This article is comprised of excerpts from a sermon Desmond Tutu, Nobel peace laureate and archbishop of the Anglican Church in Johannesburg, South Africa, preached at the Washington Cathedral on December 2, 1984.
This service is in thanksgiving to God. I want to add my own thanks to you. We Christians believe that in becoming a Christian you become a member of the body of Christ and part of a worldwide fellowship. You have brothers and sisters scattered over the face of the earth.
We know, too, that we are by our humanity members of the human family and thereby have sisters and brothers in many lands. And we know in our experience what it has meant to be upheld by the love and prayers and the concern of so many around the world. It has been almost a physical sensation, this being borne up by those servant prayers.
Sometimes you may feel sorry for us being in the kind of situation in which we are. Yet I think perhaps the proper attitude ought to be one of envy, for I think it is far easier to be a Christian, a person of belief and faith, in South Africa than it is here. For the issues in South Africa are so obviously clear; you are either for apartheid or against it.
In many respects it has very little to do with personal courage. People say, "Hah! Did you hear what Desmond Tutu said to the government of South Africa? He said to them, 'Hey, when you take on the South African churches, know that you are taking on the church of God. And do you know what has happened to those who have done so in the past? They have bitten the dust, and bitten it ignominiously!'"
No, friend, it has very little to do with personal freedom, personal courage. We are able to witness in South Africa as we do because you are faithful in your witness where you are.
Sometimes you may not feel like praying because your prayers are insipid. There is a dryness, and God seems miles and miles away. But because you are faithful, you say to God, "I want to pray, and I will offer you these 30 minutes, God, even if it means fighting these awkward distractions for a few minutes."
And because you are faithful, someone in South Africa suddenly receives an excess of grace; inexplicably it appears. Perhaps he is in a solitary confinement cell; perhaps he is being tortured. And instead of being hate-filled and embittered, he is able to say, "You know, father, when these men are applying their third-degree methods on you, you look on them and say, 'These are God's children and they are behaving like animals. They need us to help them recover the humanity they have lost.'" How is that possible except that you here have prayed him into that state of grace?
Another man's home is going to be demolished tomorrow. He's part of a community that is going to be uprooted because it does not fit into the ideological map of apartheid. The churches and the clinics and the schools in the community have already been demolished. The water supply has been stopped. The bus service to the nearest town is interrupted so that, as the government puts it, "The people will move voluntarily."
And this man, whose home is going to be demolished tomorrow, sets out to pray incredibly. He says, "God, thank you for loving us." How can that be except that you here have prayed him into that state of grace?
WE KNOW, TOO, that the highest levels of prayer are reached when we no longer have to use so many words. And so the words that I bring, "thank you," are shot through and through with ineffable emotion. And know that I speak on behalf of millions.
I know that I speak on behalf of a man who was sentenced to 12 years in prison for a political offense. He appealed his conviction and sentence, and the South African Council of Churches, through your prayers and financial support, was able to fund his appeal. And he won. The sentence and the conviction were crushed.
He would like to be here to thank you on his own behalf that he is not languishing in some maximum-security prison in South Africa for 12 years. His wife would like to be here to thank you that she is not alone for 12 years. His children would like to come and say, "Thank you, for our daddy is with us."
We thank you for caring and for incarnating that caring in such a costly way. Many of those for whom such actions have a greater significance are voiceless. You may not hear how they feel, but I was sent here to tell you that whatever you do to protest this evil system does not go without notice amongst those for whom it is being done. So, thank you.
God is good. God gave us the Nobel Peace Prize, and let us say firmly that it is not given as a personal distinction to Desmond Tutu. This award is for all of us, all of us committed to the struggle for justice and peace and reconciliation.
We thank God who says, "This is my world and I'm in charge." Just when the powers of evil seem to be on the rampage, God says, "I just want to show you who is boss around here." And here is the prize, a vindication for the work of the South African Council of Churches and those associated with it, a vindication for all who are committed to work for justice and peace.
Your cause will prevail. Your cause is just, your cause is right, and God enlists you and me and all of us to work together with him to change the evil of this world, to change its hurt, its antagonism, its anxieties, its poverty, its disease, its famines—to change all of this into the kingdom of shalom, of justice, and goodness and joy and laughter and compassion and caring and sharing.
And then we will see the kingdoms of this world transformed into the kingdom of our God, and he will reign forever and ever.
Amen.

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