Lutherans and Anglicans
both have histories of some 150 years in East Africa. Both began
without much real success. The first efforts of the Lutheran
missionaries of the Hermansburg Society in the 1850s produced
little result, and the first Anglican attempt, under the auspices
of the Universities Mission to Central Africa and led by Bishop
Mackenzie ended in tragedy. The Anglicans thereafter withdrew
from the interior and made Zanzibar their headquarters. The
island, which is overwhelmingly Muslim, still has the oldest
Anglican Cathedral in East Africa on it, built on the site of
the old slave market.
Since then both churches
have spread under the leadership of a variety of mission boards
and societies. In the case of the Lutherans the Berlin Missionary
Society began work in Tanzania in 1891, the US Board of World
Missions in 1922. The Danish Lutherans and others have begun
work more recently. On the Anglican side, the Universities Mission,
having withdrawn to Zanzibar, began work on the mainland opposite,
later in Masasi in the south and later returned to Lake Nyasa
(Lake Malawi), while the Church Missionary Society opened up
work in Morogoro and especially the Dodoma area (with early
mission stations at Mpwapwa and Kongwa) and from there spread
especially to the Lake Tanganyika and Lake Victoria areas.
The result is that,
apart from the Roman Catholics, the Lutherans and Anglicans
are the only two churches with a presence in all parts of the
country. Other churches, even the strongest such as the Moravians
and Mennonites, are essentially regional, the Moravians especially
in Tukuyu, Mbeya, Sumbawanga and Tabora, the Mennonites on the
east side of Lake Victoria. Other western Protestant denominations,
such as the Methodists, Baptists and Presbyterians are not strong
in Tanzania, though they are in other parts of Africa. More
recently Pentecostal churches have arrived, but these have tended
to poach the disaffected in the mainline churches rather than
to evangelise new Christians.
Anglicans and Lutherans
are present in most parts of the country, but they are unevenly
spread; and because of the areas in which in the earliest missionaries
began their work, they were for many years in a considerable
degree isolated from each other. So, for example, the Lutherans
were and are very strong in the north around Moshi and Arusha,
which was not an early area of Anglican work. In the northern
coastal area there was some overlap, but the Lutherans were
generally more concentrated in the Usambara Mountains around
Lushoto, the Anglicans in the plains near the coast, with Magila
as an early headquarters. In the southwest Lutheran work spread
from Bulongwa which was totally untouched by Anglicans. This
led eventually to the Lutheran Diocese of South Central with
its headquarters at Makete. On the other hand, Lutherans were
totally absent from such Anglican strongholds as Masasi and
the eastern shore of Lake Nyasa.
This meant that,
to a large extent, the two churches lived side by side in peace,
but it was the peace of having very little to do with each other.
And sometimes when their work began to overlap there was conflict.
This can be illustrated by the village of Yakobi, a few miles
south of Njombe. From Bulongwa Lutheran work spread to the area
where the Wabena lived, largely in the plateau behind the Livingstone
Mountains. From the shores of Lake Nyasa, Anglican work spread
into the hills and valleys behind the Lake, an area occupied
by the neighbours of the Wabena, the Wapangwa. To this day,
although the area covered by the Anglican Diocese of South West
Tanganyika encompasses some six tribes, at least seventy per
cent of the membership comes from two tribes, the Wamanda on
the lakeside and the Wapangwa. But Anglican work did move a
little beyond the Wapangwa area among the Wabena, and the two
churches met in the village of Yakobi, and in Yakobi there was
considerable ill feeling, even struggle between the two churches.
One of our key families in the area, the Mung'ong'o family,
are natives of Yakobi, and the grandfather of the present senior
members of the family wrote a little history of the conflict
(in Kiswahili), told, it must be said, from a rather partisan
Anglican point of view. Today there are both Anglican and Lutheran
churches in the village.
There was one other
place in that area where Anglicans and Lutherans came into contact,
but this was a case of one succeeding the other. The Lutherans
had built an important mission station at Milo in the hills
(even giving it its name from a town in Germany). In World War
One they were forced to leave this and the centre with its excellent
buildings was handed to the Anglicans. To this day there is
a hospital and a Christian training centre there. The hospital
was rebuilt with help from Christian Aid some twenty years ago.
The training centre still uses the original buildings inherited
from the Lutherans and dating from the beginning of the twentieth
century. When I arrived in the diocese, these buildings were
falling into disrepair. (Guy Smith [ALS treasurer – ed]will
remember a decidedly damp evening in the mission house under
a leaky roof.) The present pastor of Milo in Germany gave us
some assistance in the major task of restoring the old dormitory
building which had become unsafe to use. Since Guy's damp evening
we have been able to put a new roof on the old mission house.
So we have a picture
of the two churches living a largely separate existence and
coming into occasional conflict in areas where their work overlapped.
The big change in the last 40 or 50 years is that the areas
of overlap between the two churches have increased considerably.
The main reason for this has been the growth of towns in which
there are workers from other areas who retain their denominational
loyalty in their new place of work. So, for example, an Anglican
Diocese of Mount Kilimanjaro was formed in the early 1980s with
its headquarters in Arusha. Arusha grew rapidly after independence,
becoming an important regional centre with a considerable number
of people from other parts of the country and indeed from other
countries. From Arusha work has spread to other local towns
and into the surrounding villages. The second less significant
reason for the two churches spreading into areas where they
had previously lacked a presence has been people in rural communities
who have sought land to cultivate in new areas.
I can again illustrate
this kind of increased overlap in more detail from the area
covered by the Diocese of South West Tanganyika. From Bulongwa
and Makete, the present headquarters of the Lutheran Diocese
of South-Central, and an area inhabited by the Wakinga, Lutheran
work spread to the Wabena in Njombe and Makambako, to the Wahehe
around Mafinga and Mgololo and to a mixture of peoples around
Mlimba. Anglicans had no work in Bulongwa or in any of these
other places. The only exception was at Mufindi, a tea growing
area not far from Mafinga. Here a church was built for expatriates
working on the tea gardens. In fact, it is a very different
church from others in the area and more closely resembles a
peaceful English village church.
But over the last
forty years small Anglican communities have grown up in these
areas. Near Bulongwa, Makete became a district capital. Makambako
became a major station on the Tazara Railway, the railway built
by the Chinese after Rhodesian DDI, which runs from Dar es Salaam
to Kapiri Mposhi in Zambia. It is also a common overnight stop
for lorries on the main road from Dar es Salaam to Zambia and
Malawi, so that many small hotels have grown up. Mafinga became
the district capital of Mufindi district and Mgololo became
the site for an enormous paper factory. (It made disastrous
losses and the government finally managed to sell it in 2006.)
There is also a Tazara railway station at Mlimba and a few miles
away there is an enormous hydroelectric plant.
In each case workers
arrived from outside, some of whom were Anglicans. Of the five
towns all except Makambako and Mgololo have had a resident Anglican
priest for less than five years. And work has spread from the
towns into the villages. At Makambako and Makete there were
considerable numbers not yet evangelised. Outside Mafinga and
Mlimba there are people who have moved in search of land, who
were originally Anglican and, although for years they lacked
any ministry provided by the Anglicans, they have remained strongly
attached to their identity.
Similarly, the Lutherans
had no work among the Wamanda and Wapangwa or (outside the area
covered by the Diocese of South West Tanganyika) in Masasi.1n
all these areas with the growth of towns and workers arriving
from outside Lutheran communities have sprung up. In the case
of Ludewa which became a district capital some twenty years
ago for the Wapangwa and Wamanda areas, their work has moved
outside the town. At Figanga, a few miles out of Ludewa, they
have even built a dispensary. They also have churches at important
villages such as Mlangali and Manda.
I think it is true
that this growing alongside each other has been almost entirely
friendly and free of conflict. I would often find the local
Lutheran pastor present when I went for Confirmation services,
especially in areas where the Anglicans were the newcomers.
(I have to say that the pastor at Yakobi was never present.
I could not say if this was due to past history.) There has
been a sense of a common mission to reach those as yet untouched
by the Gospel and sometimes of a common mission to those who
have totally lapsed without really worrying about who had done
the original evangelising and who was doing the recalling. In
this respect the relationship has been very different from that
between the mainline churches and the Pentecostal groups. These
tend to arrive in new areas and deliberately try to draw away
those belonging to the mainline churches, whether Lutheran,
Anglican or Roman Catholic.
Of course this friendly
cooperation does not entirely exclude rivalry. One example of
this is over the question of denominational universities. After
independence schools were nationalised. At that time the only
institution of tertiary education in the country was the University
College of Dar es Salaam, at that time still affiliated to London
University. Within a few years this was raised to university
status, but voluntary bodies were not allowed to run schools
or colleges (except for the training of their own clergy). By
the late 1980s it was abundantly clear, especially with the
population rapidly increasing, that the government lacked the
resources to provide education by itself. Voluntary agencies,
including churches and even associations of parents, were encouraged
to found both primary and secondary schools, and in the 1990s
major bodies, such as churches, were allowed to run their own
universities.
The Roman Catholic
Church now has two universities. The Lutheran Church also has
a university with some excellent faculties. These universities
have been formed by incorporating existing institutions on different
campuses, such as the theological college at Makumira, near
Arusha, and raising them to university status. By the early
years of the new century, the Anglicans lacked a university
and the then Archbishop, Donald Mtetemela, made the founding
of an Anglican university a high priority. Some funding was
obtained from abroad. Individual dioceses were given impossible
targets of money to raise. The government agreed to return a
secondary school in Dodoma which had been nationalised to serve
as the headquarters and in 2007 the first students entered St
John's Anglican University. One of the priests from the Diocese
of South West Tanganyika is there now. It is true that more
university places are needed. But I rather suspect that the
enormous effort to open a new university in a very short period
of time owed something to denominational rivalry, as well as
a commendable desire to provide needed opportunities for higher
education.
Nevertheless, in
spite of examples like this, today we have a picture of peaceful
coexistence and this is both expressed in and cemented by membership
of the Christian Council of Tanzania (CCT). Its chairman has
usually been the Lutheran Presiding Bishop or the Anglican Archbishop
and many of its staff members have been drawn from the two churches
(as well as from other member churches of CCT). Yet in spite
of all this harmony and cooperation there is virtually no sign
of a movement towards any form of closer union. Why is this?
I do not think that
theological differences are preventing a closer union. If one
looks at what is actually preached and taught, it would be hard
to detect a difference. In Njombe I imported a priest from Masasi
to take charge of the Cathedral. He was in constant demand at
the Lutheran Cathedral just down the road, not just as a visiting
preacher, but to give series of talks and seminars. One of the
more able Anglican theological teachers, who at one time was
the principal of one of the two provincial theological colleges,
actually became a Lutheran pastor (after failing to secure election
as a bishop). And again if you look at what is actually believed
and taught, in most congregations in both churches there are
renewal movements, fellowships, which are virtually identical.
It is certainly not
liturgical incompatibility which prevents a closer union. In
the Anglican dioceses there is already an enormous difference
between the Anglo-Catholic traditions inherited from the UMCA
and the evangelical tradition of the CMS. In dress for a Communion
service in the UMCA dioceses the celebrant wears eucharistic
vestments, in the CMS dioceses a surplice and black scarf. In
the UMCA dioceses the celebrant faces east or west; in the CMS
dioceses he celebrates at the north end of the altar table.
There are even different hymn books for the two traditions.
I do not know so much about liturgical variety in the Lutheran
churches, but I suspect that there was considerable difference
between the traditions inherited from Scandinavia and North
America. It is certainly the case that Lutheran bishops, like
Anglican bishops of the UMCA tradition, are happy to wear cope
and mitre, whereas Anglican bishops of the CMS tradition virtually
never do so.
Given the variety
which exists in the two churches and the similarities between
them, I think it is abundantly clear that there is no overwhelming
liturgical reason which holds the two churches back from closer
unity. Again if one looks at the united churches, one can see
that they are able to tolerate a considerable degree of liturgical
variety. It is true that the united Churches of North India
and South India both have their own liturgies. But, to take
just one example, there is an enormous difference between the
liturgy you would find in St George's Cathedral in Chennai (Madras),
which is in the Anglican tradition, and the liturgy you would
find in Home Church in Nagercoil (in the same state), where
evangelism was undertaken by the London Missionary Society.
It is true that some
Anglicans of the high church tradition have been more interested
in closer relations with the Roman Catholic Church than with
the Lutheran Church or indeed with any other church. In the
late 1940s several of the UMCA missionaries became Roman Catholics,
including one missionary doctor who settled in Tanzania, married
a Tanzanian and became minister of health in Julius Nyerere's
first government. The last expatriate Bishop of Masasi, who
died in retirement in Tanzania only a few weeks ago, used to
speak of his desire to negotiate some kind of uniat status with
the Roman Catholic Church. Another Anglican missionary in Tanzania
converted to Roman Catholicism in 1993 and is now a White Father
in Tabora. However, this attraction to the Roman Catholic Church
was almost entirely confined to the missionaries. A local leader
as totally steeped in the Anglo-Catholic tradition as the former
Archbishop John Ramadhani was not in the least attracted in
that direction.
So what has prevented
a closer cooperation, perhaps even an organic union, which would
appear in many ways very attractive? The respective areas of
strength of the two churches, if brought together, would result
in a church with a very substantial presence in virtually every
part of the country. I would suggest two reasons - and I hope
that they do not sound too cynical.
The first is that
churches which are relatively strong do not feel an urgent impetus
towards unity. It is no accident that, on the Anglican side,
the Indian sub-continent has been the only area in which schemes
for reunion have come to fruition. The separated churches were
so tiny, especially in the heartlands of North India, in relation
to a vast population that separate existence did appear to be
nonsense. They were also very weak in relation to government.
This could seen in the way in which most church leaders (there
were a few honourable exceptions) actually congratulated Mrs
Gandhi on the declaration of the state of emergency in 1975.
It could also be seen in the anti-propagation law enacted by
the Janata government which came to power in 1977 and which
(without mentioning them) was aimed at Christians.
In much of Africa,
and certainly in Tanzania, the situation is vastly different.
Over ten per cent of the total population belongs to the Lutheran
Church and a little under ten per cent to the Anglican Church.
The leaders are very conscious of being in charge of powerful
and growing institutions. The Presiding Bishop of the Lutheran
Church and the Archbishop of the Anglican Church have direct
access to the President. It is not unusual for the President
to be present at the consecration of new bishops. As we have
seen in the banking crisis here, it is the weaker institutions
which can be desperate for a merger. I believe that the sense
of confidence as churches grow is one reason which detracts
from any sense of urgency about closer union.
The second reason
- and I hesitate to mention it - has to do with ambition. In
both churches, and in most other churches in Tanzania, there
is considerable enthusiasm for and competition for election
to the episcopate. In the Anglican church this has been one
of the reasons for the rapid division of dioceses, sometimes
leading to new dioceses which are financially extremely weak.
Now picture the situation
if the two churches were united. The total number of dioceses
in the two churches together at present is over forty. A united
church would not have more than about thirty dioceses, at least
at the time of union. Simple arithmetic indicates that election
to the episcopate would become considerably more difficult.
So, in brief, we
see two churches which live in harmony, which cooperate both
locally and through the Christian Council of Tanzania, which
are not separated by any unbridgeable chasms in terms of theology
or liturgy or church polity, which in plain geographical terms
complement each other to a considerable degree, but which manifest
no sense of urgency for a closer union.
I have been asked
to say a little about the problems now facing the Anglican Communion.
I will not attempt deal with the issue of homosexuality as such,
nor will I try to explain exactly what the situation is at present,
still less to predict the future. I will simply try to explain
how the situation looks from a Tanzanian perspective, although
I will not be able to hide the fact that I have little sympathy
for the hardliners on either side.
Disagreement over
the issue of homosexuality is, of course, widespread in many
churches. Even in the Roman Catholic Church, writers such as
James Alison have pleaded for a more generous attitude towards
it. I think it has become such a fraught issue in the Anglican
Communion, because of the nature of Anglican polity. If there
were a more authoritarian structure where policy could be dictated
or if there were only a loose federation of churches in which
very considerable differences could be tolerated, the issue
would not have been so damaging. So how does it actually look?
In the United States,
of course, homosexuality has become a very widely although not
universally tolerated part of culture. Liberals in the Episcopal
Church see acceptance of this part of contemporary culture as
fundamental. We had an Episcopal priest of such views staying
with us a few months ago, and she simply could not accept that
any other point of view was tolerable.
So much do the liberals
see their point of view as the only possible one that they have
frequently not been able to extend the same generosity to conservatives
who disagree with them as they have to homosexuals. And liberal
bishops have even resorted to legal means to ensure that their
preferred policy is adopted in all the parishes of their diocese.
Again, a cardinal
virtue for many of the liberals is inclusivism, an attitude
which believes that the Gospel compels us to be inclusive towards
minority groups and attitudes. The insistence on inclusivism
can become so powerful that, in my judgement, it can actually
make dispassionate discussion of ethical issues quite difficult.
Another factor in
the American Church which has contributed to the present situation
is isolationism. Although there are exceptions, many in the
Episcopal Church do not have a strong sense of belonging to
a worldwide communion of churches. Many of them have almost
no idea of how their decisions will impact on their fellow Christians
in other parts of the world and perhaps do not care very much.
Again, at least from
the point of view of many Africans, many Americans are so convinced
that their way of interpreting the Bible and understanding the
faith is right that they look down on others. This became very
obvious in the Lambeth Conference of 1998 when Bishop John Spong
of New ark made disparaging comments about African attempts
to understand the Bible.
Turning to the African
point of view (although I should mention that the situation
in South Africa is considerably different), the first thing
to say is that nearly everyone shares an instinctive aversion
to homosexuality. This is true whether the person is more or
less thoughtful and more or less judgemental. I remember Walter
Brueggemann in his Theology of the Old Testament suggests that
this instinctive aversion reflects not so much a rational ethical
decision as a deep-seated feeling that a fundamental purity
code is at stake.
Side by side with
this is the situation of living alongside large Muslim communities.
In Tanzania where the Christian and Muslim communities are of
roughly the same size, the situation has not been as difficult
as in places where Christians are a minority. Even so when Punitha,
my wife, was in Dar es Salaam to process the import of a vehicle
at the end of 2003 (shortly after the consecration of Bishop
Gene Robinson), the Muslim lady in one of the government offices
on seeing the name' Anglican Church' on one of the forms said,
'Oh, the homosexual church.'
On the interpretation
of the Bible there is a feeling that the west tries to have
it both ways. Many do not distinguish between the westerners
who first brought the Bible and the westerners who interpret
it to day. So they note that, when the question at issue was
polygamy and Africans insisted it was part of their culture,
they were told that the Bible is absolutely clear on the matter,
but when the issue is homosexuality and they are trying to insist
that the Bible is clear, they are told, 'Ah, but it all depends
on how you interpret it. '
There is also a sense
that for years they have been manipulated by those who controlled
the purse strings and those who understood procedure at meetings.
There have been cases where possible withholding of funds has
been used as a threat and where expertise in procedure has been
used to produce a resolution which many Africans thought they
had the numbers to defeat. Here the Africans are very aware
of the enormous number of bishops the Episcopal Church fields
at Lambeth Conferences, especially considering its comparatively
small membership.
And here we can see
that homosexuality has become the issue over which the churches
in the global south, especially in Africa, have been able to
assert their new sense of power and confidence. This was very
clear when in October 2004 at Lagos, Nigeria, the first African
Anglican Bishops' Conference was held. The theme of the Conference
was 'The African Church comes of age.' There were unmistakeable
echoes of the Lambeth Conference, even down to the daily newspaper
which was produced. Financially, the Nigerian Church has considerable
funds of its own now. And financial dependence on western liberals
has been lessened by some wealthy conservatives in the USA who
have offered resources.
So to a considerable
extent homosexuality just happens to have been the issue around
which African church leaders have asserted their new confidence.
I say church leaders, because at least in Tanzania the issue
is not discussed at the grassroots. I have said that there is
an instinctive aversion, but in my own diocese, the clergy were
only vaguely aware that there was an issue here: most of them
had far more pressing concerns. And the ordinary folk in the
villages were totally unaware that there was an issue at all.
I do have to say
that there has been a degree of hypocrisy. While taking a very
firm line on the issue of homosexuality, some leaders of have
been much more tolerant of moral lapses, such as theft or adultery,
when they manifest themselves nearer to home. This is the situation
which has confronted Archbishop Rowan Williams. At the time
of his appointment liberals believed that he would wholeheartedly
support them. Conservatives were worried. He wrote a letter
to all the primates (the heads of provinces) in which he distinguished
between his freedom as a private theologian to explore and his
duty as a bishop to guard the faith as the common mind of the
church has received and interpreted it. He was unlucky enough
to be confronted with difficult problems very soon after his
enthronement, including the appointment of Jeffrey John as Bishop
of Reading. It appears to be the case that he sent out rather
confused signals about his likely reaction to this. Since then
some liberals have accused him of abandoning his own personal
convictions for the sake of peace in the church, and some conservatives
of not being firm enough on the issue of homosexuality because
of his personal convictions.
In fact, he has laboured
very hard to give both conservatives and liberals space to listen
to each other. Nothing illustrates this more clearly than one
of his presidential addresses to last year's Lambeth Conference
in which by a piece of what his biographer calls theological
ventriloquism he demonstrated his ability to put himself in
the shoes of both conservative and liberal.
Here he is expressing
the mind of a conservative: "What we seek to do in our
context is faithfully to pass on what you have passed on to
us - Holy Scripture, apostolic ministry, sacramental discipline.
But what are we to think when all these things seem to be questioned
and even overturned? We want to be pastorally caring to all,
to be 'inclusive', as you might say. We want to welcome everyone.
Yet the gospel and the faith you passed on to us tell us that
some kinds of behaviour are nor blessed by God. Our love and
our welcome are not real if we don't truthfully let others know
what has shaped and directed our lives - so along with welcome,
we must still challenge people to change their ways."
And here he is putting
on the shoes of the liberal: "We are often hurt, angry
and bewildered at the way many others in the Communion see us
and treat us these days ¸as if we were spiritual lepers
or traitors to every aspect of Christian belief. We know that
no one is the best judge in their own case, but we see in our
church life at least some marks of the Spirit's gifts. And part
of that is acknowledging the gifts we've seen in gay and lesbian
believers. They will certainly be likely to feel that the restraint
you ask for is betrayal. Please try to see why this is such
a dilemma for many of us. You may not see it, but gay people
are still at risk in our society, still vulnerable to murderous
violence."
While the process
of trying to find a way to live together continues, especially
the proposal for a covenant between the autonomous provinces,
one can only hope and pray that that this generous readiness
to hear and understand each other will grow.
