"I will blot out your sins..." (Isaiah 43:25)

This quote from Isaiah is given by God to the people of Israel as assurance that they will be forgiven. It has the sense of a slate being wiped clean and is especially familiar in Lenten readings. This quote came to my mind in a very different way as I walked around the Cathedral of St. George in Grahamstown where I preached and for whom I led workshops on healing.

Typical of English style Cathedrals, memorials line the walls extolling the virtues and accomplishments of those they remember. One plaque was in memory of a verger who after decades of service dropped dead in the aisle. The brass plaque gave him the credit such service merited and lauded him even as he “entered glory not far from this spot.”

Many of the memorials are for young men killed in the various wars and battles between the English and Xhosa people in the 1800’s. Curiously, marble strips have been placed on the plaques blanking out references to that time that are today unacceptable. It was done some years ago and no one today knows what those references are. It seems there’s another way to blot out sins!

History is mostly written by the winners of conflict. The pride of victory too frequently negates those vanquished, their lives and dreams, and their humanity. Loving one’s enemies, as Jesus taught, makes battle a horrific enterprise since we have to be aware that we are hurting and killing our brothers and sisters, even as we seek to protect ourselves. Battles of offense are unacceptable.

Victors of offensive battle do not usually see the hubris of their causes. Words that were engraved with great pride in the 1800’s are shockingly shameful in this millennium. I can’t imagine what was blotted out of those plaques, but given what they left untouched, it had to be very bad!

Words, phrases and references that are hurtful to people need to be challenged and stopped. Making real our belief in the dignity of all people extends to the words we use that hurt. We wince at words and music written in times gone by that shock us with today’s awareness. But what do we do with Shakespeare, Wagner or Disney? They all have examples or racist, misogynistic, or anti-Semitic words. Do we throw out the words and music we no longer tolerate? Do you store them on a shelf or change them?

There is a debate in the Cathedral about keeping the plaques up at all. Some want them removed and disposed of in an undignified way. Others are content to remove them and store them for historic value. Still others want them to remain up and like having the portions blotted out as a witness that we cannot forget the past but will not tolerate their offensiveness. Similar arguments are forceful in memorials to the Jewish Holocaust. To blot out all reference is to risk forgetting the atrocity. As the debate continues the plaques remain on the wall. However, newer plaques, musical instruments, and works of art witnessing the new South Africa with bold colors and vibrant spirit are up and witness a triumph of their own. These are up, not at the cost of another people, but in celebration of them.

Safari

A trip without distraction is not worth taking...

(Justin Marozzi, The Way of Herodotus)

Women of Courage

Isibindi means courage. The Isibindi Program has about 50 sites throughout South Africa located mostly in the black townships - often referred to also as "locations". Women from the townships are recruited and trained to be case workers who then go into homes of families who have requested their help in caring for children orphaned by AIDS. Most often the children are related in some way, though some are taken in my neighbors.

The help a case worker offers ranges from teaching about medicines and condoms to helping with home work. Advocacy is also a big part of their work in the legal, educational and even social arenas. There is emotional support for girls and women abused and raped by neighbors or family members. They will visit, travel with, sit with and fight for the women and children in their care.

The squalor of these townships is appalling and the conditions under which the families live and these women do their work is heart breaking. Yet living in the townships they earn trust by making relationships not only with the clients but those watching to see how this program works - before they too request help.

Sisters Monica and Heidi (from the order of the Little Sisters of Jesus) have management oversight for three Isibindi sites and are formidable advocates in directing the program and raising funds to offset the meager support from the Easter Cape Province. They train managers who train and give support to the case workers. Their office is the mini-van they drive in hundreds of miles each week. A focal point for each site is a playground with classrooms made out of storage containers or corrugated metal. Around the yard are swings and a slide with tables and chairs in whatever shade can be found.

A new initiative is creating Safe Parks, expanding into the rural communities with other fenced in yards. These are supervised so children can play away from crushing chores, often abusive households, molestation or attacks. Since the heat can be oppressive, shade coverings are constructed. Bathroom facilities are corrugated steel out houses. As hard s it is for most of us to comprehend this level of poverty, these safe parks are a stride forward to give these children safe environments to have a childhood.

The Isibindi Program began approximately eight years ago and is growing out of the desperate need. Heidi and Monica started this program four years ago with 18 children. They now have over 1400 registered. There are 14 case workers and 5 managers. Each case worker has about 45 families they visit.

The staggering need would overwhelm most people. These women have a courage and conviction that dwarfs anyone I've ever met. Some told me stories of their lives and what led them to what they describe as their vocation. Rising from cultural conditions that keep women down, they found voices that freed them and they call out to other women with life giving hope.

As I was leaving I asked if I could take their picture. Not only could I, but they wanted to sing a song for me. I'm unable at this point to upload the video I took with my camera, but their voices sang out with strength and beauty. I was speechless and stood there in tears. When I finally could talk, I asked them if I could pray with them. They smiled wide and we held hands praying God's blessing on their work and the children they serve.