REFLECTION FOR MARCH
2015 PETER MILLAR
petermillarreflects.blogspot.co.uk
Close to the
Jaffa Gate in Jerusalem stands the Tower of David. It dates from before the
time of Christ and is now a famous museum, full of precious archaeological
finds. Also known as the Jerusalem Citadel it was enlarged in the 5th
century and because the Byzantine Christians thought it was the palace of King
David they named it “the Tower of David” – borrowing the name from words in the
Song of Songs reputedly written by David’s son Solomon. “Thy neck is like the
Tower of David built with turrets upon which hang a thousand shields, all the
armour of mighty warriors.” Today the tower looks out over divided Jerusalem,
perhaps, in quiet moments, reflecting on its own often turbulent history.
In Jerusalem over the years, millions of visitors have gone
to the Tower of David. Hardly any have visited another Tower of David which I
have been reading about recently. This second tower, known to locals by the
same name as the one in Jerusalem, stands in the teeming heart of Caracas, the
largest city in Venezuela, a country with one of the world’s lowest minimum
wage rates and with high unemployment. As in many countries and despite
attempts by successive left-wing
governments to bring greater equality, Venezuela remains divided between those who have much
and those who have nothing. Although it is true that there is a growing
middle-class, the Caracas Tower of David, built in 1990, mirrors the huge
divisions, not just within that country but within the present global economic
order. It is 52 storeys high and was intended to house luxury apartments but
the developer went bankrupt. In recent years this unfinished structure, which
is in many respects very unsafe has been home to 750 local families who are
squatting there indefinitely.
The Dutch photographer Iwan Baan who has visited the tower
writes: “About 3,000 people live in the tower. There is such an immense need
for housing in Caracas that any vacant place is squatted. The political system
is so dysfunctional people have to find their own way of dealing with things.
Almost 70% of the city’s population live in self-built structures, slums and
barrios. At first, the tower was just a construction site: no elevators,
running water or electricity. But over the years more and more families have
moved in, and nowadays it’s more like a village – a self-sustaining community
in the sky. It has its own economy – every floor has a shop, there are
hairdressers and a gym. Connected to the tower is a car park, also unfinished.
Because there are no elevators, people set up taxi services in the car park,
which ferry people and goods up and down the ramps between the floors The
ingenuity is incredible. These people have absolutely nothing, but they have
ways to get by. They are so proud of what they’ve achieved – they built
everything in there by hand.”
Dr Martin Luther King wrote: “the moral arc of the universe
is long but is tilted towards justice.” Many believe that, even if we often see
signs to the contrary. Several of the Biblical passages used by the churches
around the world during Lent remind us of that tilt towards justice: of God’s
preferential option for the poor, for families like those in that great
unfinished tower in Caracas. In recent weeks I have had the opportunity to be
at worship services in various churches here in Scotland. Some have quite large
congregations, others only a handful of people. Some are concerned only about
their own welfare while others seek to reach out not just to the local
community, but to those much further afield. Yet (and here I include myself)
are we honestly in our prayers and worship able to comprehend in a meaningful
way what it is to have nothing? We all know that actually feeling what the poor
experience is almost impossible; a truth which came home to me every day when
our home was in South India. Not only are we “comfortable” but even the most
compassionate and insightful hearts can be unknowingly patronising to those who
have nothing. I know this is a complicated issue which has led to endless
discussion within many aid agencies as they seek to walk alongside marginalised
people in places of great poverty.
As we think of our sisters and brothers going up and down
these ramps inside that 52- storey unsafe Tower of David in Venezuela, can we
also think of God thinking about them? That may sound strange, but on the Cross
as he was dying Christ was concerned about the two criminals who hung on either
side of him. Not just about his own death but also about their well-being and
future. “Today you will be with me in Paradise,” he told one of them – in other
words, today you will be held in the loving hands of your Creator. Our
Christian faith is never something just individual. It is not just about how I
feel with God. It’s much more about how God feels about us all, and although
some would disagree, I often feel he is much closer to the folk in that tower
in Caracas than to me. The tilt to divine justice is still very much in play in
our world. That being so, I hope I sometimes feel uncomfortable as I understand
more about how my way of living is directly, not indirectly, connected to the poverty of millions of others, even if
many see no such connection.
Lent is a time given to us by God to think hard and long
about all these inter-connections. To allow ourselves to experience the pain
others feel. To know that their sorrow is also our sorrow. To recognise that the Christian faith is never
static but can take us to difficult places in which we are neither secure nor
comfortable. Our global technology is propelling us to understand more
intelligently God’s world of which we are a tiny, yet meaningful part. At its
best, technology is bringing us close to the truth of our common heart-beat; to
the knowledge that the Tower of David in Caracas is part and parcel of our own
short journey in this life. That is a living truth which both discomforts and
encourages us. The late, and great, Bishop Helder Camara of Recife in North
East Brazil was able to express it succinctly. “Lord, don’t give us an easy
peace in our hearts but press us uncomfortably till we find that other peace
which is truly Your peace.” In the book “HOLY
GROUND: liturgies and worship for an engaged spirituality” by Neil Paynter and
Helen Boothroyd there are these lines from a litany – “ When politics and policies
are biased to the poor, then shall the light shine forth like the dawn. When
none go hungry and good food is for all, then shall the light shine forth like
the dawn.” Let us all say ‘Amen’ to that
as we move through these weeks of Lent.
