To live in defiance of Babylonian Beasts is a test of one’s faith

DURING my seminary years I learnt that the painting, The Light of the

World, was the work of a 19th century artist, William Holman Hunt. It was his allegorical illustration of the words of Jesus as found in The Book of Revelation, “I am standing at the door, knocking” and that of John 8 verse 12: “I am the light of the world”.

The emergence of the ideals of atheism espoused by the German philosopher, Karl Marx was one of the reasons why Hunt, a man of deep faith, did the painting. “The closed door,” he believed, “was the obstinately shut mind…”

However, the words of Revelation are specifically focused on the ancient, prosperous city of Laodicea located on a lucrative trade route in what is now modern Turkey. The response of the Laodicean Christians to the Roman emperor of their day, Domitian, a self-proclaimed god, had earned them the rebuke of the writer of Revelations who cited them as being “lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot…”

The Laodiceans had collaborated with the imperial cult. This enabled them to maintain their business and secure their wealth. The original biblical text, when referring to “I will come in to you and eat with you” uses the Greek word for the last meal of the day, before the night – representative of when God withholds his favour, a sign of his judgment – sets in.

Today a version of organised religion promises an easy route to riches. The devotees of prosperity cults, the new mark of the Babylonian Beast, are seduced by the sensational claims of its affluent proponents. When the fruits of abundance are not forthcoming it is attributed to the poor quality of faith of those who had rendered the contemporary equivalent of the widow’s mite into the coffers of high-flying pastors, the merchants of false promises.

The Church is at its best when it allows the poor Christ into its largesse of simplicity and when it knocks on the door of the heart and conscious of the people we are called to serve and love. And rebuke when required and confess our failures when we fall short of the standards we set for others.

In a certain period of our Struggle, members of the inter-church movement were alerted to a call from the underground: The mobilising slogan for 1982 was “Unity in Action”. As young Christians we attempted to integrate this message into our understanding of discipleship. Our faith found a challenging focus in October of that year when the SADF invaded Lesotho. South African and Basotho nationals were killed. The then Dean of St George’s Cathedral gave us permission to observe a 48-hour fast in the precincts of the cathedral. It would be a protest against the raid. Unfortunately, the Cape Times posted an article under the heading “ANC fast at the Cathedral”. We sought a meeting with Dean King to convince him of our faith-based intentions. He was “unavailable”.

At the last hour we found a priest, Father Robert de Maar, who readily opened the doors of The Church of the Good Shepherd, Kensington for our purpose. Two years later I served my curacy as deacon under his guiding hand. Today we will lay this solemn, dignified and warm-hearted man of God to rest today at St George the Martyr, Silvertown, his last placement before his formal retirement.

I asked Father Bob once how he was able to lead a biblical reflection without apparent preparation. “You have to love the Word”, was the soft reply of this man of few words. He lived in defiance of the Babylonian Beasts of his day, leading by example, hesitant and often inconsistent believers along the winding path of faith, when the Church was the Church.