About the Author(s)


Graham A. Duncan Email symbol
Department of Church History, Christian Spirituality and Missiology, Faculty of Human Sciences, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa

Citation


Duncan, G.A., 2023, ‘Cerebral faith and faith in praxis in the churches of European origin: The Presbyterian Church of South(ern) Africa’, HTS Teologiese Studies/Theological Studies 79(1), a8182. https://doi.org/10.4102/hts.v79i1.8182

Original Research

Cerebral faith and faith in praxis in the churches of European origin: The Presbyterian Church of South(ern) Africa

Graham A. Duncan

Received: 03 Oct. 2022; Accepted: 14 Nov. 2022; Published: 22 Feb. 2023

Copyright: © 2023. The Author(s). Licensee: AOSIS.
This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License, which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited.

Abstract

This article investigated the paradox between church response to apartheid and resulting action at the local level in the South African churches of European origin from the perspective of the Presbyterian Church of South(ern) Africa (PCSA). It indicated that this discrepancy arose between the reflections (cerebral faith) at the highest levels of church councils, which operated in an intermittent manner and at a distance, compared with the responses (praxis as faith in action) of local church members who lived at the coalface of the struggle and sought to witness in a society dominated by racism, where the tension between faith and politics was most evident. The primary focus was on two inter-racial congregations, one of the PCSA, the other a united congregation in which the PCSA participated. This study used primary and secondary sources. The theoretical framework of the article was Thomas Groome’s approach of shared praxis.

Contribution: This article contributed to the history of the apartheid era in ecclesiastical contexts. It demonstrated the anomalies that arose within different constituencies within churches of European origin by investigating the situation in one particular denomination. This was a discussion of the relationship of faith and politics in the private and public domains, which takes account of developments within a shared praxis approach.

Keywords: Apartheid; cerebral faith; Church and Nation Committee; churches of European origin; faith in action; North End Presbyterian Church; shared praxis; Presbyterian Church of South(ern) Africa (PCSA); racism; St Antony’s United Church.

Introduction

A historical discrepancy exists between what the churches of European origin in South Africa stated as the result of their deliberations in their highest councils regarding apartheid policies and their subsequent actions to challenge these policies of ‘separate development’ at the local level.

This paradox is demonstrated clearly in the Presbyterian Church of South(ern) Africa (PCSA) and subsequent decisions of her General Assembly regarding the state-implemented policy of apartheid and the subsequent actions of her presbyteries, congregations and members.

History and context are two influential factors in the relationship between church and state or ‘church and nation’, as the PCSA named one of its committees with a remit to consider matters of political significance to the church. Prime among these is racism, where:

[T]he history of the PCSA with regard to race presents a mixed picture. On the one hand it has been characterised by racial segregation, racial prejudice, paternalism, and conservatism in the face of glaring injustice; on the other hand, in spite of attempts by some outsiders to paint the picture darker than it is, there have also been real attempts to take a stand against segregation and injustice. (Bax 1997:19)

The origin, growth and development of the PCSA is integral to the same secular history of South Africa from the arrival of the first settlers in the Cape through the migration of Presbyterians throughout Southern Africa during the 19th century, continuing into the 20th century. This was a history of racially based segregation and discrimination, displacing attempts to establish integrated congregations (Venter 1994:89f).

The situation altered radically in 1948 with the election of a Nationalist Party government, as the informal policy of segregation was replaced with the legislated crude racist policy of apartheid aiming to achieve total separation of races, resulting in protests from, inter alia, the churches, including the PCSA. As a result, racially mixed worship faced a serious threat.

Shared praxis

One of the significant challenges the churches of European origin faced was the paradox between cerebral faith (often masquerading as neutrality, as thoughtful or thoughtless collusion with the status quo), which Robertson (1999:159) described as ‘getting their heads into the sand or oiling their guns’, and the faith in action (praxis). Traditionally, education functioned as a process that led to conformity and maintenance of the status quo. It dehumanised, domesticated and oppressed (Groome 1980:176), rather than working towards the authentic humanisation of people, which is humanity’s ‘vocation’ (Freire 1974:28). It is a deeply political activity, as it:

Has the effect of promoting a world view and human value system likely to maintain present cultural arrangements and social structures … In all educational activity choices are made about the past to be preserved and the future to be proposed. These are political choices and the activity arising from them is a political activity. (Groome 1980:16)

This is a predominantly rational cerebral process which becomes the exercise of ‘power over’ rather than ‘power with’, which can enable transformation to take place.

Groome’s proposal is the exercise of ‘power with’ and ‘being with’; therefore, it produces tension between conservation and liberative creativity (Groome 1980:17). In this innovative process, Groome’s (1980:xvii, note i) definition of praxis is used. It is:

[…‘R]eflective action’, that is, a practice that it informed by theoretical reflection, or, conversely, a theoretical reflection that is informed by practice … The term praxis attempts to keep theory and practice together as dual and mutually enriching moments of the same intentional human activity. (Groome 1980:xvii, note i)

This process involves the creative aspect and challenges the status quo.

In more recent research, Groome (1991:142–145) focuses more on the ‘shared’ nature of praxis ‘as one of mutual partnership, active participation, and dialogue with oneself, with others, with God, and with the Story/Vision of Christian faith’ (Groome 1991:142). This indicates a communal activity, and his approach resonates with the African context where the community is the focus of reflection and is expressed as ubuntu (harmony and creative peace-making in society) as with shalom in Old Testament society. These terms define and express Christian vocation. This is in opposition to our contemporary ‘society, so marked by individualism and competition [and] … the church which can be so magisterial and/or clericalized’ (Groome 1991:142). This suggests the need for a head (intellectual), heart (affective) and hand (active) approach rather than the traditional, intellectual, rational approach.

It is based on Bloom’s taxonomy (first designed in 1956). It offers an ascending dynamic concept of classification from basic knowledge to abstract creative thinking (Preville n.d.:6).

Partnership involves mutuality. Participation implies community and encourages ‘people to express, reflect, encounter, appropriate and make decisions, while respecting each person’s participative style’ (Groome 1991:144). This resonates with Resane’s (2017) ‘communion ecclesiology’. In Southern African contexts, ecclesial communion is not automatically experienced by members of the church. The pastoral priority is to form genuine Christian communities, especially at the congregational and village level, where communion is truly experienced. Historically, this has been an exclusive process, even within denominations, while ‘true’ communion is integrative, inclusive, relational and participatory. Authentic dialogue affirmation affirms the twin processes of affirmation and confrontation of self, others and God. It leads to ‘faith identity/agency that is radically communal’ (Groome 1991:142) and engages the values of faith (trust), hope (openness to what is being discovered and uncovered together) and love (in-depth listening with the heart) (Groome 1991:144). Related to Bloom’s taxonomy, we might suggest that the basic response of church members operated at the level of basic knowledge resulting from government pro-apartheid propaganda, which was derived from a rather simplistic race-based interpretation of the doctrine of humanity, compared with the reasoned and engaged praxis approach of the Church and Nation (CN) committee that reflected on the discrepancy between this and the vision of a reconciled human community (Gal 3:28). The CN committee’s vision was to emphasise the development of a subversive praxis-oriented faith-in-action community of believers.

Groome (1991:ix) delineates a five-movement model of shared Christian praxis:

Movement 1: Naming and/or Expressing ‘Present Praxis’

Movement 2: Critical Reflection on Present Action

Movement 3: Maki ng Accessible Christian Story and Vision

Movement 4: Dialectical Hermeneutic to Appropriate Christian Story/Vision to Participants’ Stories and Visions

Movement 5: Decision and or Response for Lived Christian Faith. (Groome 1991:ix, 146–154)

This emerging approach is ‘natural’, ‘public’ and inculturated (Groome 1991:ix). It offers values which are relevant to a study of integrated congregations and (some elements of which) were even current in integrated congregations prior to the emergence of shared Christian praxis.

Integrated congregations

Integrated congregations were one response to the racism inherent in the policy of apartheid. The PCSA was racially integrated at the higher levels of organisation, while at the congregational level it was clearly divided into white, black, coloured and Indian congregations through the historical organisation of separate missions (PCSA 1897:16–17, 1958:48). A similar differentiation in racial division was also evident in the Anglican, Congregational, Methodist and Roman Catholic churches (all churches of European origin [CEOs]). Yet a social history of South African congregations shows that the ideal of mixed congregations existed since the start (Venter 1994:x) of settlement in South Africa. While it could be argued that this was the result of ‘residential rationalisation’, it took no account that many black domestic workers lived in white areas (Robertson 1997:4).

Rev. Rob Robertson attempted to resolve the racial separateness of congregations by proposing to the General Assembly of the PCSA in 1958 that a pilot scheme be initiated in large cities to form integrated congregations. This proposal failed (Robertson 1997:4).

North End

Following this, in July 1960, Robertson sent a letter to interested friends inviting them to ‘inter-racial church services’ (Robertson 1997):

In past days there were European congregations of many churches in which African and Coloured folk attended services regularly, and vice versa there were Europeans who regularly were present at Communion services, etc. with African congregations. These contacts have diminished and in some places completely vanished with the pressures of the past few years for separation of all races. It is because I feel that some definite effort is needed to restablish [sic] this personal Christian contact that I am endeavouring to start these services. (p. 7)

The local elders committed themselves to establish the North End congregation on 27 December 1961 (Robertson 1997:17). While the project was well supported in some quarters, there was opposition from within the PCSA. Rev. Lawrence Currie, minister of St Andrew’s, Cape Town, claimed that ‘to approve this proposal would be to brand all other congregations as “hypocrites”.’ ‘We are open to any race’ (Robertson 1997:10). Interestingly, Currie’s congregation had only white members. Nonetheless, the denomination provided financial help for North End. The Presbyterian newsletter, The Leader, reported:

[…A]fter earnest and heart-searching debate the Assembly authorised the inauguration of a multi-racial congregation in East London. Many of the older heads were shaking dubiously over this, but the wisdom of the Church is older than the grey beards, and dictated that there might be grave spiritual peril in preventing an experiment which, under God, might set a pattern for future church life. (Rev. R. Orr in Robertson 1997:10)

Relative to what happened in 1994, and subsequently, this was prophetic talk indeed. North End’s aim was simple:

[T]o demonstrate […] namely that a Presbyterian congregation could function in all the usual aspects of church life on a racially integrated basis, and that it could do this within the restrictions of apartheid laws. (Robertson 1997:10)

Publicity regarding the opening of the North End congregation stated:

Christ’s cause is losing ground because the Church that declares him to be the Reconciler who has broken down the middle wall of partition is itself deeply divided by man-made traditions. Our denominational division is dangerous enough, but the racial division is well-nigh paralysing to real Christianity. (Robertson 1997:19)

The congregation held its first service on 18 March 1962 ‘after two years of praying, planning, practising and pushing’ (Robertson 1997:22) with a mixed group of around 85 persons present. The Port Elizabeth newspaper, Die Oosterlig, reported:

The Assembly of the Presbyterian Church has felt itself called to throw tradition overboard and to promote racial mixture in an organised, artificial manner in a country where separate development of the races is the official policy. We leave it to the public to try to distinguish between politics and religion in this church. (Robertson 1997: 33)

This was a poor interpretation of Presbyterian tradition which defined racial integration as ‘artificial’. It further begs the question regarding the historical separation of politics and religion.

This was a time when other ecumenical contacts were developing – the World Council of Churches Cottesloe Conference (1960, following the Sharpeville massacre) and ecumenical study groups around South Africa forming into the Christian Institute with its journal Pro Veritate.

However, all was not smooth sailing. There was no overt division but rather a ‘deeper’ opposition. In 1963, the Session reported to the first Annual Congregational Meeting:

After a year of association the African and Coloured still feels reserve in the presence of Europeans, unable to express themselves freely. This has something to do with language but more to do with the mastery that Europeans have held for so many generations in South Africa. The Europeans in their turn want to see quick and definite results. ‘We have come half way. Why is the African so slow to meet us?’ Trust and patience take time to grow … they are Christian graces and we who follow Christ must persevere in them. (Robertson 1997:37)

A year later, it was noted that:

[…W]e have grown closer together as friends in Christ. There is nothing ‘experimental’ about this. These friendships are not temporary and it will take a lot to tear them apart. (Robertson 1997:48)

The report was somewhat prophetic:

We must play a much greater part in leading public opinion with a witness of harmony and with help given to the weak and needy. We can look forward even to a time when this church will be sending out its members to other congregations to share what we have learned here and to spread the open-hearted spirit. (Robertson 1997:48)

This is precisely what happened. Yet, in the meantime, there was a lack of support from other ministers:

For all their professed aversion to apartheid and for all the Africans’ moaning about discrimination they have done nothing to help us, plenty to hinder us. (Robertson 1997:49)

As a result, they were not even neutral in their attitude to North End. They actually worked against its innovative racial stance. Of course, one reason might have been their insecurity about potentially losing members, besides their personal covert racist attitudes. Despite early hesitation, Rev. G. Ndzotyana of the Bantu Presbyterian Church (Robertson 1997:49) later participated in the North End congregation through pulpit exchanges (Robertson 1997:59). By comparison, Rev. W.D. Campbell of the adjacent PCSA St George’s congregation in East London justified the PCSA’s indifference by claiming it had no alternative but to ‘bow to authority’ (Robertson 1997:59).

In 1966 there was an attempt to form a united congregation out of three neighbouring congregations (North End, St Paul’s [white], and Parkside [coloured]). This failed. The Annual Meeting Report of North End stated:

[…I]t has brought to light the hidden prejudices that keep our congregations racially separated. It is now plain that the reasons for this separation are not distance, language, culture, but race and political considerations. (Robertson 1997:83)

This was a painful indictment of the South African ecclesiastical context after the experience of almost 20 years of apartheid and of the power of politics to neutralise and jettison the gospel.

Contemporaneously, negotiations were taking place involving the black Bantu and Tsonga Presbyterian Churches. The Bantu Presbyterian Church (BPC) were inspired in part, at least, by the example of North End (Robertson 1997:74). Robertson (1997) was well aware by this time of the impending ‘conclusion of North End’s pioneering stage’ (p. 129). This was with the publication of A Message to the People of South Africa (1968) by the South African Council of Churches (SACC), in which the incompatibility of apartheid and the gospel was affirmed. This document gained national interest, although the PCSA hesitated before it declared its support.

It was at this time that a transnational perspective was introduced into the matter with the impending independence of Zambia in 1964, where ‘white Christians had begun to discover African brothers and sisters’ (Robertson 1997:61). Harold Munro, Church Extension and Aid convener, suggested to the 1964 General Assembly that:

In Northern Rhodesia the experiment of integration in the Church will occur in a community in which it will be commonplace. It should therefore have a naturalness which we cannot hope to achieve elsewhere, and the Church will be free, one hopes, of extraneous pressures in order to explore both the blessings and the problems with which integration faces Christians. If our church is to come to wisdom and maturity in race relations, it is from Northern Rhodesia that we must hope to learn. (Robertson 1997:61)

While there was a union of a black and a white congregation in Lusaka in October 1964, Munro appears not to have understood the different political contexts in which he was talking of integration – one free and the other bound by apartheid. Furthermore, it should be noted that following independence there was an exodus of white members of the PCSA from Zambia, thereby resolving a potential racial problem. Rev. Fred Bennet in Lusaka commented that ‘I think the fellowship you enjoy is more real than ours in spite of Munro’s fine words’ (Robertson 1997:61–62). The situation in Zambia was further clarified by Rev. Brian Stumbles at the time when North End attempted to overture the General Assembly with a view to increasing the number of pilot projects similar to North End in 1968. In Robertson’s diary entry for 11 June 1968 (Robertson 1997:125–126), Stumbles (as recorded in Robertson’s diary) wrote:

…[A]fter five years here I continue to watch people gravitate to their own particular skin pigmentation, even when no political pressure is brought to bear on them. I do not know how this process is to be reversed.

Robertson maintained that the failure of the overture at presbytery level was the result of the clear perception that North End:

Is succeeding, that it is going to succeed more if it is given a chance. And they want to maintain the status quo which does not disturb them. Their vote against is the proof of North end’s success. (Diary, 20 July 1968 in Robertson 1997:127)

A strange anomaly was observed that ‘there was remarkable resistance from reputedly liberal people’ (Robertson 1997:128), an instance which was reflected in the 1970 General Assembly. Was this, perhaps, evidence of a rejection of a twinge of conscience among the liberals who believed themselves to be the leaders in the struggle against apartheid?

North End remained ‘a pioneering outpost’ (Robertson 1997:62).

Bill Campbell had described North End as a ‘safety valve’ [i.e. taking the pressure off the rest of the PCSA]. Let’s take away the safety valve and see what they do. (Robertson diary 20 August 1969, 1997:145)

The 1969 Assembly faced two options with regard to integrated congregations according to Robertson (1997:145):

  • that the Church cares nothing for integration, despite all its talk, and therefore North End as a safety valve should be removed, or
  • that we are through with experiments and want the real thing, namely integration of existing congregations – in which case also North End is redundant.

No response is recorded in Assembly minutes.

At a congregational meeting on 18 March 1970, the Session proposed two options. The first was to disperse the congregation to other Presbyterian congregations and thereby begin the process of integrating them. The second was to ask the Stirling congregation to adopt North End as a preaching station. The congregation unanimously voted for the first option (Robertson 1997:151). On 02 August 1970, the Presbytery of King William’s Town accepted the North End petition to dissolve the congregation (Robertson 1997:171), and this happened on 01 November 1970 (Robertson 1997:160).

In retrospect, Robertson (1997:viii) called the experiment ‘a confrontational event’ in terms of its political stance in relation to apartheid within the church at large but also within the PCSA: ‘It did not die, and it did not hang on; it exploded’ (Robertson 1997:145). It did not die from the lack of energy but from a build-up and dispersion of energy. Robertson (1997:162–163) evaluated this ‘experiment’ positively. It facilitated the process whereby other congregations could extend their membership to include all races. Then it complemented what others were doing in the broader South African context and prepared the way for a ‘shared’ society. It helped the PCSA as the smallest and most ultraconservative of the CEOs to engage with racial issues in an intimate manner, especially as it was the first South African denomination to engage in acts of civil disobedience and provide leadership to the other CEOs in following suit. The prophetic discernment of the PCSA helped the church to move into the future as ‘it struck at the ideological and emotional heart of apartheid and it helped to persuade whites to accept an end to that system’.

However, there was a discrepancy between the decisions of the PCSA and response on the ground. Mdlalose (2022:81) points to Robertson’s (1997:4) assertion that ‘like many other so-called multiracial churches, took high sounding resolutions, but the reality on the ground was segregation’. He (Mdlalose 2022:84–86) also points to the insight, courage, conviction, missionary spirit and openness to God’s leading in this ground-breaking venture.

St Antony’s, Pageview

After the demise of North End and serving 4 years at Stirling congregation, East London, the Robertsons began to investigate possibilities of joining the ‘city-wide inter-racial Christian fellowship’ (Robertson 1999:3) at St Antony’s, Pageview, in Johannesburg. In addition, this was an ecumenical congregation (Robertson 1999:15) which the Presbytery of Johannesburg had given 3 years ‘to prove its validity and viability’ (Robertson 1999:4). It was a project with which Rev. Ian and Valerie Thomson were involved. The Robertsons began work there from August 1974 until 1990 (Robertson 1999:4). It was during this period that the Sharpeville massacre took place in 1976.

Membership at St Antony’s was small and fluid, yet intimacy was characteristic of its fellowship (Robertson 1999:25–26). There was contact with local segregated congregations.

The unique ethos of St Antony’s was described by Lynn Stevenson (in Robertson 1999:34–40) as follows: classlessness and true reconciliation, acceptance and welcome given to all and sundry, music, sharing news, innovative worship, ‘latecomers anonymous’, meeting place, simplicity of lifestyle and authentic family atmosphere. On the other hand, there was some ambivalence concerning Robertson’s approach of nonviolence, teetotalism and refusal to remarry divorced persons. This was mitigated by his integrity (Robertson 1999:39). While English was the dominant language in use, African expressions were welcome intrusions into this colonial domain.

One of the most significant opportunities to engage in social justice issues arose with the emergence of conscientious objection (CO) relating to service in the South African National Defence Force (SANDF). This arose from the situation where the state failed to recognise ‘just war’ objectors and touched on the community’s approach to violence and nonviolence. The Union Defence Act (1912) sanctioned conscription, but this had been challenged by the SACC in 1974 when it encouraged CO on the grounds that conscription was inappropriate in the context of an unjust war. This was illegal (Robertson 1999:62). St Antony’s was directly involved through the resistance of family members in St Antony’s (Robertson 1999:63). In cases where family members were incarcerated: ‘St Antony’s provided an environment of support and approval not to be found in our conventional church family’ (Dorothy Steele, mother of Richard Steele, in Robertson 1999:63). Rob Robertson’s involvement in the SACC as Convener of the Commission on Violence and Non-Violence, along with other support from St Antony’s and other sources, led to the formation of the End Conscription Campaign (ECC) and amendments to the Defence Act in 1983 and 1992 in a context in which many were simply ignoring call-up and were not charged and punished (Robertson 1999:64). Ever hopeful, Robertson (1999:64) commented: ‘We pressed on and the gleams of light increased amid the gathering storm’. This was a good example of the shared praxis approach where action informed reflection and vice versa. St Antony’s was engaging on two levels, within and beyond its own community. This was a challenging and sensitive process.

It took place in the broader context of the issue of violence and war. Here the CN Committee raised this controversial issue in its report to the 1983 General Assembly and laid bare the tensions which existed within the PCSA:

Perhaps we find these issues so unsettling because we have not, in fact evangelised that part of life, even in our own thinking. It remains pagan, ie. outside the control of Christ. When all is comfortable and stable we are unaware of this, but when rapid change comes upon us we start to act in a pagan way, and we find it hard to understand why the ‘church’ as we have known and developed it is falling apart. (PCSA 1983:20)

Referring to the situation in Northern Ireland, he further commented:

[…I]t is members of those denominations which confine themselves to ‘spiritual’ matters and do not tackle social issues who simply reach for the gun when the troubles are upon them. (PCSA 1983:20)

Here again we note the lack of an engaged and interrogatory approach to Christian life, which is consistent with Groome’s critique. The report pointed out the anomaly which existed in such thinking by quoting from the Justice and Reconciliation News (July 1980):

If the Church was to advocate non-violence, it had to advocate greater courage than it took to fight. (A person taking part in non-violent action has no protection whereas a person involved in the armed struggle can rely on skill in handling a gun as protection). (PCSA 1983:21)

The outcome of the debate was a decision to invite congregations which had reservations regarding the Assembly’s decisions on C&N to afford an opportunity to the C&N Convener to meet with them and discuss ‘the concept of non-violence and the biblical basis claimed for it’ (PCSA 1983:208); however, the passive approach to these matters was condoned as the Assembly decided to investigate ‘ways of calling members of the PCSA to repeated times of repentance, fasting and prayer for guidance for meaningful change in South Africa’ (PCSA 1983:208). Agreed suggested action was to be limited to personal initiatives. The basic position of the PCSA regarding war was that it affirmed the just war doctrine, which allows for selective participation as the result of an evaluation of the social and political matters related to a particular conflict (PCSA 1983:24).

In 1977, St Antony’s took a decision to change its focus from relations with other churches to training those who wished to engage in Christian mission and ‘living beyond the social upheaval that faces the country’ (Robertson 1999:67). St Antony’s sent a letter to the Convener of the Life and Work Committee of the PCSA, in which it stated:

The PCSA has played the apartheid game most of the time, while wearing a multi-racial mask on public occasions. At grass roots we have been totally segregated and our members have worked hard to maintain this, and I don’t only mean white members! … We should get our minds off inspecting the lifeboats and on to steering the ship in the right direction – ‘the ship’ in this case not being the country, which we can’t steer, but our own congregations. I believe our most urgent need is to break down apartheid in our congregations and help them to be inclusive fellowships. (Robertson 1999:68)

This indicates the central issue at stake in this article, which is that the denomination has taken the stance of supporting apartheid while, when necessary, adopting a more challenging image, as in its public statements. Congregations have colluded in this to assuage their own consciences, convictions or fears.

This was not an isolated response to apartheid policies but was rather the norm, as can be seen from PCSA response to other issues. For example, with regard to the protests and action against the Group Areas Act, the Act was repealed in June 1991 as the result of a vigil which had taken place in protest against the eviction of Dhana and Raghubathy Naidu: ‘It needed the catalyst of just this one short-term act of civil disobedience to turn the tide’ (Robertson 1999:86). The shared praxis was evident here, as this was not simply an intellectual issue to be resolved but a very practical matter which required solidarity in material terms.

St Antony’s became a united congregation in 1979 as a result of the coming together of the PCSA and the United Congregational Church (UCCSA). This indicated another development, for the PCSA was a majority white church while the UCCSA was predominantly black and coloured.

In 1983, the referendum on the formation of a tricameral government was held, which would include the coloured and Indian populations in some form of partnership with the government. Black people were excluded from this process. Subsequently, the United Democratic Front (UDF) was formed. At the same time, the (majority white) Presbyterians and the (majority coloured) Congregationalists, whose Assemblies had agreed to union, failed to actually unite because of the lack of support at the Presbytery level in the PCSA. Race doubtless played a role here. The Kairos Document (KD) was published in 1985. This was an in-depth interpretation of the current state of affairs in South Africa in terms of state theology, church theology and prophetic theology. The first two represented theological responses which maintained the status quo, while prophetic theology offered a way forward that was praxis-based and future-oriented, a path towards a reconciled community grounded in hope (Kairos Theologians 1985:26–27). Inter alia, the KD interrogated the concepts of violence and nonviolence:

The problem of the Church here is that it starts from the premise that the apartheid regime in South Africa is a legitimate authority. It ignores the fact that it is a white majority regime which has imposed itself upon the majority of the people, that is blacks, in this country and that it maintains itself by brutality and violent force and the fact that a minority of South Africans regard it as illegitimate. In practice what one calls ‘violence’ and what one calls ‘self-defence’ seems to depend upon which side one is on. To call all physical force ‘violence’ is to try to be neutral and to refuse to make a judgment about who is right and who is wrong. (Kairos Theologians 1985:14–15)

Such thinking was not foreign to St Antony’s, who were already familiar with the Third Way theology of Wink (1987): Wink found most black South Africans repelled by the term “non-violence” even though it was nonviolent methods that they were finding most effective against apartheid (Robertson 1999:159). St Antony’s members were encouraged to act as responsibly as possible ‘while others were getting their heads into the sand or oiling their guns’ (Robertson 1999:159). This was extremely relevant in the context of the state of emergency also declared in 1985 and followed by another in 1987. Meanwhile, the inspiration provided by St Antony’s led to the PCSA congregations at St George’s, Hillbrow and Mayfair Presbyterian to begin the process of integration.

By 1986, there was a feeling that St Antony’s had run its course and achieved its purpose, and in 1989, St Antony’s was engaging with issues relating to their future as a congregation – to maintain a small declining congregation, or branching out into existing congregations and making their impact there (Robertson 1999:169). The outcome of protracted reflection and negotiations was a decision to unite with St George’s and form a united Presbyterian–Congregational congregation, which happened on 01 April 1990:

In ‘Church’ terms there can hardly be a better outcome [from] the activism of the ‘80s. And outside the institutional church, St Antony’s activism continues from squatter camps to plush board rooms. (Robertson 1999:186)

Discussion

Shaped by a dominant theology of moderation, formed by a history of compromise, and manipulated by conflicting power struggles both within their own structures and in the nation of which they were a part, the English-speaking churches soon found themselves trapped within their own history. Some individuals within the churches saw a vision beyond captivity, and Christian groups outside of the ecclesial structures rebelled against an ever-encroaching state tyranny. The institutional churches were left to protest without being part of the forces of resistance. (Villa-Vicencio 1988:93)

In this context, the very identity of the PCSA was at stake in the contemporary political and ecclesiastical climate:

The PCSA is being divided on socio-political issues chiefly as a result of the direction taken by this Committee [Church and Nation, C&N]. We see a particular danger for the PCSA as the one predominantly white multi racial church in SA … But, while white hopes and fears are well heard in our Assembly, we think that our average commissioner, let alone average member, is not that well aware of black hurt and anger and that the PCSA is in danger of moving into the white laager on socio-political issues. One remedy is for PCSA whites who find the C&N (SA) Committee’s direction hard to accept, to ask questions of their black colleagues and to listen carefully and humbly. (PCSA 1983:20)

This was the crux of the issue, that white members had co-existed with black colleagues without ever listening with care and humility. Their lack of awareness was indicative of their lack of intimacy (complete openness) with black people. They accepted the status quo as the normal way of relating, even within the church context. They represented the church theology of the KD (Kairos Theologians 1985:9). It was:

Superficial and counter-productive because instead of engaging in an in-depth analysis of the signs of our times, it relies upon a few stock ideas derived from Christian tradition and then uncritically and repeatedly applies them to our situation … Any form of peace or reconciliation that allows the sin of injustice and oppression to continue is a false peace and counterfeit reconciliation.

This is consistent with the lower levels of Bloom’s taxonomy: remembering and understanding (Preville n.d., p. 7). White Christians had consigned their black colleagues to the same status as their domestic servants, who were invisible and unheard, and whom they often described as ‘part of the family’ without ever asking if they experienced being part of the family:

There we sit in the same Church while outside Christian policemen and soldiers are beating up and killing Christian children or torturing Christian prisoners to death while yet other Christians stand by and weakly plead for peace. (Kairos Theologians 1985:2)

With regard to state theology in the KD (Kairos Theologians 1985):

The State makes use of the concept of law and order to maintain the status quo which it depicts as ‘normal’. But this law is the unjust and discriminatory laws of apartheid and this order is the organised and institutionalised disorder of oppression. (p. 5)

Within the United Presbyterian Church in Southern Africa (UPCSA), the fault was partly because of the lack of a unitary and consistent policy on mission in the denomination, which led to a ‘them and us’ attitude rather than a unitary policy based on solidarity as an expression of mutual regard and striving for reconciliation.

Robertson (1999) offered this evaluation of the comparative merits of the North End and St Antony’s congregations:

North End was ahead of its time and sailed against the wind and tide. It held the possibility of being prophetic, In contrast, St Antony’s is behind the times and, unless it moves and grows fast, runs the risk of being pathetic! (p. 32)

This indicates that Robertson was aware of the constantly changing context in South Africa, which required a dynamic approach to congregational life.

Rev. Moses Boshomane offered a comprehensive evaluation of the worth of St Antony’s:

St Antony’s is a typical first century New Testament church in which all barriers – cultural, language nationality, sex, class, education – are transcended. Master and servant, rich and poor mix on equal terms without distinction. It is a missionary church, a pilgrimage church, a church on the move, a church for others. It is not concerned with itself, eg. expansion and beautification of its buildings. It is a church in which black and white, the outcast, the needy all find a place and feel at home. Their needs are met and they worship, praise, sing and make a joyful noise unto the Lord. (Robertson 1999:132)

This was a dynamic congregation based on the realisation of a historic vision in the 20th century. The early church vision was realised in the mission of St Antony’s.

Richard Welch commented, as a member of St Antony’s, that it provided a context:

[…I]n which one was helped to be the person one secretly longed to be and to act out one’s most secret and most positive impulses and longings for oneself and for the society. (Robertson 1999:187)

This is what was most lacking in the PCSA during the apartheid years. Welch articulated the existential possibilities of living a courageous authentic life arising out of the mutual support offered at St Antony’s on an individual level and for the benefit of the wider community.

In a letter to Ian Thomson on 28 September 1973, Robertson (1999), referring to white congregations, stated:

It’s rather shattering to discover how encapsulated they are in their individualism, nice homes and wishy-washy Christianity, and how they go on supporting an oppressive regime often without realising it and indeed imagining they are against it by voting Progressive [Federal Party] every five years. (p. 194)

A little later, in a comment to Neville Kretzmann (Robertson to Kretzmann, 30 October 1973 in Robertson 1999:194), Robertson reflected on the impact of capitalism:

[…T]he effect on the rich and capable is ultimately worse. They become artificial, greedy, individualistic; they lose a sense of community and are indifferent to or ignorant of the needs of the weak. They also have their own brand of perversions. According to our Lord it is not the poor but the rich who will have a hard time getting into the kingdom of God!. (Mk 10:17–22)

Support for the status quo was virtually subconscious or unconscious and indicated that Christian commitment was broad but with little depth of conviction except to maintain the political system. Eli Wiesel’s principle of neutrality had become a false alternative principle rather than direct opposition to apartheid:

We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere. When human lives are endangered, when human dignity is in jeopardy, national borders and sensitivities become irrelevant. Wherever men or women are persecuted because of their race, religion, or political views, that place must – at that moment – become the center of the universe. (Wiesel 1986:1)

This was consistent with Groome’s critique of traditional methods of education, which developed conservative thinkers and citizens who accepted the status quo and those who maintained and promoted it. Robertson wrote prophetically regarding the adoption of a neutral stance regarding apartheid:

The prospect may please us, but it is going to leave behind a ghastly situation needing healing and is important that there be people who have already learned to live beyond apartheid and to share resources, community, forgiveness and hope. Not only problems of race but also of riches and poverty will hit us hard when the ideology of forcible separation collapses. (Robertson to Kretzmann, 30 October 1973 in Robertson 1999:195)

Presbyterian North End and St Antony’s were not alone in attempting to pursue integrated congregations. Venter (1994) studied St Francis Xavier Roman Catholic Church, Martindale; Central Methodist Mission, Johannesburg; and the independent Johweto Vineyard, Soweto (Venter 1994).

Evaluation

There was a clear discrepancy between decisions made by courts of the PCSA and action at the local level. Robertson (1997) offered a credible explanation for this:

Race prejudice with which we had to deal, found it easy to operate in Sessions because their meetings are normally in private. To a lesser extent one also found it in Presbytery meetings, which are normally open to the public, but usually no outsiders bother to attend. It is not so easy to have racist attitudes at the Assembly, however, where the Press is often present. (p. 85)

This was an issue in the presentation of the public image of the PCSA: ‘[…] the Presbyterian Church discusses State policy and criticises it wholesale’ (Robertson 1997:135). The discussions held and decisions taken at Assembly offered a degree of anonymity, whereas the closer it came to the local context, the more difficult it became to avoid or evade responsibility for decisions taken, and this was clear from the history of North End (Robertson 1997:93–95).

While it might appear that North End was an island in the midst of a hostile environment, it was not cut off from the realities of the South African political scene:

[…P]reaching at North End forced one to face the context. Such a diverse group could not meet and worship without recognising the tensions in South African society. This brought the Biblical message to life. It was liberation theology long before the term became known in South Africa. (Robertson 1997:102)

This was not quite so, as Gustavo Gutierrez’s A Theology of Liberation was published in 1971 and was being taught in some institutions, such as the Federal Theological Seminary of Southern Africa (FedSem), along with black theology. Liberation theology was a praxis theology. This was also the period of the rise of black consciousness (Denis & Duncan 2011:82–96), but the point is well made in South Africa, for the ferment of resistance to apartheid was also evident in South African student politics and the emergence of Steve Biko, a major black consciousness protagonist in the struggle (Duncan 2008:130–133). Black PCSA ministers trained at FedSem were exposed to such teaching.

Added to this is the Presbyterian tendency, resulting from a negative legacy of pietism (Duncan 2003:387), to keep matters of faith to the private sphere of life. Regarding the personal faith of a Presbyterian:

Try to probe into his [sic] personal faith, and he will shut up tighter than any oyster, or speak with reluctance or even distress … inside there is an unexpected emotionalism and sensitivity. (McEwan 1961:103)

This resulted in a spirituality which is a do-it-yourself form of privatised faith expression (Leech 1994:82). When spirituality is regarded as nonpolitical or private, it also regards the subjects of spirituality as disembodied.

It is important to note that the spirit of independency was still alive and well in the PCSA following its birth in 1897. Prior to this, the supervision of congregations was impossible except where presbyteries existed:

For the greater part of the nineteenth century settler/colonial Presbyterians had forged their faith without the formal structures of Presbyterian polity, but the time had come to move from independency to interdependency consistent with the spirit of Presbyterianism. (Duncan 2022b:2:6)

Until this time, there were congregations and presbyteries, but these lacked the authority and mutuality derived from a denominational structure which is essential to Presbyterian polity. The ‘PCSA was actually a congregational, rather than a presbyterian, church that operated without a clear denominational approach to mission’ (Duncan 2022a:6). Furthermore, the paternalistic mission policy of the denomination was separated into black and white committees (Bax 1997:19–20), and when union with the Scottish mission was mooted in the early 20th century, Rev. D.V. Sikutshwa (1946) commented that:

[…A]t a time when the two sections of the population were at different stages of development – religiously, educationally and socially – it would have been quite inopportune to run European and African congregations exactly on the same lines; and the attempt to do so would have been disadvantageous to both sections of the population. (p. 4)

This comment was a fair assessment of the situation and reflected the fear of a singular form of development. Sikutshwa, however, need not have feared as they ‘with a very few limited exceptions [were] uni-racial’ (Bax 1997:19).

We have to consider the tensions of living in an apartheid society where the majority of white people were conservative and supported the apartheid government. Here we can see the potential for the impact of removing the dichotomy between faith and politics. Many white PCSA members would have believed that the church and politics should not mix and would have been unwilling to express themselves if they held views that were different from the majority:

There had long been a stream of thinking in the Protestant churches that had sought to disengage the Church from political issues, and this was particularly strong among English-speaking whites who have always been the majority in the PCSA. (Bax 1997:20)

The essential issue here is that such an approach is self-defeating. Groome (1980) indicates that all reflection, decision-making and acting are political:

Even if a religious community should set itself the task of confining its educational activity to the ‘spiritual’ in a narrow private sense, it is actually performing a political act, but it is the politics of silence of nonengagement. By what we reclaim from our past heritage or propose for our future, by what we ignore from our past and refuse for our future, Christian religious educators are being political. (p. 26)

Referring to the inherently conservative nature of Christian education, Groome (1980:29, note 15), drawing from both historical Protestant and Roman Catholic sources, highlights that ‘Christianity must be a criticism rather than a legitimation of oppressive social systems and cultural arrangements’.

Furthermore, the biblical injunction in Romans 13:1–2 had a powerful effect on conservatively minded congregations:

Every person must submit to the authorities in power, for all authority comes from God, and the existing authorities are instituted by him. It follows that anyone who rebels against authority is resisting a divine institution, and those who resist have themselves to thank for the punishment they will receive.

Such congregations made up the white constituency of the PCSA, which:

[…W]as well aware of the political, social and cultural milieu in which it was birthed and responded in a manner which was natural within the white paternalistic community. (Duncan 2022b:10)

The discrepancy between General Assembly decisions and congregational response may be further explained in terms of Presbyterian polity, which explains the role and responsibilities of commissioners attending courts of the church:

A meeting of commissioners is a deliberative body open to the give-and-take of discussion and to the free working of the Holy Spirit. Presbyters are to seek the will of Christ for the church and not be mirrors reflecting only the will of the people. They are finally responsible, not to the congregation, but to Christ for the decisions they make. (Gray & Tucker 1986:5–6)

While they are ‘representative’ of the bodies which commissioned them, they are free to exercise ‘liberty of opinion’ (Westminster Divines [1647]1969:23 [20.2]) as the result of participating in debates when they come to cast their votes. That is, they cannot be instructed how to vote by the members’ court of the denomination which commissioned them.

The Book of Order (PCSA 1960) affirms the role of conscience regarding obedience to the state:

Chapter 5. God alone is lord of the conscience … any attempt on the part of the State to constrain the religious belief of its subjects, or to impose on them forms of worship, is an invasion of the rights of conscience.

Chapter 7. the duty of subjects to be obedient for conscience’ sake does not forbid a people, when misgoverned or oppressed, to endeavour to change the laws or constitution of the realm, and, of necessary, to remove from office these rulers who have misused the authority with which they were invested. (PCSA 1960:140)

Therefore, voting against an apartheid policy at a distant General Assembly meeting is far more secure than expressing the same in the local congregation, which commissioned a person to ‘represent’ them with clear views about what ‘represent’ meant. Then again, there is the tendency to become caught up in the hysteria [a term used colloquially to mean ungovernable emotional excess and can refer to a temporary state of mind or emotion] of an exciting debate. The Presbyterians are well known to be great General Assembly debaters so it was possible to be carried along in the spirit of the discussions which might lead to a decision to vote based on the quality and emotionalism of the debate rather than one’s personal feelings or beliefs of those who appointed delegates to attend superior courts of the church.

However, the local congregation is less likely to understand a vote against apartheid policies than compliance with their views, for they are the products of essentially conservative churches:

Their social function is essentially a moderate and cautious one. Yet deep within their common memory lies a restlessness which disturbs their complacency and obliges them to recall a theological obligation to live justly, to show mercy and humbly to submit to the declared will of God made known in the scriptures. From within this memory emerges a will that requires the church to show a special concern for widows, orphans, those who are in distress, prisoners, the poor and the oppressed – the marginalised people in any society. It is this that has constituted a disturbing reality in even the most domesticated and self-satisfied churches in history, making for resistance amid conformity. The temptation was for both denominations, congregations and members to be ‘absorbed into the established order of White South Africa [of which they were constituent members and beneficiaries], offering little more than token protest against the violations of their most fundamental values’. (Villa-Vicencio 1988:46)

These experiments in integration took place against the wider background of ecumenical activity – the Christian Council of South Africa, the Christian Institute of South Africa, the SACC and the World Council of Churches Cottesloe Conference in 1960. The political background was the Sharpeville massacre, which also occurred in 1960, and the massacre of Soweto schoolchildren that happened later on 16 June 1976. This moved the SACC (of which the PCSA was a member) to issue A Theological Rationale and a Call to Prayer for the End to Unjust Rule with a Prayer Service for the End to Unjust Rule in 1985:

We have prayed for the government to change its policies. Now we pray for a change of government so that the justice of God’s kingdom may prevail and his people be liberated to live in peace. (SACC 1985:1)

Such a move was consistent with the teaching of scripture, early Church Fathers (Tertullian and Augustine), medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas, Reformers (Luther and Calvin), modern theologians (Kuyper and Barth) and Popes John XXIII, Paul VI and John Paul II. It constituted ‘The considered judgment of every synod, assembly and conference of the Roman Catholic and mainline Protestant Churches with the exception of the Afrikaans Reformed Churches’ (SACC 1985:2–3). There is no evidence that the PCSA at large was made aware of this and made no response to it. However, in 1983 it had already raised the issue of ‘Prayer for change in the authorities’ (PCSA 1983:28–29). The outcome was the promotion of the following prayer:

O Lord God, we come before you in humility recognizing that we have sinned against you by governing this land with laws that oppress and cause much harm and suffering to people. We have actively followed a system based on neither love nor justice. We have resorted to violence to maintain this system, and this in turn is leading to more violence. Forgive us for our folly. We pray that you will deliver us and bring change to our situation. If it is your will to remove from office those rulers who have misgoverned and oppressed and who have misused the authority with which they are invested, we ask for courage to do our part for this and wisdom to choose leaders who will obey your will, enact just laws and eradicate the evils and divisions that we have allowed to have dominion over us. ‘This we ask in the name of Jesus Christ’. (PCSA 1983:29)

The proposal was: ‘The Assembly draws the attention of ministers to section of the report and commends the use of the prayer in that section, or similar prayers, to public worship.’ This was rather innocuous and nothing substantial arose out of this. No responses were asked for from congregations, and none were recorded.

Conclusion

The lack of solidarity within the PCSA is evident throughout this article. There appeared to be a degree of unanimity at the level of the General Assembly regarding opposition to apartheid. However, the picture is far less clear and much more challenging at the congregational level. The integrated congregations discussed demonstrated a remarkable degree of liberty of opinion and freedom in the exercise of their views in action. They were reflective faith communities which enabled and empowered their members to grow and develop in their personal and communal faith. Their very existence demonstrated the discrepancies which existed between a privatised form of faith, which included neutrality, and an engaged spirituality, which was political in essence yet often simplistically so, as the discussion on what constitutes a legitimate authority demonstrated.

The race issue was ubiquitous and militated against any expression of solidarity. North End and St Antony’s went beyond the dichotomy through a challenging form of self-examination, individually and communally. In this, they were forerunners and promoters of Groome’s Christian shared praxis as they challenged long-held racial assumptions even within themselves and exposed their commitments through their involvement in both private and public life. This was especially true as revealed in the dichotomy between congregational and General Assembly responses to apartheid. The very existence of integrated congregations elevated concealed prejudices regarding race and politics to the surface and highlighted all racial tensions in South Africa. Distinctive Presbyterian distinctive issues were also discussed, such as the early history and polity of the PCSA. Throughout, it is noted that the activities of the integrated congregations prefigured and promoted Groome’s shared praxis approach, while the white congregations of the PCSA followed approaches which were determinative of maintaining the status quo.

De Gruchy (1983) clarified the wider implications of this, not only from a Reformed but from a Christian perspective:

To choose Jesus Christ implies rejecting apartheid; to choose apartheid means rejecting the implications of his gospel. The alternative is as stark as that, and the choice must be made. To choose Jesus Christ is a liberating step, and in this instance it frees both the Church and the Christian from the idolatry of racism and enables them to begin confessing him as Lord with new power. This confession must necessarily go beyond words, but it cannot be silent or hidden. It must be proclaimed from the housetops and demonstrated in the marketplace. (p. 75)

Acknowledgements

Competing interests

The author has declared that no competing interest exists.

Author’s contributions

G.D. is the sole author of this article.

Ethical considerations

This article followed all ethical standards for research without direct contact with human or animal subjects.

Funding information

This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial or not-for-profit sectors.

Data availability

Data sharing is not applicable to this article as no new data were created or analysed in this study.

Disclaimer

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any affiliated agency of the author.

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