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.