Devil’s Peak and Clifton’s Shores

“It is a truism that society crucifies not only those who fall blow its standards but those who rise above them” (Peter Storey, an influential South African preacher and my teacher!).

We live in a highly stratified world. Everything is about levels. Levels of income, levels of education, levels of healthcare, levels upon levels. Today, these levels were accentuated as we ran, hiked, and climbed for over three hours to reach the peak of Devil’s Peak (a 1300 meter ascent) and on a walk from Sea Point to the shores of Clifton, South Africa’s most exclusive and expensive housing.

I saw and experienced the extremes of society today – that is the rarely seen or experienced extremes. Devil’s peak is rarely experienced because it takes a ridiculous fitness level to even think about trying to get up there; Clifton is even rarer. No taxis or buses even go to these 4 fashionable beaches. There is virtually no crime, no litter, no graffiti, no conspicuous problems…and very little life. The houses are almost indescribable – they look like a photo of Malibu beach or the homes near the University of St. Andrews. The only way Olga and I could access the beach was to walk from the last taxi drop off to Clifton (taxis here are not like America – they cost about 50 cents and you cram about 16 people into a normal sized van and pray!)…which was about 10-12 kilometers round trip. As we walked down the road of impeccably manacured lawns and exquisitely-build castles we noticed a complete silence…it was peaceful…but it was strange. I was quite uncomfortable knowing that the other 6 people on the beach with us could probably small Caribbean nations.

This experience reminded me of another extreme in South Africa – noise. White people are quite. Black and colored people are LOUD. And as white and blacks are beginning to live together and even worship together this is a serious issue. For Black people, noise is Life. Announcing ones presence, playing loud music, shouting at one’s neighbor are all considered forms of community. If one is quiet in a black community (called a township), there tends to be great suspicion. For white people, I will simply quote a parishioner who was talking to Branca about the percussious worship at Woodstock (a black Congolese girl) and I. He said with a big smile, “White people know God isn’t deaf.” We all laughed, but the truths were inherent in the comment.

I’m not quite sure how all this ties together. What struck me today was the tragedy that occurs when people choose to cut themselves off from anyone who is different than themselves or that might challenge them or make them uncomfortable – it is difficult, if not impossible, for the rich and poor, black and white, educated and uneducated to learn from people they never encounter – or to enjoy those with whom they never share a meal or conversation.

Desmund Tutu has thought more carefully than myself about this – I’ll let him speak my heart for me: “There is a movement, not easily discernible, at the heart of things to reverse the awful centrifugal force of alienation, brokenness, division, hostility and disharmony. God has set in motion a centripetal process, a moving towards the Centre, towards unity, harmony, goodness, peace and justice; one that removes barriers. Jesus said, “And when I am lifted up from the earth I shall draw everyone to myself,” as he hangs on His cross with out-flung arms, thrown out to clasp all, everyone, belongs. None is an outsider, all are insiders, all belong. There are no aliens, all belong in the one family, God’s family, the human family. We are different so that we can know our need of one another, for no one is ultimately self-sufficient.”