Father Michael Lapsley

Father Michael Lapsley, Anglican priest and peacemaker

When Nelson Mandela walked free from jail in February 1990, millions celebrated the symbolic end of the hated system of apartheid with the expectation of peace. Yet three months after Mandela's release,an Anglican priest, who had spent most of his adult life working against the racist system in South Africa, had both his hands blown off by a bomb sent by apartheid security forces. He also lost one eye after a parcel bomb exploded in his hands in Zimbabwe, at a time when all the strife could have been ending.
Anglican priest Michael Lapsley was that man. He had come to South Africa from New Zealand in 1973, and was shocked when he saw the level of discrimination and racial oppression in the country. Later he joined the then outlawed African National Congress, which now rules South Africa, and he became a chaplain to the ANC, but had to leave the country. At the WCC people were queuing up for his book Redeeming the Past: My Journey from Freedom Fighter to Healer, chronicling his experiences in the last 20 years. The book is published by the World Council of Churches and released at the WCC Assembly. At the launch, he said, "My participation as a chaplain and priest in the liberation movement had prepared me for the possibility of death. What it had not prepared me for was the possibility of permanent major physical disabilities". Today, Father Michael heads the Institute for the Healing of Memories. This facilitates the healing process of individuals and communities in South Africa and internationally. It says of itself that it redeems the past, "by celebrating that which is life-giving, and laying to rest that which is destructive". "It seemed to me that we would not create a very nice society if we were filled with hate and bitterness," Lapsley told the book signing audience about his reason for founding the Institute for the Healing of Memories. "If horrible things happen to us we've got good reasons to hate, we've got good reasons to be bitter, we've got good reason to want revenge. But if we keep that stuff in us, it doesn't destroy our enemies, it destroys us." During the question and answer period following Lapsley's short address, one audience member asked if he had personally reconciled with his attackers. Lapsley responded, "As I sit here tonight, I don't know who made the bomb. I don't know who gave the instructions. I don't know who wrote my name on the envelope. Sometimes when I speak people say oh Father, you're a wonderful example of forgiveness. I say, but I didn't mention the word forgiveness. I said I'm not full of hatred, I'm not bitter, I don't want revenge but I haven't forgiven anybody because for me there is nobody yet to forgive." Lapsley went on to explain the complicated work of forgiving one's aggressors. "In our healing of memories workshops in South Africa, the question that people raise most frequently and something they struggle with is forgiveness. For most human beings forgiveness is costly, it's painful, it's difficult. In our faith tradition we speak of grace. Often it's so big, we need the power of God even to want to want to forgive. He also preached during the final service of the WCC Assembly on November 8th. Lapsley said, "My dear Sisters and Brothers, I often ask myself: 'Why did you survive a bomb that was supposed to kill you?' So many others deserved to live but did not. I think it was important that some of us survived to bear witness to what war and hatred does to the bodies and souls of people. "Much more importantly, I hope that in my own tiny way, I can be a sign that stronger than evil and hatred and death are the forces of justice, kindness, gentleness and compassion - of peace - of life - of God," said Father Michael. Lapsley's closing remarks were a call to the Church to stand alongside victims. "If I can say something tough, sometimes in the Church we use forgiveness as a weapon against hurting people... People have to have their pain acknowledged before they can begin to travel the journey of forgiveness. Also, forgiveness is messy. I forgive you today but I'm not sure about tomorrow."

Historical election of women in WCC

New Vice-Moderator, Bishop Mary Ann Swenson (USA), and new Moderator, Dr Agnes Abuom

The World Council of Churches' newly installed 150-member Central Committee has elected its first African and first women to the position of moderator.
Dr. Agnes Abuom of Nairobi, from the Anglican Church of Kenya was elected moderator on November 8 after its first meeting following the Assembly, the highest governing body of the WCC which ended hours earlier. Abuom was elected unanimously to the position, as the first woman and the first African in the position in the 65-year history of the WCC, the world church grouping said in a statement Saturday. My open prayer is that we shall move forward together, in the next years, despite our diversities that have the potential to divide us," Abuom said shortly after her election. She said she wanted the WCC to "continue to remain an instrument for providing a safe space for all who can come and share their hopes, aspirations and visions, and prophetic voice." Aboum said a prophetic voice is vital for "ecumenism in the 21st century and the Church in our world today." She said says the model of consensus governance of the WCC "resonates very well with feminine decision-making processes," consultative and careful listening and seeking to understand the other person's perspective. Abuom's areas of work include economic justice, peace and reconciliation.
(Two vice-moderators were elected, United Methodist Church Bishop Mary Ann Swenson from the United States and Rev. Gennadios of Sassima of the Istanbul-based Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople). "

West Papua - Oh, My Land Papua anthem

I'm back home in Australia, but so very touched by this update from WCC finishing today in Busan, Korea.
This article by Netani Rika, and posted on Facebook by Pacific Conferences of Churches. 

West Papuan delegates, WCC Assembly, Busan, Korea

Words failed me. As the strains of the banned anthem Oh, My Land Papua faded away and tears streamed down the cheeks of the members of the Papuan delegation at the World Council of Churches 10th Assembly, the audience was left emotionally drained. The reality had finally dawned. Here stood a people, strangers for 52 years in the land of their ancestors, stopped from singing their hymn of praise of tanah – their vanua, brutally punished by the Indonesian security forces for daring to suggest that they wanted self-determination. Here stood a people who have attempted for more than half a century to bring justice into their homes in the face of an international and church community which conveniently turns a blind eye to their struggle. Not two months ago Australian Foreign Minister Bob Carr claimed the international community had no interest in the situation of the indigenous people of West Papua. Australia and the United States may not be interested in the people but they have a definite interest in the gold and timber in the forests of West Papua, along with the potential gas and oil off the coast. The United Nations – which shirked its responsibility in 1961 and failed to block Indonesia’s annexing of the former Dutch colony – has done nothing, possibly out of shame, So they have remained blind and silent to the plight of these people who finally claimed a place on the international stage. The world’s churches, until now complicit with the UN and the global powers through their silence – were forced to open that space by the Pacific delegation to the WCC 10th Assembly. At this religious forum representative of more than 500 million Christians the irony of this forgotten people making a political statement was not lost. That was what brought tears to the eyes of people who did not know the words of the West Papuan anthem. Here stood a people singing their song in a strange land. Psalm 137 tells of the lament of the Israelites being forced by their Babylonian captors to sing songs of praise to God while the captors laughed until their sides hurt and tears rolled down their faces. “How can we sing in a strange land?” the Israelites asked. But here stood a people for whom singing this song in their own land would mean death, a fate faced by more than 100,000 Papuans at the hands of the Indonesian military in the last 52 years. Here they stood, tears streaming down their cheeks, allowed to sing only in a strange land. Tears of joy at being able to sing their anthem. Tears of pain, remembering the struggles of more than half a century. Tears of gratitude to the Pacific community for allowing them space on stage. The Papuan anthem was a surprise feature of the final performance of the Pacific Oikoumene Group. Pacific church leaders stood with their youth representatives, ready to sing the last item. Then they parted as the Papuan delegation led by drummers and took the front row, dressed in grass skirts and wearing their Bird of Paradise headdress. Their backs straight, right hands held across their chests, the Papuans broke into song. They sang in unison – men and women – with a haunting male descant piercing the silence and hearts of the audience. Not an eye in the house was dry. A Papuan woman watching off stage wept, her handkerchief held to her face long after the anthem ended. As thunderous applause broke out the Papuans turned to each other and embraced in what must have been a bittersweet moment. Here in Busan they had broken the ceiling of international isolationism but they must return to a land which – although theirs in spirit – is no longer their own. It belongs in essence to a foreign occupier. After the brief euphoria of helping a forgotten people gain a political milestone, a new reality dawned on the audience. For the people of West Papua, the struggle is far from over. Drained of emotion for fleeting seconds, the vacuum in my soul started to fill with anger and then – as it overflowed – a sadness so compelling a cynical journalist was forced to turn from the crowd, unable to see through the camera viewfinder. Words failed me.

The Courage to be One

Rev Prof Andrew Dutney was a speaker at one of the conversations at the World Council of Churches - United and Uniting Churches. He's uploaded the content of his input on his web page - an interesting read!
Here's a section reflecting on Korean churches, and Korean congregations in the UCA:

The UCA continues to be a uniting church in the sense of providing a space within which divided denominations can be reconciled. The experience of Korean ministers and church members in the UCA provides an example.
The Uniting Church has partnerships with the Presbyterian Church of Korea (PCK), the Presbyterian Church in the Republic of Korea (PROK) and the Korean Methodist Church (KMC). During my visit to Korea last year the Moderator of the PCK spoke to me earnestly about the importance and difficulty of bringing together their divided denominations. He thought this might be one of the ways in which the UCA could help the PCK in the 21^st century.
Through Rev Park’s eyes I saw for the first time the ecumenical significance of the inauguration of a UCA Korean Presbytery.
In December 2011 the 23 Korean congregations in the NSW Synod were brought within the oversight of the new Presbytery. It was the latest development in a long process of enabling Korean speaking congregations and ministers to participate more fully in the Uniting Church. And I’m told that they are genuinely enthusiastic about the Uniting Church and especially its Basis of Union. In fact, a portion of each Presbytery meeting is devoted to studying the Basis of Union, one paragraph at a time.
I had generally viewed this process as a practical example of the church’s commitment to being authentically multicultural. And that’s certainly the way it was reported. But seen through the eyes of the PCK Moderator, it was primarily an example of the Uniting Church’s ecumenical commitment and achievement. The Uniting Church wasn’t uniting with the PCK, the PROK and/or the KMC. But ministers and members of those three denominations (and some others as well) were finding that the Uniting Church and its Basis of Union could facilitate their union in Australia – even while it was still too difficult in Korea.

Leaving Korea

Korea is a country of beauty - and many mountains. This 'Hillside Hymn' by Chung Dong-Muk was in the Korean Airlines magazine.

fog over the mountains in Korea

It is time for me to leave behind
The mountains in which I have dwelt
This departure I had waited for
But when I gazed at the fog
Then I made up my mind
To take off, with a bellyful of fire
I am now bound to arrive
Beneath the sheltering trees
Down a steep mountainside
To live with my head craned to the sky.

A bellyful of fire - seems appropriate after an enlivening WCC Assembly!

WACC - World Association for Christian Communication

I'm reading a handout by World Association for Christian Communication (WACC). I'm impressed at the linking of human rights and communication.

'In North America, Latin America, Europe, Asia and Australasia - wherever groups of people have been systematically victimised - thousands are still living with the pain if past atrocities, acts that have remained publicly unacknowledged. Their right to public memory has been suppressed. You can't really claim to have freedom of expression unless you have the right to know and remember what happened in the past, and to tell your stories in public' (Philip Lee, WACC deputy director of programs).

Certainly makes me think deeply about Aboriginal people in Australia. Sorry Day, and the Apology to the Stolen Generations, goes part of the way. I remember how moved I was by Henry Reynold's book, Why Weren't We Told?

The flip side is, who is stopping the stories from being told publicly? Who is served by suppressing these stories?

'We are looking at the role of mass media in this process since they are often owned by government or conservative business interests that stand to reap political and economic gains by suppressing these stories' (Philip Lee)

WACC believes that communication plays a crucial role in building peace, security and a sense of identity as well as in promoting justice, mutual accountability and transparency. Communication, WACC believes, contributes to the common good.”

While affirming that there can be “no peace without justice,” WACC’s members and partners would add that that there can be “no peace without communication.”

With the help of today’s information and communication technologies (ICTs), mass, community and social media play a fundamental role in countries throughout the world. ICTs are the nervous system that keeps people informed about ongoing events and issues in their communities, societies and nations. Indeed, genuinely participatory societies depend on a vast range of information and knowledge to enable them to function democratically.

In times of global conflict or local violence, when huge resources are shifted from peaceful activities to military agendas and many lives are at risk of being lost, people also need a diversity of reliable sources of information and communication to make informed and responsible decisions.

Peace with justice means peace with communication: Communication based on genuine dialogue. Communication that is truth-oriented, people-oriented and solution-oriented. Communication that is open to an inclusive range of people, ideas, and visions aimed at bringing about peace with justice.

God of life, lead us to build peace in today's world

My final plenary at WCC - the peace plenary, sharing stories, images and signs of hope that God is leading us to justice and peace. It began with the usual greetings from church leaders including one from Lebanon.

The Anglican Archbishop from Capetown, South Africa, introduced two speakers - Leymah Gbowee a peace activist from Liberia and Nobel Peace laureate, who spoke about the movement of women who activate for peace, and Dr Chang Yoon Jae (Seoul) speaking about peace on the Korean Peninsula concerns over nuclear power plants in Asia,a nd environmental issues. He asked for the lights to be dimmed in the auditorium and then lit a candle in the darkness. 'It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness'. We sang together, 'this little light of mine' in the darkness (well, almost darkness - plenty of flashes from the cameras focused on the little candle!). Very moving.