St. Margaret's Sermon Archive
Pentecost XVI - Anne Figge 09/24/06
ANNE FIGGE, MISSIONARY TO SOUTH AFRICA
“May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be always favorable in your sight O Lord our strength and our redeemer.”
I have not heard this prayer since I left St. Margaret’s last year. It sounds quite wonderful to my ear. And it feels quite wonderful to be back at St. Margaret’s. Good morning to you all. Thank you for having me. My name is Anne Figge, and I have spent the last year in Umtata, South Africa as a missionary of the Episcopal Church USA, and your official representative. I claim St. Margaret’s as my sending parish because of the formative time that I spent here and because of your support, through prayers, correspondence and financial donations. I am very grateful for all of these. I know that the ‘prayers of the people’ may be more or less meaningful on any given Sunday, but as someone who has been on the receiving end, please know that I feel those prayers keenly and am very grateful. So, I am here today to say thank you, and to ‘report back’ about my year as a missionary, and to share a little bit of my vision for the next ten months I will spend in Umtata.
When Susan asked me if I wanted to do this, she said for me just tell my story. And, I think it starts with the last time I stood up here a year ago. I spoke to the congregation about doing a year of missionary service in South Africa to learn about reconciliation. I was very unsure of how exactly I was going to do this. So in September of last year, to get my feet wet, I started by visiting a missionary couple in the Eastern Cape of South Africa. The McConnachies have been missionaries in this region of South Africa for over 20 years. Chris is an orthopedic surgeon and Jenny is a nurse. They seemed like the perfect people to talk to about how things have changed over the years. They have made their home in Umtata a smallish city in the Eastern Cape since the region was a Bantu homeland designated for the Xhosa people. The history of the area really seemed to fit with what I was looking for. If I wanted to learn about reconciliation, I needed to start at the beginning of the South African story. And yet the more I learned about the area, the more I realized that in this part of the country, more things have stayed the same in the “new South Africa” then have changed. The area is still 95% black, very rural and traditionally Xhosa as well as markedly underserved in comparison to other parts of the country.
I began working with Jenny McConnachie at the Itipini Shantytown, a temporary settlement on the outskirts of Umtata. It is your standard shantytown, albeit built upon the former municipal dump. The ‘homes’ are made of scraps of tin, bits of tarp, tires, newspapers, you name it. They sit upon layer and layers of trash, scattered broken glass, rusty cans old plastic bags. The settlement accommodates about 3,000 people and stretches down the banks of the Umtata river. At its center stands the Itipini Community Project, a cluster of buildings housing a primary health care clinic, a pre-school, a feeding program, a craft guild and a youth development program. Having now been there a year, I have difficulty recalling exactly how I felt when I first arrived, so I consulted my journal. I wrote “The resilience of the community members, their humor, their generosity, is one part heartbreaking, one part inspiring, And always humbling. It takes only a quick glance around to realize that I have no frame of reference for this. This is exactly what I need to be seeing and learning from…seeing and learning from the bottom up.”
And learn I did, about the 40% of the community dying of AIDs, and the ART they have no access to, about tuberculosis and substance abuse, domestic violence and teenage pregnancy, and a culture of fear that I have never known. At the same time, I learned about joy, faith, compassion neighborliness, duty and courage. Itipini has all of these ingredients, good and bad, in abundance and so on any given day, you might be struck with the hopefulness or the hopelessness of their of existence.
I spend most of my time working in the clinic, but increasingly, I have been working with the women of the community. And this is how I hope to move forward. Finally after about a year, I speak passable Xhosa. And so, I can listen to people’s stories. And the need I see is among the women. They are the backbone of the community, supporting everyone and being supported by no one. So, I decided to start some simple programs for the women, as a way to spend time with them and to strengthen the community. I wanted to offer them some time away from the pressures and expectations associated with being a Xhosa woman.
One of these programs is a bible study for pregnant teens and teenage mothers. The topic for our bible study last Thursday was suffering. If God is merciful, why do we suffer? We started the bible study by going around the circle saying how we experience suffering. When my turn finally came, I was speechless? What do I know of suffering in comparison to these young girls? I didn’t have a baby at 15, I haven’t lost my parents to AIDS, I haven’t been raped, or beaten or forced to drop out of school. It was such a painful illustration of how little I have to offer them. All I have is my presence and my intention to embody the love of Christ for them. So, I can sit with them each week, listen to them, encourage them, laugh with them, bring them snacks of oranges and cookies. It is nothing fancy and yet, that is how I have come to understand this kind of work.
I stood in front of you all over a year ago now and I was thinking about Big problems, using a big scale. It’s taken me a year to start looking at big problems using a smaller scale and to understand that that’s ok. That that is all I can do, and that is all that God is asking me to do: just what I can. So, if the big problem I am looking at is peace and reconciliation, and I am working in a shantytown where no one gives a hoot about peace and reconciliation, what do I do? Well, what has God given me to work with? God has given me the women. I love the women, their stories, their laughter, their songs and prayers each morning. Most importantly, I love the way they care for the community. So, I will work with them. That is my contribution. But, when I try to do it by myself, I am quickly defeated by the enormity of the task and the tiny steps forward. And so, I have never found the question and response from the baptismal covenant more relevant, “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being” to which the congregation responds, “We will with God’s help.” I can do it each day only with God’s help. You see, what I discovered this last year, is that when I stand in places of suffering the Gospel is my lifeline, and a lifeline for people everywhere struggling against huge and very tangible problems. In South Africa, no one is immune to the AIDS pandemic and its repercussions, the culture of violence, or the frustration of stagnancy where there should be change. So, in South Africa and elsewhere, the Gospel becomes a tool that God gives both to the missionary and the community to fight despair and disillusionment. The Gospel is a tool that we can all use to create hope, comfort and healing when it seems in short supply.
I was given a book about stories of contemporary Episcopal Missionaries. And a man serving in Jerusalem writes, “Missionaries here are powerless in any terms that most people would recognize. I cannot create peace here, and I am entirely too small to destroy the systems of oppression and evil that exist in this society…But in Christ I know that I am empowered to do the work of justice and peace. I know that my prayers are powerful that standing with fellow Christians is powerful. I know that my smile is powerful, that the love articulated through my eyes is strong. I know that God will have the final word of peace and reconciliation, and that in the end, bridges rather than walls will proclaim God’s dream for this land.” And this is just exactly it, I am small and powerless in the face of big problems. But I am powerful in Christ in each small way that I commit and re-commit to working with these problems.
So now, I’ve come to the part where I have to ask you for money because I simply cannot go back to Umtata without any. And since I am uncomfortable making this request of you, as you might also be, I won’t belabor it. Among my family and friends, my community of faith, and my Diocese, I have to raise $7,000. Within the context of our fractured Anglican Communion, I have to seek the support of my local community, not just for the sake of raising money, but also for the purpose of being sent as an authentic representative of a particular, invested locale. In this sense, regardless of how much fundraising I do outside of St. Margaret’s, I have also been asked to show parish support through fundraising within St. Margaret’s. I know that not everyone is in the position of making a financial contribution. I also know that St. Margaret’s parishioners have a wealth of experience, with peace and justice work. And I would deeply appreciate any thoughts, suggestions or insights that you all might have and want to share.
And that’s about it. It has been a distinct privilege to speak to you today. Thank you for so graciously listening and more importantly, Thank you for supporting me in the many ways that you already have.
“May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be always favorable in your sight O Lord our strength and our redeemer.”
I have not heard this prayer since I left St. Margaret’s last year. It sounds quite wonderful to my ear. And it feels quite wonderful to be back at St. Margaret’s. Good morning to you all. Thank you for having me. My name is Anne Figge, and I have spent the last year in Umtata, South Africa as a missionary of the Episcopal Church USA, and your official representative. I claim St. Margaret’s as my sending parish because of the formative time that I spent here and because of your support, through prayers, correspondence and financial donations. I am very grateful for all of these. I know that the ‘prayers of the people’ may be more or less meaningful on any given Sunday, but as someone who has been on the receiving end, please know that I feel those prayers keenly and am very grateful. So, I am here today to say thank you, and to ‘report back’ about my year as a missionary, and to share a little bit of my vision for the next ten months I will spend in Umtata.
When Susan asked me if I wanted to do this, she said for me just tell my story. And, I think it starts with the last time I stood up here a year ago. I spoke to the congregation about doing a year of missionary service in South Africa to learn about reconciliation. I was very unsure of how exactly I was going to do this. So in September of last year, to get my feet wet, I started by visiting a missionary couple in the Eastern Cape of South Africa. The McConnachies have been missionaries in this region of South Africa for over 20 years. Chris is an orthopedic surgeon and Jenny is a nurse. They seemed like the perfect people to talk to about how things have changed over the years. They have made their home in Umtata a smallish city in the Eastern Cape since the region was a Bantu homeland designated for the Xhosa people. The history of the area really seemed to fit with what I was looking for. If I wanted to learn about reconciliation, I needed to start at the beginning of the South African story. And yet the more I learned about the area, the more I realized that in this part of the country, more things have stayed the same in the “new South Africa” then have changed. The area is still 95% black, very rural and traditionally Xhosa as well as markedly underserved in comparison to other parts of the country.
I began working with Jenny McConnachie at the Itipini Shantytown, a temporary settlement on the outskirts of Umtata. It is your standard shantytown, albeit built upon the former municipal dump. The ‘homes’ are made of scraps of tin, bits of tarp, tires, newspapers, you name it. They sit upon layer and layers of trash, scattered broken glass, rusty cans old plastic bags. The settlement accommodates about 3,000 people and stretches down the banks of the Umtata river. At its center stands the Itipini Community Project, a cluster of buildings housing a primary health care clinic, a pre-school, a feeding program, a craft guild and a youth development program. Having now been there a year, I have difficulty recalling exactly how I felt when I first arrived, so I consulted my journal. I wrote “The resilience of the community members, their humor, their generosity, is one part heartbreaking, one part inspiring, And always humbling. It takes only a quick glance around to realize that I have no frame of reference for this. This is exactly what I need to be seeing and learning from…seeing and learning from the bottom up.”
And learn I did, about the 40% of the community dying of AIDs, and the ART they have no access to, about tuberculosis and substance abuse, domestic violence and teenage pregnancy, and a culture of fear that I have never known. At the same time, I learned about joy, faith, compassion neighborliness, duty and courage. Itipini has all of these ingredients, good and bad, in abundance and so on any given day, you might be struck with the hopefulness or the hopelessness of their of existence.
I spend most of my time working in the clinic, but increasingly, I have been working with the women of the community. And this is how I hope to move forward. Finally after about a year, I speak passable Xhosa. And so, I can listen to people’s stories. And the need I see is among the women. They are the backbone of the community, supporting everyone and being supported by no one. So, I decided to start some simple programs for the women, as a way to spend time with them and to strengthen the community. I wanted to offer them some time away from the pressures and expectations associated with being a Xhosa woman.
One of these programs is a bible study for pregnant teens and teenage mothers. The topic for our bible study last Thursday was suffering. If God is merciful, why do we suffer? We started the bible study by going around the circle saying how we experience suffering. When my turn finally came, I was speechless? What do I know of suffering in comparison to these young girls? I didn’t have a baby at 15, I haven’t lost my parents to AIDS, I haven’t been raped, or beaten or forced to drop out of school. It was such a painful illustration of how little I have to offer them. All I have is my presence and my intention to embody the love of Christ for them. So, I can sit with them each week, listen to them, encourage them, laugh with them, bring them snacks of oranges and cookies. It is nothing fancy and yet, that is how I have come to understand this kind of work.
I stood in front of you all over a year ago now and I was thinking about Big problems, using a big scale. It’s taken me a year to start looking at big problems using a smaller scale and to understand that that’s ok. That that is all I can do, and that is all that God is asking me to do: just what I can. So, if the big problem I am looking at is peace and reconciliation, and I am working in a shantytown where no one gives a hoot about peace and reconciliation, what do I do? Well, what has God given me to work with? God has given me the women. I love the women, their stories, their laughter, their songs and prayers each morning. Most importantly, I love the way they care for the community. So, I will work with them. That is my contribution. But, when I try to do it by myself, I am quickly defeated by the enormity of the task and the tiny steps forward. And so, I have never found the question and response from the baptismal covenant more relevant, “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being” to which the congregation responds, “We will with God’s help.” I can do it each day only with God’s help. You see, what I discovered this last year, is that when I stand in places of suffering the Gospel is my lifeline, and a lifeline for people everywhere struggling against huge and very tangible problems. In South Africa, no one is immune to the AIDS pandemic and its repercussions, the culture of violence, or the frustration of stagnancy where there should be change. So, in South Africa and elsewhere, the Gospel becomes a tool that God gives both to the missionary and the community to fight despair and disillusionment. The Gospel is a tool that we can all use to create hope, comfort and healing when it seems in short supply.
I was given a book about stories of contemporary Episcopal Missionaries. And a man serving in Jerusalem writes, “Missionaries here are powerless in any terms that most people would recognize. I cannot create peace here, and I am entirely too small to destroy the systems of oppression and evil that exist in this society…But in Christ I know that I am empowered to do the work of justice and peace. I know that my prayers are powerful that standing with fellow Christians is powerful. I know that my smile is powerful, that the love articulated through my eyes is strong. I know that God will have the final word of peace and reconciliation, and that in the end, bridges rather than walls will proclaim God’s dream for this land.” And this is just exactly it, I am small and powerless in the face of big problems. But I am powerful in Christ in each small way that I commit and re-commit to working with these problems.
So now, I’ve come to the part where I have to ask you for money because I simply cannot go back to Umtata without any. And since I am uncomfortable making this request of you, as you might also be, I won’t belabor it. Among my family and friends, my community of faith, and my Diocese, I have to raise $7,000. Within the context of our fractured Anglican Communion, I have to seek the support of my local community, not just for the sake of raising money, but also for the purpose of being sent as an authentic representative of a particular, invested locale. In this sense, regardless of how much fundraising I do outside of St. Margaret’s, I have also been asked to show parish support through fundraising within St. Margaret’s. I know that not everyone is in the position of making a financial contribution. I also know that St. Margaret’s parishioners have a wealth of experience, with peace and justice work. And I would deeply appreciate any thoughts, suggestions or insights that you all might have and want to share.
And that’s about it. It has been a distinct privilege to speak to you today. Thank you for so graciously listening and more importantly, Thank you for supporting me in the many ways that you already have.