At that very hour some Pharisees came, and said to him, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." And he said to them, "Go and tell that fox ..."
-- Luke 13:31-32
The white government of South Africa had just outlawed the activities of 17 organizations, including the two-million-member United Democratic Front, which have been leading the struggle against apartheid. At the same time, the nation's largest labor federation, the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU), was prohibited from all political activity. The meaning of the actions was clear: Any opposition to the white regime would no longer be tolerated; peaceful protest against apartheid was ordered to stop.
Twenty months of the government-imposed state of emergency had seriously crippled anti-apartheid groups, with many members suffering detention, police violence, and death. The government's forced exile of the media from the black townships and other conflict areas had effectively turned out the lights to keep the rest of the world from seeing what was happening in South Africa.
With the events of the last week in February, the consolidation of totalitarian rule and a virtual police state was complete. Such effective government repression created a state in which there would be no one left to protest.
ON SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 28, Reformed Church minister Allan Boesak preached in his home church in Capetown, South Africa, on Jesus' response to the threats and intimidations of state power, choosing Luke 13:31-35 as his text. The religious leaders of Jesus' day counseled caution and retreat, but Jesus chose confrontation, saying, "Go and tell that fox ..."
The term "fox" was one of special derision in his culture, and Jesus' meaning was unmistakably clear. Also clear was the reason for the use of Jesus' words now by a black South African minister.
On Monday, February 29, Allan Boesak, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and scores of other church leaders led hundreds in a prayer service and a march on the South African Parliament to demand the restoration of the right of peaceful protest. In the tradition of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., they refused to retreat and disperse when confronted by a menacing line of riot police.
They sat and prayed in the characteristic spirit of nonviolent civil disobedience. The clergy were briefly detained, sternly warned, and finally released while hundreds of other marchers were hosed down with police water cannons.
After their release, the church leaders vowed to disobey the South African authorities and promised that this was only the beginning. "We are not defying, we are obeying, and we are going to obey God every day," said Tutu. That evening ABC news anchor Peter Jennings announced, "In South Africa, the church has taken up the burden of the people."
Of course, Tutu, Boesak, Beyers Naude, and countless others from the churches have played key leadership roles in the anti-apartheid struggle for many years. But now, after repeated government crackdowns, the church is one of the few remaining institutions with any means of working for peaceful change. It may be that we are entering a new era in which the churches in South Africa, at least many of them, will step to the forefront of the struggle for freedom and justice and, inevitably, suffer the consequences of such a leadership role.
Frank Chikane, general secretary of the South African Council of Churches, said that the government action, which effectively banned the 17 anti-apartheid organizations, and the severe restrictions placed on the trade union movement will simply accelerate the churches' long-term commitment to a more active role. "You will see a lot more of the nonviolent demonstrations you saw this week ... It is obvious that the church will be the last target to be hit, which means we still have a lot of space. And we will not adhere to government restrictions," Chikane vowed.
Even the white Dutch Reformed Church, the bastion of Afrikaner faith and power, has experienced some cracks in its once impenetrable wall of defense of apartheid. As most other South African churches, both black and white, take a stronger and more courageous role, it will be very important to watch for signs of discomfort, dissent, and even change in the Dutch Reformed Church.
IF THE SOUTH AFRICAN church can indeed rise to the moment, its importance will be not just political, but spiritual and moral as well. As government repression of other organizations causes despair and resignation in many quarters, the churches could offer new symbols and demonstrations of hope.
When the possibilities of peaceful protest are crushed, a shift to violent strategies is the inevitable result. That has occurred historically in South Africa and will gain momentum now with the recent crackdowns.
But peaceful protest is the natural form of the churches' response, and the brutal repression of the white South African regime could open up new possibilities for creative and courageous nonviolent action. To rescue even the word nonviolence from its connotation of passivity, there will have to be a clear movement from denunciations of apartheid to active, nonviolent resistance.
Nonviolent resistance has historically proven that it can be a revolutionary strategy for social change. To seek to demonstrate that now in South Africa is an enormous undertaking and, yet, perhaps a calling for the church at this moment. That kind of active resistance has the capacity to save many lives that might ultimately be lost in massive, and probably futile, violence.
But it must also be said that a serious strategy of non-cooperation, resistance, and nonviolent civil disobedience will also cost the lives of some who choose that path. To speak of nonviolence without sacrifice and suffering is neither realistic nor responsible.
No one can make the choice of costly resistance for the South African churches; they must accept that calling for themselves. But if the South African churches more fully embrace the path of suffering and become the focal point of resistance to apartheid, a great responsibility will fall upon the rest of the church worldwide. A suffering church has a moral claim on the rest of the body of Christ. We will need to stand alongside, raise our voices, offer our bodies, and commit our resources as never before.
It remains true that the United States, Britain, and West Germany play a crucial role in South Africa. Comprehensive political and economic sanctions against the white regime in Pretoria would still make a critical difference. At present, none of these governments has the will to make a decisive commitment. The most vicious racism in the world enforced by increasing totalitarianism doesn't stir Ronald Reagan's heart like his own ideological obsessions with Central America.
While hypocrisy and injustice of that magnitude would call forth the Old Testament prophets, it has yet to fire the faith of the American churches. The more we see our brothers and sisters suffer in South Africa, the more we will have to look at ourselves.
These next few months will be very important. Who will stand up in the South African churches? And who around the world will stand up with them? And what will be the response of white South Africa and its powerful yet fearful government? The Luke text preached by Allan Boesak in Capetown delivered a clear message:
O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not! Behold, your house is forsaken. And I tell you, you will not see me until you say, "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord."
Jim Wallis is editor-in-chief of Sojourners.
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