"He said to them, ‘Come and see’" (Jn.1.39).

I. What a wonderful invitation – "come and see." Come and see where the Messiah is among us. Come and see where the Christ is operating today. Come and see where we might find signs of the inbreaking of God’s kingdom. Come and see the abundant life, promised of old.

If we but stand and look around, sometimes the world seems so full of wonders, so full of miracles! The collapse of communism and the end of the Cold War in our time: some of us can remember the drills in school planning to hide under our desks in the event of a nuclear attack, the basement fallout shelters, and so on. Now that threat of a lifetime is gone.

The world is not perfect, of course. On this Martin Luther King Jr weekend, I am moved by Dr. King’s words in a sermon many years ago: "There is so much frustration in the world," he wrote, "because we have relied on gods rather than God. We have genuflected before the god of science only to find that it has given us the atomic bomb, producing fears and anxieties that science can never mitigate. We have worshiped the god of pleasure only to discover that thrills play out and sensations are short-lived. We have bowed before the god of money only to learn that there are such things as love and friendship that money cannot buy…money is a rather uncertain deity. These transitory gods are not able to save or bring happiness to the human heart. Only God is able. It is faith in Him that we must rediscover."

I’ve been reading a collection of sermons and speeches by Desmond Tutu recently. Tutu is the short, round, black clergyman who, while serving as Archbishop of Capetown, received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984 for his work against apartheid, the system of racial separation, in South Africa. It is a most extraordinary story about struggle against oppression, and about power changing hands, even about the nature of real power. It is a story, I think, about finding the power of God at work, creating miracles.

II. Tutu visited my seminary once. In reviewing the history of black and white relations in South Africa, he said: when the white man came, we had the land and they had the Bible; they said "let us pray" and we bowed our heads; when we looked up, WE had the Bible and THEY had the land. That, of course, was the base of white power in South Africa: the 20% of the population that was white controlled 87% of the land. But the heart and soul of white power was racism – the assumption that white people were better, and more deserving of power, than the native blacks.

"Now just tell me," Tutu once said, "what does the color of a person’s skin tell you about that person?" He went on: "Does the color of a person’s skin tell you whether that person is intelligent? Does it tell you that that person is loving? Supposing we said that the thing that determines privilege is the size of your nose? Now, I have a large nose—supposing we said people with large noses are the privileged people? And they say now, ‘Ah, you want to go to a toilet; that toilet is reserved only for large noses.’ If you have a small nose you are going to be in trouble. That university, you enter only if you have a large nose like mine. If you have a small nose then you must apply to the Minister of Small Nose Affairs for permission to attend the university for large noses." (Rainbow People, p.163).

There are two miracles I find in Tutu’s life that are part and parcel of the struggle against apartheid. The first miracle is that Tutu, and others, did not give in to despair. They maintained their sense of humor—he could joke about his nose to make his serious point—and they maintained their hope. It would have been so easy to despair: in 1960, the year when Tutu was ordained, the white government attacked a group of protesters against apartheid in what became known as the Sharpeville massacre: 69 people were killed, many shot in the back while running away. In total, 500 people died that year. Increasingly the government turned to violence and draconian laws to stay in power. In 1984, in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Tutu told of having just visited the home of an old lady who looked after her grandson while his parents were at work: one day the police came down her street looking for children boycotting classes – she heard a commotion – ran into the living room – her grandson fell inside the front door, dead, shot in the back by the police. He was six years old. And, Tutu added, a few weeks later black rioters stoned the car of a white mother and killed her baby of a few months old. "These," Tutu said, "are part of the high cost of apartheid."

Why not give in to despair? Many did. But Tutu believed that they were not in this alone, not fighting single-handedly, but that this was GOD’S STRUGGLE. The biblical witness of a God who acts in the world is so alive in his writings. "Often our people wonder what have we done to deserve all this suffering? It is important for the Church of God to tell the people of God, ‘Hey, hey, hey! Our God sees. Our God hears. Our God knows and our God will come down and deliver us.’ And we say. We say—in South Africa—we say to them, ‘Hey, hey, hey, We are going to be free. We are not asking for permission from the rulers of our land. We know we are going to be free.’ And we say to our oppressors, ‘Do you know what? We are being nice to you. We are inviting you to join the winning side. Come and join the winning side, because you have already lost.’"

Come and see, come and see! Tutu was right, of course. Five years after that sermon, all-race elections were held in 1994 and Nelson Mandela was elected president. Amazingly, against all the odds, the violence, he never lost hope, never despaired. And the reason was because he was not counting on himself – fallible, weak, large nose and all – but on a God who desires justice and righteousness.

The second miracle I find in Tutu’s life comes AFTER the end of apartheid. He was appointed to chair the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Do you remember that? – they just made their final report this fall. Now, what would you expect from a "Truth and Reconciliation Commission" appointed by a government that had just come to power after a century of oppression, appointed by a black president who had been long-imprisoned himself, and charged with investigating crimes committed during the apartheid era? In other places such changes of power have been followed by "cleansing" of the opposition, "re-education" programs, and the like. One would expect at least a certain "political correctness."

But what came out in Tutu’s report was a 3500-page, five-volume, recognition of the brutal reality of apartheid-era South Africa, a report which criticized not only the white government, but also the black African National Congress party, the party of Nelson Mandela, for gross violations of human right. In fact, what got the report in the New York Times was the last-minute attempt by Mandela’s party to block release of the report because they didn’t like what was said about them. To be criticized by BOTH is probably pretty good testimony that the Truth and Reconciliation Commission told the truth. The miracle is that, Tutu did not become vindictive in the moment of triumph, instead of bitterness and partisanship, here was one who was a man of principle!

Tutu told about the white government’s institutionalization of violence "in its fight against racial equality, using security forces to carry out abductions and killings" . . . including evidence that former president Botha ordered the bombings of a church headquarters and a union building in the 1980s.

The report also spoke of the black ANC being accountable for the killing of 76 members of another, competing, black political party. It was especially critical of Nelson Mandela’s ex-wife, Winnie Mandela, finding that she and her bodyguards were responsible for numerous assaults and murders.

If the report tells us anything, I suppose it is that war is hell, and that hate begets hate. It was our own Edmund Hamilton Sears who said about slavery in THIS country that it not only harms the slaves but it disfigures the souls of the masters.

III. And yet, come and see! Come and see Desmond Tutu, short, round, black clergyman. He did not despair. He did not become vindictive. Hate did NOT beget hate in him. In that wondrous working of God’s love in human hearts, the experience of hate led him to compassion, the experience of oppression led him to believe in God, the experience of deceit and cover-up and years of secrecy led him to value the search for truth wherever it leads.

I suppose the real miracle is the one Paul talks about in his letter to the Corinthians: the miracle is newness, "if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation." God is always creating new opportunities, new hearts, new souls, transforming and reconciling. Reconciling does not always mean bringing things back the way they used to be – in South Africa that would have been disastrous – but finding new ways to be together on this planet.

I close with these words of Desmond Tutu: "At home in South Africa I have sometimes said in big meetings where you have black and white together: ‘Raise your hands!’ Then I’ve said, ‘Move your hands,’ and I’ve said, ‘Look at your hands – different colors representing different people. You are the rainbow people of God.’ And you remember the rainbow in the Bible is the sign of peace. The rainbow is the sign of prosperity. We want peace, prosperity, and justice and we can have it when all the people of God, the rainbow people of God, work together."

And that, my friends, is what the Communion Service celebrates.