The Anglican Archbishop in upper class Newlands

The Anglican Archbishop in upper class Newlands
The irony of history is sometimes quite striking. The all black Lutheran church to which I belong, has never had an office in centrally placed areas, all of which once were only for whites. This is turning out to be a slow tragedy as some of the better off Lutherans gradually move over to the more affluent churches, which are to be found in formerly white areas and not in black townships.
Anglicans on the other hand, is not an all black church but consists of all kinds of people, also many whites. The leadership is gradually becoming predominantly black and these leaders, by virtue of the church’s structures, now find themselves in offices and cathedrals which are situated in previously white areas. It is a good thing to overcome the old borders of apartheid, but I thought that this Anglican leadership might in the process lose some of its attachment to the poorer areas and people. I even thought that it would be much better if the Anglican Archbishop, Thabo Makgoba, would have his office somewhere else, either right in the city centre, or in one of the townships.
The reason for my thoughts was most profane. Last Thursday I had the morning Eucharist in St George’s cathedral as usual (as a Lutheran this is quite possible to do). An elderly lady came up to me after the service and asked or pleaded rather that someone must take her to the archbishop’s place as she was a close friend of theirs. The hotel where she was staying had not been able to organise transport to his office but had sent her to the cathedral instead perhaps assuming that he should be there somehow.
The Archbishop stays in Bishopscourt which is in Newlands on the other side of the mountain. As I was going that way I offered the lady a lift. I had been there several times before so I thought this should not be a big problem. Off we went, but once in Newlands I could not find the street. I could not recollect the name of it and I had thoughtlessly left to city map at home. There were also no signs to guide us. The lady was very nice and talkative. Her son had been to the same school as the archbishop in Johannesburg and she was now looking forward to seeing the couple in their new home and his office.
After a few minutes I was almost panicking. I could be at the most 1 – 2 kilometres away from the place but I had nothing to go by. I used to go jogging in this area, which I liked thanks to the lush trees and wide streets, but now I was lost. I asked one or two people, but nobody knew anything. Then thanks to my wife who helped me (cell phones, how did you cope before without them?) to find a number despite being quite stressed up on her way to work, I could find the guest house with the same name, as part of the church. But the lady answering my call at the gate said without hesitation: where the archbishop’s office is I have no idea….
A was gripped by that feeling of being totally lost, not because I did not know where I was roughly, but because there was no one to help and give direction. This is South Africa on a deeper level, I could write another book about this. Apartheid has not only divided people into different population groups with specific areas. In each area there are different layers. Servants, gardeners, domestic helpers, those in other words who walk the streets in formerly white areas, do not know where streets are and names and such things, only their own destination. It is effectively not their suburb. Those who know sit in a car and would not easily stop for someone who is foolish enough to ask for directions.
I once helped a young black man an early morning about five years ago to find his way. I asked him into my house so that we could look at the map together. He almost broke down in tears. Who was I who wanted to help him in this way? He went off light in heart but shaking his head as if in disbelief, as if he had experienced something completely unreal.
So here I was with this talkative elderly lady from Johannesburg who was eagerly waiting to see the archbishop and his dear wife; but she did not seem to bother, she rather seemed to like the ride, that same ride which I detested. She told me a lot of things, also that her son indeed now was a very rich man thanks to the hotel business. He was a boss in the Southern Suns Hotel chain. This did not console me at all. Now, thanks to my wife whom I had stressed up a second time, just before she could be off to work for the real phone number for the archbishop’s office. Before that I had also tried St George’s cathedral office but I soon realized that the staff were all in church for their edification; their special service always takes place a little later on Thursday morning.
Eventually I got the right number from my wife and lo and behold somebody answered despite the fact that the elderly lady had told me that the people at Bishopscourt indeed also had a morning service at this time which she also would have wanted to have attended; but I could still sense that she really did not mind sitting in my nice car cruising along in the upper-class, lush Newlands.
We made contact and within 3 minutes we had found the place. No signs really, until we were at the very gate. We entered driving in. I saw immediately that there had not been a gardener in this Bishopscourt for quite some time and grass was coming up in between the tiles all over. But it is a nice place. I quickly handed over the elderly lady from Johannesburg and off I went. On the way back I started to wonder why the new archbishop did not move his office to a more nearby place. Why does he want to live and work incognito, in a place where very few of his people feel at home?
One could understand why Desmond Tutu saw the point in staying on at Bishopscourt when he became the archbishop of Cape Town in 1986. The very staying on was in itself a statement against apartheid. Staying on today is not such a statement any longer. Now is a time of transformation and it would be far better and far more challenging if the archbishop opened an office either right in town, in the city or in a black township like Gugulethu. Why should the majority of the people have their leaders in places where they do not feel at home? I almost was a little proud that our Lutheran church in all its shortcomings at least has leaders who are staying with and are living with their own people.