mess. God suffers with us: bearing our sin, sorrow and sickness. In Jesus, God bears our injustice, abuse, pride, helplessness, doubt, hypocrisy, and hopelessness so that nothing would separate us from him and from Life. God thus becomes human and enters into our messy lives in solidarity with us. So Jesus died for us, with us, even as us...but not instead of us. Following Jesus is not the avoidance of suffering. In fact his death calls us to come and die with him. As we help those who suffer we discover that this exactly where God is to be found.

Baviaanskloof....Part Two.

The roar of motorcycles behind us heralded 5 KTM 900 motorcycles. We were having lunch after crossing the river, when we heard the approaching bikes. After some consultation, they were soon crossing the river. One intrepid adventurer took a tumble in the reeds. We helped to fish him out and made sandwiches for all. This is a journey to be taken lots of photographic stops in appreciation of an ancient unspoiled beauty. In addition to the protea, the trees and the birds, there are buck, and lots of 'Baviaan' - the name given by the early Dutch colonists to the baboon who populate this mountain range. This beauriful part of my country is much needed fresh air for an asphixiated office dweller.

Baviaanskloof

We drove 100km in six hours. Tony, driving a Toyota Explorer Cub campervan, Eric in his Honda CRV and my family in our trusty 1994 Toyota Raider, took the road eastwards through a long cleft between the Kouga and the Grootwinterhoek mountains. Signing ourselves into the Baviaans Nature Reserve we wound our way onto an ever more bumpy gravel road. It had been rain washed down to bedrock, and we ground our way slowly uphill. The vistas of folded mountains, sheer cliff drops, sunlighted peaks and deeply shadowed rivergorges were balm to our city-trapped souls. The narrow road caused moments of cautious manouvering to pass by the occasional oncoming vehicle. One memorable stretch of water and reeds had my daughter Jessie wading ahead of us to check for obstacles. My wife Jenny ploughed our Hilux through the water, followed successfully by Tony and Eric.. This is a journey to be taken slowly, with lots of photographic stops in appreciation of an ancient unspoiled beauty.

Tia Ghee

They promise luxury and leisure. And after our four nights in a game park and a full day's driving, this tented camp was exactly what we needed. It lies in a kloof just outside Patensie. In answer to the inevitable 'where?', this is a mission originated village near Port Elizabeth that sees the beginning/end of the beautiful Baviaanskloof (which is our next adventure). Kobus and Estelle Kok welcomed us with coffee/tea before taking us to our 'bedrooms'. These were tents erected on wooden platforms. Inside we found a double bed, duvets, bedside lights, carpets, and a warm snug night's sleep. Their motto is 'listen to the silence' and the stillness of the night was fabulous. The darkness was softened by candlelighted paths, and a communal log fire. Estelle's excellent catering ensured that we went to sleep with full tummys and left the next morning fortified with a marvelous breakfast. A visit well worth repeating.

Bullshit and Beauty

I love South Africa. This is a country of baffeling extreems. This past week we visited Laingsburg, Beaufort West, Aberdeen, Graaf Reinet, Cradock and in each were besieged by begging children. The poverty of these rural towns is sad. Somehow we as a country need to learn how to share our wealth. And this begins in the attitude of our hearts. Yet we are so blessed. Today i drove a 4X4 track through a game park. We experienced the beauty of golden-blond grasslands, blue tinged mountains, and vast vistas. We experienced the rich diversity of God's animal life, including: zebra, springbok, buffalo, bontebok, black wildebeest, reedbuck, black backed jackall. With this abundance there is so little reason for us to be selfishly posessive. The bullshit is the way we become comfortable with a few who have great wealth, and most who have very little. The beauty is always just below the surface - waiting to be unlocked.

Such a Tough Life

Mountain Zebra Park.

Uniquely Privileged

Camping at the Karoo National Park just outside Beaufort West. Drove through rain, which is greedily welcomed by the parched land. Soon this arid semi-desert will bloom green. There is life all around us: Mossies (Cape Sparrows) Red Bishops, Weavers and plenty of LBJs. Also tortoises, buck, baboons.... and allegedly lots of snakes. And so I sit in silence absorbing the sunset.

Going Camping

We are going away for a week.
First to the Karoo National Park; then on to the Mountain Zebra National Park. And home via the Baviannskloof. This will be in our Toyota Raider 4x4. And will include tents, animals, stars, rain, food cooked on fires, insects, and......
No meetings, no administration, no telephone calls to make, no traffic, no pressure.

I Voted

I joined the queue to vote.

The voting station is a short walk down the road. Although normally known as Plumstead Tennis Club, the property was today occupied by the Independent Electoral Commission. I was accompanied by my wife Jenny and her mother Edwina. Edwina turns 85yrs old this year, and was eager to vote. Mostly she wanted to “keep that blighter Zuma out”. I understood her sentiment, but pointed out that the greatest probability existed that our next President would be Jacob Zuma – whether she liked him or not.

We joined a queue…. greeting a number of neighbours already there. Eric and Angela were ahead of us, and soon emerged sporting blue painted thumbnails as proof of voting. Behind us was Mike from across the road. He and I spend time bewailing the Stormers Rugby team’s dismal string of losses in the Super 14 league. We both knew what should be done in selection, and wondered why the coach did not ask our advice. Others in the queue agreed with us and soon between us all, we had selected a better team. The mood of the day was relaxed, and it felt good to hang out with the neighburhood.

Then it was time to vote. We had our Identity Books checked, had our left thumb nail painted with indelible ink, and were presented with the ballot papers: one for the national government, and one for the province. And there I stood : deciding where to place my mark.

I have voted for the African National Congress ever since the emergence of our new South African democracy (before that I had refused to vote for racially segregated candidates). I vote for the ANC because they had led the struggle for liberation, and best represented the values I believed in. But I am currently not willing to give them my vote. I will not support their choice of Jacob Zuma as President. His innocence of corruption is the decision of a politically appointed Director of National Prosecutions, and ought to have been tested in a court of law. I am also unhappy with the way in which a political elite have enriched themselves, while the majority of the people in our country still struggle with issues of poverty, health and education. The final nail in the ANC coffin is the way in which they abandoned support for the Dalai Lama under pressure from China. Their proud history of struggle for human rights and justice lies in ruins.
But who else to vote for?
• The Democratic Alliance has been a testy political conscience in parliament – and more particularly in the Western Cape. But the DA is too white and too wealthy. When they have black leadership, and work for the poor, I might offer my support.
• The recently formed Congress of the People contained many who followed Thabo Mbeki out of leadership in the ANC. These were the people who supported Mbeki’s myopic view on HIV/Aids. These were the people who refused to support a probe into the arms deal. And for this reason it is very hard to be enthusiastic about them. The only reason they might get my vote is simply to prevent the ANC from political hegemony.
• The Rest are too small to make any political difference: I will not support the religious bigotry of the various Christian political parties; I will not touch the racial bigotry of the Afrikaner Vryheidsfront; I do like the feisty nature of Patricia de Lille – but she is really just “one woman and a political banner”.

So I stood locked in indecision. Until I finally made my mark – a vote intended as a protest against the abuse of power by ANC majority, rather than approval for any other party.

Democracy

Today South African citizens go to the polls.
Today will determine who will be the next SA government, who will be the official opposition and what coalitions and alliances may form over the next few days - and how this may end up affecting our rights as defined in the SA Constitution. Today we decide on the future of our country.
And so I am determined to vote – because this is as much my country as it belongs to those who would play God with my life.

Little People matter most

Susan Boyle, 48, walked on to the stage of the Britain’s Got Talent show and won the hearts of audiences across the world with her rendition of I Dreamed a Dream from the musical Les Misérables.

11 million people watched her first appearance on the programme. An unemployed Scottish woman, without the grooming and social graces of aspirant starlets, and a life confined to her cat, her house work and her local church, she was deliberately set up as a potential flop. I dread to think of how Susan would have left the stage if her voice had been less than exceptional. But the minute she began to sing she rendered the judges silent and the audience cheering on their feet.

More than 25 million have logged on to YouTube to see the clip of her audition. (If you haven't - then take a minute and look at the clip: Susan Boyle

Susan Boyle connects with me in a deep and powerful way. For me, not only does the ugly duckling spread her wings, but she takes on the cynical, patronizing judges and flattens them with her talent.

But there is more: Paul Wood is a construction worker in London, who builds video networks on the web in his spare time. Steve Rosenbaum tells how Wood had seen Susan Boyle in the auditions and decided to take a risk. He bought the URL Susan-Boyle.com and Sunday night - moments after the broadcast - he had a fan site for her up online. Four days later he had a website that gets close to a million page views a day and has over 12,000 registered members.

I am always attracted to the triumph of the “little person”. I cheer for the underdog to win…… and in our current world we just don't have enough of this stuff. Right now Governments are bailing out large financial companies while the little people suffer; political parties ignore the hardworking community workers in favour of their chosen candidates; and workers on factory floors are retrenched while company directors are paid handsome bonuses.

Perhaps here I glimpse the reality of the Easter story: an itinerant Jewish preacher who is crushed by the political and religious leaders of his day – only to rise again in defiance of those who would silence him.

So Susan Boyle and Paul Wood inspire me. And I will continue to believe that the marginalized, the outcast, and the rejected are the beloved of God.

A Saviour for All

It is Easter Sunday : and Cleopas has lost his faith.

He had travelled to Jerusalem for the Passover….which was a time when Jewish people are reminded of their liberation from Egypt!
And Cleopas had heard of Jesus – who he believed was the Messiah. He hoped that Jesus would use this moment to stir up the people to throw the Romans out. And the weekend had begun so well:
+ Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey in fulfillment of prophecy: The crowds recognized it and cheered him on.
+ Jesus entering the temple and challenging the religious rulers about the way they compromised with the Roman oppressors.
He had hoped for so much from Jesus.
Listen to him:………..
Luk 24:19 Jesus…was a prophet and was considered by God and by all the people to be powerful in everything he said and did. Our chief priests and rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and he was crucified.And we had hoped that he would be the one who was going to set Israel free!

Here is a disillusioned man. Jesus had been arrested, tried and executed. And now he walks back home from the Passover – a cynic. We can hear him saying to himself: “I trusted Jesus – and he let me down. I am sorry that I ever believed in him”

There are many today in the same place. These are people who go through religious experiences: They fervently say their prayers, go to church, go through confirmation/baptism; and then they are disappointed and abandon it all. And like Cleopas end up saying that this is all nonsense.

Cleopas was disillusioned. But there were things about Jesus that Cleopas did not know. And this “not knowing” limited his experience of Jesus. Ceopas believed that Jesus was a Jewish Messiah who had come to throw out the Romans and extablish a Jewish Kingdom. But Jesus was way more than this: Jesus never came to save one group of people. He came for the whole world. He was a messiah to the Jewish people in Jerusalem, but also to the Greeks, and the Romans, and the Medes and the Persians, and the Babylonian – and every other nation on earth.
Remember
• the words of Jesus when he goes into the temple on Palm Sunday?
He quotes from Isaiah 56:7 “My house shall be a house of prayer for all nations” The anger of Jesus was that there were people who were being prevented from worshipping God:
• the words of Jesus when he hung on the cross?
“Father forgive them”...Not Father forgive some and punish others!

Cleopas needed to discover a Messiah who was not just for him. And just like Cleopas, we too become disappointed when Jesus does not do things for me. It is easy to treat Jesus like my private possession. But Jesus is not “my” best friend. He is my Savior – and the Savior of everyone too.

And so the invitation: To discover that Jesus loves people from outside of “my group”. Jesus loves people who are like me, and people who are not like me – and even people who I do not like.

Check the following picture. It was designed to get us thinking. And in Seattle stirred up so much debate that the shopping malls refused to allow this to be displayed in poster form.

Finished

PERSONAL DETAILS
Name : PETER GRASSOW
Country : South Africa
Province : Western Province
Club : ACSIS VARSITY OLD BOYS RUNNING CLUB
Gender : Male
Age : 51
Category : Age 50-59 (Master)


RACE INFORMATION
Race Date : Saturday 11 April 2009
Distance : Half (21 km)
Race Number : 53677
Cut-off Time : 03:00 hours


SUMMARY
Finish Time : 02:22:35
Average Speed : 8.879 km/h
Average Speed : 6.757 min/km
Medal : Bronze

crucified

God was executed by people painfully like us, in a society very similar to our own ... by a corrupt church, a timid politician, and a fickle proletariat led by professional agitators.

- Dorothy L. Sayers,
The Man Born to Be King (1943)

We are Cut Down to Size....

South Africa experienced a miracle in 1994.

We moved from an oppressive racially based oligarchy to a democratically elected government. Our law was protected by an internationally acclaimed new constitution. And we boasted leaders of international stature – politicians such as Nelson Mandela, priests like Desmond Tutu; jurists such as Arthur Chaskalson and Albie Sachs; and many eminent writers, musicians and scientists.

We believed that we had something to offer the world. We believed that we had transcended narrow racial boundaries; moved beyond self-serving ideological disputes to build a “rainbow nation”; and were able to make visible the African concept of Ubuntu . I have travelled to various places in the world to speak of our national “miracle” experience….Northern Ireland; York, England; and various Methodist Seminaries in the United States of America.

Today I admit that I have been smugly deluded. I have allowed myself to be blinded by the newness of our land – and have not noticed that the same old things are still happening:
• The Apartheid politicians I despised had developed a system of self enrichment that was gleefully embraced by the new democratically elected representatives of the people. They learned how to inflate travel claims; and create jobs for their friends and family; and cobble together gifts and favours for themselves.
• The amoral Apartheid politicians set up systems with international arms traders that were taken over by the new government. And the same bribes/rewards/incentives were gratefully pocketed.
• The selfish Apartheid leadership manipulated the law to suit their personal agenda – a lesson well learned by this next generation of leaders.

And so today I witness Jacob Zuma, the next President of my country, weasel his way out of being charged for corruption and financial misappropriation of funds. He leads a political party that welcomed international solidarity when they were struggling for power – but now it refuses to stand in solidarity with Myanmar and Tibet. This is the party that enthusiastically embraced Desmond Tutu when he berated the sins of the Apartheid government, but now dismissively insults him when he points out the sins of the current government.

Today South Africa ceased to be something special amongst the nations of the world. We are just another Third World Country, adding to the litany of human rights failures.
BUT: this is my country. I am reminded (once again) that the struggle for liberation is never finished. I have been placed by God in this country to speak for truth. I refuse to give up the dream for a better land for all.

Thou shalt not be a victim.
Thou shalt not be a perpetrator.
Above all, thou shalt not be a bystander.
- Holocaust Museum, Washington, D.C

“being honoured” is a very fickle thing.

Today is Palm Sunday.

It is the day that we are reminded that Jesus was honoured by Jerusalem… but this reminder always lies in the shadow of Good Friday – when Jerusalem stripped him of his honour.
Mark’s Gospel tells of a crowd that gives Jesus great honour.
Mar 11:8 Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields.
Mar 11:9 Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

But this is a bitter sweet moment…. Because it does not last.
A week later there is another crowd gathered around Jesus:
But this time they are hostile:
Mar 15:12 Pilate spoke again to the crowd, "What, then, do you want me to do with the one you call the king of the Jews?"
Mar 15:13 They shouted back, "Crucify him!"
Mar 15:14 "But what crime has he committed?" Pilate asked. They shouted all the louder, "Crucify him!"

Two crowds – the same man – two different reactions.
Which really illustrates the way we human beings can be shaped by the people around us.

I saw this in this past week of South African history:
1994: Desmond Tutu is the chaplain to the President of the ANC. Nelson Mandela asks him to pray for the nation and the crowds all bow their heads.
2009: The ANC refuse to listen to anything that Desmond Tutu says.
The same man – two different crowds…….

My prayer is that God would continue to strengthen Bishop Tutu. My prayer for him is found in the Palm Sunday Psalm:
Psa 118:26 May God bless the one who comes in the name of the LORD! From the Temple of the LORD we bless you.
Psa 118:27 The LORD is God; he has been good to us. With branches in your hands, start the festival and march around the altar.

Praying Together

Today I am praying.......accompanied by my colleagues Kevin, Mark and Andre.

Bikers

They come in all shapes and sizes. They range from motor mechanics to business executives. Their common love is the motorcycle. The men camped one side of me were school teachers, their bikes were Harley-Davidson wannabees and they ride every day to work; the other side was a farmer from Ottosdal on a BMW touring bike. He admits to riding his bike three time a year... to three different bike rallys.

So we escape from life for a weekend. And we have permission to dress up and strut our stuff. And swear and drink beer and rev the engines of our bikes and do wheelies and generally remind ourselves of what it felt like to be rebellious and carefree.

Then we go home and resume our daily responsibilities.
Feeling just a little bit lighter.
With a glint in the eye.

Bikes

The Morning After

Buffing

Jenny and I are in a tent surrounded by thousands of motorcycles, people, revving bike engines, beer, badges, motherfuckerteeshirts, burnouts, attitude, chrome, music, raw obscenities, braai, popping exhausts, beautiful custom spraypaint..; all adds to the atmosphere of the 2009 Buffako Motorcycle Rally.