In the Westminster Abbey gallery of 20th century Christian martyrs, Janani Luwum, Archbishop of Uganda, represents Africa. On the night of February 16-17, 1977, as the archbishop stood up to his government and spoke up on behalf of his suffering people, he received martyrdom at the hands of Idi Amin.
For a hundred years, Uganda had seen the passion of Christ through his people: sharing in his suffering and in the joy of the resurrection that transcends it.
As Jesus inaugurated his ministry in the synagogue at Nazareth, he declared that today these words of the prophet Isaiah have been fulfilled in your hearing:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.” (Luke 4:18-19)
If the church has anywhere been called to share in the ministry and mission of Christ, in his passion and in his joy, it is here and now – here and now for Janani Luwum was Uganda in the time of Obote and Amin; for us it is here and now where we are today. And as he was called, we are called, to embody Christ in our own time and place, knowing that God is with us, before us to lead us, beside us to guide us, within us to inspire us, as we seek to serve him in this world.
During the 1880s, four decades before Janani Luwum was born, Christianity came to Uganda through Anglican and Roman Catholic missionaries. Many of them and the people who responded to their message became martyrs straightaway, as the ruler of that time saw them as a threat.
In 1886 King Mwanga had 32 of his own followers, Christian converts, stacked like cordwood and burned. As they died, they sang praise to God and prayed for their persecutors. The killings did not have the intended effect: the Ugandan people, seeing the example of the martyrs, sought out the few remaining Christians to learn about the gospel - and the faith spread like wildfire.
We celebrate Uganda's 19th century martyrs beginning with James Hannington, and we celebrate its 20th century martyrs beginning with Janani Luwum.
Born in Acholiland in northern Uganda in 1922, Janani Luwum initially thought to become a schoolteacher. When, like his father before him, he converted to Christianity, he began immediately to share the word and speak out for God's justice for the people in the land. He became a figure of peace and reconciliation as he sought to give the gospel African expression. He encouraged his church to become economically independent and take its place among the churches of the globe as an equal partner in mission. He worked for the poor, for education and the alleviation of suffering. And he worked for justice.
Among his legacies are the leaders he helped to train, including the present archbishop of Uganda, Henry Luke Orombi, and the archbishop of York, John Sentamu. Thirty years after the death of Janani Luwum, Dr Sentamu, in his Martin Luther King memorial lecture on 20 January 2007, gave God's people a call to action that has implications beyond the walls of the lecture hall - or the church:
“We must do battle with the four modern demons of our time: Idolatry, materialism, militarism, and race-ism...
“We do not educate our opponents by refusing to sit down with them... The belief that we should not be in communion with those against whose views we are passionately opposed benefits neither side. The walls of ignorance and enmity are built higher still in the refusal to even attempt to win over our opponent but rather to prefer to walk our own way convinced of our own righteousness...
“The Christian response is grounded and formed in the words of Jesus: Love one another... This is the love that turns the other cheek, the love that stands in the face of suffering and refuses to be cowed, this is a love so strong that it bursts forth from the grave leaving behind it an empty tomb.”
As we move from Epiphany to Lent, from the season in which God illuminates us with the knowledge of his love embodied in his Son, to a season of preparation for welcoming and worshipping Christ in praise and practice, let us remember the Christian witness and example of Janani Luwum and the martyrs of Uganda, and make our own response to the gospel as bold as love.
JRL+
Showing posts with label John Sentamu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Sentamu. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
HOLY WEEK AND EASTER 2009
Christ has to be risen for each one of us. For the belief that Christ rose on the third day is based more on encountering Christ in experience than the discovery of the empty tomb. We have to be prepared for an encounter with the risen Lord. He will then lead us in the triumph of the resurrection wherever we are. And every day will become a celebration of his feat of victory. We are an Easter People and Alleluia is our song.—John Sentamu, Archbishop of York
It has been a long road from Ash Wednesday to Good Friday; the work is accomplished. Jesus from the Cross has himself said the words: “It is accomplished.” God’s gift of himself in the Person of His Son, the Beloved, his life and his death brought forth for our salvation, is completed in the one perfect offering of himself, in the integrity of his being, on the Cross.
But that is not the end of the story. It is only the beginning, of the one great story (as C. S. Lewis called it). That is the story of the glory of God and of God’s people becoming one in Christ.
And the new chapter of the story, the unexpected chapter, comes when the Sabbath is over, on the first day of the week.
It is just after sunrise. The streets are quiet. Nothing stirs. Then a knock on a door and a silent figure slips out to join another, and another joins them. They make their way out of town to the tombs, bringing with them the aromatic oils and spices for the anointing of the dead. They arrive at the tomb of the Beloved. One last duty.
“What are you doing here?” a strange question, from a strange figure, arrests them. “Why are you looking for the living among the dead? See! He is not here – he has risen! And he goes before you into Galilee. Go! And tell the others.”
It takes awhile for the news to gather them, but the disciples, the followers of Jesus, find their way again to an upper room, this time to await – what? The knock on the door? The soldiers come to take them away? But one appears among them, greeting them, “Shalom! Peace – the peace of God – be with you!”
And soon they were joined by a crowd, and spoke to them in the languages the people would understand, of the good news, the wonderful deeds, of the Messiah, the Anointed One, the Savior, come to bring the peace of God to the whole world. The song of praise began.
Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty thunder-peals, crying out,
‘Hallelujah!
For the Lord our God
the Almighty reigns.
‘The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord
and of his Messiah,
and he will reign for ever and ever.’
On his robe and on his thigh he has a name inscribed, ‘King of kings and Lord of lords’.
(Revelation 19:6, 11:15, 19:16)
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
* * * * *
Inspirations from Dr John Sentamu (Archbishop of York), C. S. Lewis ("The Last Battle"), Rev Paul Pfotenhauer, Dr Hugh Stevenson, and G. W. F. Handel.
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It has been a long road from Ash Wednesday to Good Friday; the work is accomplished. Jesus from the Cross has himself said the words: “It is accomplished.” God’s gift of himself in the Person of His Son, the Beloved, his life and his death brought forth for our salvation, is completed in the one perfect offering of himself, in the integrity of his being, on the Cross.
But that is not the end of the story. It is only the beginning, of the one great story (as C. S. Lewis called it). That is the story of the glory of God and of God’s people becoming one in Christ.
And the new chapter of the story, the unexpected chapter, comes when the Sabbath is over, on the first day of the week.
It is just after sunrise. The streets are quiet. Nothing stirs. Then a knock on a door and a silent figure slips out to join another, and another joins them. They make their way out of town to the tombs, bringing with them the aromatic oils and spices for the anointing of the dead. They arrive at the tomb of the Beloved. One last duty.
“What are you doing here?” a strange question, from a strange figure, arrests them. “Why are you looking for the living among the dead? See! He is not here – he has risen! And he goes before you into Galilee. Go! And tell the others.”
It takes awhile for the news to gather them, but the disciples, the followers of Jesus, find their way again to an upper room, this time to await – what? The knock on the door? The soldiers come to take them away? But one appears among them, greeting them, “Shalom! Peace – the peace of God – be with you!”
And soon they were joined by a crowd, and spoke to them in the languages the people would understand, of the good news, the wonderful deeds, of the Messiah, the Anointed One, the Savior, come to bring the peace of God to the whole world. The song of praise began.
Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty thunder-peals, crying out,
‘Hallelujah!
For the Lord our God
the Almighty reigns.
‘The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord
and of his Messiah,
and he will reign for ever and ever.’
On his robe and on his thigh he has a name inscribed, ‘King of kings and Lord of lords’.
(Revelation 19:6, 11:15, 19:16)
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
* * * * *
Inspirations from Dr John Sentamu (Archbishop of York), C. S. Lewis ("The Last Battle"), Rev Paul Pfotenhauer, Dr Hugh Stevenson, and G. W. F. Handel.
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Saturday, March 15, 2008
the dream is ended
May I speak in the Name of the Son, in the Power of the Holy Spirit, to the Glory of God the Father. AMEN.
On the last page of the last chapter of his last book for children, C. S. Lewis wrote:
“The dream is ended: this is the morning…” the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures…had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
***
This is not the end of the story. It is only the end of the beginning.
The story began, in this earthly realm, 93 years ago. Allison Morrison lived a long and full life, a memorable one, with memories left behind that we can begin to share today, as you meet each other and hear each other’s stories – of Allison getting together with folks on Friday mornings at Pancake Haus, of Rob and Allison anchoring their pew at the 8 o’clock services, of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This is the part of the story that we know: but the story continues beyond our knowing, as Allison is received where she is known best of all, in the presence of God.
For each of us this life is only the beginning: death is not the end: life, in Christ, goes on into eternity.
We can share in the presence of Christ in this community together, in Eucharist: Allison and all those who have gone before us, share in that communion, too: in the presence of the Lord.
“Our journey,” Archbishop Sentamu has preached, “is towards oneness with God. As we journey, our calling is to make manifest to everyone the compassionate face of God made visible in Jesus Christ.”
We follow Jesus. We follow him to life in the presence of God. Someday like Allison each one of us will see him face to face. When that day comes, may we be like Peter, who, hearing on Easter morning that Jesus was alive, ran to the tomb to greet his risen Lord. In the meantime, may we run or walk, may we journey, as if Jesus were walking beside us – his presence a forgone conclusion.
“Jesus is in fact the presence of God’s truth and God’s life in the world,” Lesslie Newbigin writes, “and to know the Father means to follow the way which Jesus is, and which he has opened” for us, through the veil between this life and the next, “by his living, his dying, and his rising from the dead.”
The presence of God, the forgiveness of God, the grace of God, are all around us and present to us. It is a matter of us becoming present to Him.
Quite often we may feel his absence, as if he were gone. But even at those times he is right beside us, grieving with us in our sorrow and despair.
Sometimes we may forget how he sees us: the Lord sees the person he made and that he loves. He sees each of us in aspiration – in the Spirit – and sees the child of God within us. However distorted that image may seem to be, from time to time, it is there, shining behind the clouds of sin and desire, of folly and disease, and on the day that the Lord greets us, as he now greets Allison, we will shine with the reflected light of God’s glory and his loving greeting to us.
“Come my child, my beloved. Come home to the place I have made for you. Come to the table – and sit at the banquet – and rejoice in the presence and the plenty of God.”
May God in his grace abundantly enfold you, bringing you into his peace. Amen.
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Edmonds, WA
March 15, 2008
Memorial Service for
Allison Morrison (October 11, 1915 – February 15, 2008)
Lamentations 3:22-26, 31-33
Psalm 121
Revelation 21:2-7
Psalm 106:1-5
John 14:1-6
(C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle, the last chapter, the last page.)
Archbishop of York, “We journey towards oneness with God“, Monday 12 February 2007
Service of commemoration of the 30th anniversary of the martyrdom of Janani Luwum at Westminster Abbey, London
(http://www.archbishopofyork.org/261)
(Lesslie Newbigin, The Light Has Come, Eerdmans, 1982, p. 182)
On the last page of the last chapter of his last book for children, C. S. Lewis wrote:
“The dream is ended: this is the morning…” the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures…had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
***
This is not the end of the story. It is only the end of the beginning.
The story began, in this earthly realm, 93 years ago. Allison Morrison lived a long and full life, a memorable one, with memories left behind that we can begin to share today, as you meet each other and hear each other’s stories – of Allison getting together with folks on Friday mornings at Pancake Haus, of Rob and Allison anchoring their pew at the 8 o’clock services, of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This is the part of the story that we know: but the story continues beyond our knowing, as Allison is received where she is known best of all, in the presence of God.
For each of us this life is only the beginning: death is not the end: life, in Christ, goes on into eternity.
We can share in the presence of Christ in this community together, in Eucharist: Allison and all those who have gone before us, share in that communion, too: in the presence of the Lord.
“Our journey,” Archbishop Sentamu has preached, “is towards oneness with God. As we journey, our calling is to make manifest to everyone the compassionate face of God made visible in Jesus Christ.”
We follow Jesus. We follow him to life in the presence of God. Someday like Allison each one of us will see him face to face. When that day comes, may we be like Peter, who, hearing on Easter morning that Jesus was alive, ran to the tomb to greet his risen Lord. In the meantime, may we run or walk, may we journey, as if Jesus were walking beside us – his presence a forgone conclusion.
“Jesus is in fact the presence of God’s truth and God’s life in the world,” Lesslie Newbigin writes, “and to know the Father means to follow the way which Jesus is, and which he has opened” for us, through the veil between this life and the next, “by his living, his dying, and his rising from the dead.”
The presence of God, the forgiveness of God, the grace of God, are all around us and present to us. It is a matter of us becoming present to Him.
Quite often we may feel his absence, as if he were gone. But even at those times he is right beside us, grieving with us in our sorrow and despair.
Sometimes we may forget how he sees us: the Lord sees the person he made and that he loves. He sees each of us in aspiration – in the Spirit – and sees the child of God within us. However distorted that image may seem to be, from time to time, it is there, shining behind the clouds of sin and desire, of folly and disease, and on the day that the Lord greets us, as he now greets Allison, we will shine with the reflected light of God’s glory and his loving greeting to us.
“Come my child, my beloved. Come home to the place I have made for you. Come to the table – and sit at the banquet – and rejoice in the presence and the plenty of God.”
May God in his grace abundantly enfold you, bringing you into his peace. Amen.
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Edmonds, WA
March 15, 2008
Memorial Service for
Allison Morrison (October 11, 1915 – February 15, 2008)
Lamentations 3:22-26, 31-33
Psalm 121
Revelation 21:2-7
Psalm 106:1-5
John 14:1-6
(C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle, the last chapter, the last page.)
Archbishop of York, “We journey towards oneness with God“, Monday 12 February 2007
Service of commemoration of the 30th anniversary of the martyrdom of Janani Luwum at Westminster Abbey, London
(http://www.archbishopofyork.org/261)
(Lesslie Newbigin, The Light Has Come, Eerdmans, 1982, p. 182)
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