Anglican Communion News Service

Archbishop of Canterbury's Sermon at Evensong on Tuesday 11 March 1997 at St George's Cathedral, Jerusalem

We, the Primates of the Anglican Communion, gather in the ancient city of Jerusalem for our bi-annual meeting and join with local people, politicians and diplomats to worship God in this place of prayer. Jerusalem means so much to the entire Christian family, as it does to two other historic faiths, Judaism and Islam. It is, as the Latin Patriarch Michel Sabbah has said, 'A city for two peoples and three faiths'.

Here in this great city which has endured many occupations, many bloody wars, many violent sieges, many devout and good people have echoed the Psalmists' cry: 'O Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. May they prosper who love you'. Indeed, the recurring theme of the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures is that Jerusalem will become a centre of peace. Micah's dream was of Jerusalem as a place of pilgrimage to which all peoples came with the god of justice arbitrating between the nations and swords beaten into ploughshares.

It is just a dream, we might say, but dreams have been potent vehicles for human longings and aspirations. Think of Martin Luther King's dream which caught the imagination and hearts of black and white Americans. He realised what was possible when a people caught a vision of their place in a united nation. We are all dreamers. We long to see the world a better place. Wherever we come from we wrestle with issues to do with poverty, inequality and unrest. We all long to see justice for the oppressed, peace where there is violence and life where death holds sway. W.B. Yeats' love poem captures the importance of dreaming when he writes:

'I would spread cloths under you feet:
But, I, being poor, have only my dreams:
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.'

The problem is that others have dreams too, and sometimes they are different from the ones we long for. The world prays for the peace of Jerusalem because we know that if it is possible here, it is possible anywhere. Sympathetic outsiders such as myself can hear the justified longings of the two peoples of this land. We are one with the people of Israel in their search for a lasting peace in the Middle East. The Jewish peoples have suffered enough in their long and terrible journey. They long to dismantle their weapons and to beat their 'swords into ploughshares'. They are a gifted and resourceful people and have much to contribute to the rest of the human family.

We are also one with the Palestinian people, also and ancient and proud people, whose journey too has been one of suffering. there can be no justice for one part of the human family without justice for another. I was struck to read the other day a poem by a young Palestinian. The last verse runs:

'Do you know what it's like to have the vision,
that one day we'll win back our land?
Until then we can just keep on praying,
and keep on saying you'll understand.'

It's a poem of great sadness direct from the heart. Entitled "The Wandering Palestinian", it is a young man's dream of a homeland in which he and his people may live at peace. As I read it, I realised how much I take for granted the sense of belonging and identification I find in being British and being part of a proud and confident nation. Can I deprive others of that right? Surely not.

But that conclusion leads directly back into the clash of dreams. In this small and historic stretch of land a powerful clash of dreams is taking place. They are not simply dreams of having a legitimate home; they go much deeper than that, reaching into the further recesses of the soul. As Palestinians and Jews know only too well, to move towards each other, to tread softly on each other's dreams is a costly business and fraught with danger. And religion complicates it further because religion and culture are often inseparable. We call this land 'The Holy Land' because it is the focus of deep religious feelings of peoples of three great faiths. Powerful voices with great influence in the world clash from afar as they seek to defend the position of their religious community. The sadness is that often inflammatory words are backed up with substantial financial support for extremist groups who murder innocent people and justify it in the name of religion. There can be no peace anywhere if violence is used to threaten and browbeat others. Jews and Palestinians, with the support of the world community, must defeat those minority groups on both sides for whom peace is only acceptable if their cause is victorious.

You see, when dreams collide, the only solution is an honourable compromise. But that equally means seeking to understand the longings and hopes of other peoples. We look on with anguish as new actions on either side appear to undermine the peace process. The current crisis with regard to new settlements in East Jerusalem is just one of these. Last November, leaders of the British Churches appealed for 'an end to the building and expansion of settlements, and a negotiated agreement on the future of existing settlements'. Actions and words must agree.

'O, pray for the peace of Jerusalem'. Indeed we do. But as we gather in Jerusalem from many different parts of the world, we do not come with ready-made answers. Jerusalem is a microcosm of issues and challenges that the Anglican Communion has to wrestle with - be it with Northern Ireland, Rwanda, Sudan, Burma and elsewhere. We give thanks to God that South Africa gives us a message of hope as we see what has been achieved without bloodshed and consummate political skill, and the prayers and co-operation of the many Churches and faiths in South Africa. Wherever in our world there is conflict, wherever cultures and creeds clash, Christians should be there at the heart of reconciliation.

But what contribution can we possibly make? The readings for this service speak of three great ministries we can offer - prayer, acceptance and vision. Prayer - because a living relationship is central to the Christian faith. Jesus taught us to call God 'ABBA' and therefore prayer is transformed to be a personal, living walk with God. But prayer is far more than personal, pious acts of devotion. Prayer is a struggle - with God and with ourselves; prayer will take us into action because, as Karl Rahner once said, 'actions may sometimes be prayer, but prayer too is action'.

I find it striking that in recent years where there has been political reconciliation the Church's ministry has been effective. I think of Eastern Germany where the Church's facility to be a refuge for freedom and a place of dialogue was instrumental in bringing East and West Germany together. I think too of South Africa and the ministry of many Christian leaders, especially Desmond Tutu. How glad we are to have with us his successor, Archbishop Ndungane, who also played an effective role in the long road to freedom and, indeed, suffered in prison along with Nelson Mandela.

We may be seduced into thinking from time to time that the world has no further use for the counsels of the Church. It is far from the truth. We carry a distinctive message, which is at its best a message of transformation.

The second ministry is that of acceptance. The reading from St Paul spoke of the fact that in Christ all divisions are done away. There is no 'Jew, Gentile, Slave or Freeborn, Male or Female. We are all one in Christ Jesus'. It has taken the Church a long time to realise this and to embody it in our life. We can, therefore, only proclaim this with the greatest humility because Christianity put up with slavery for too long; it put up with gross inequalities between men and women even longer.

The message of the faith transcends the poor, stumbling people that we are who are entrusted with the task of living and teaching it. Such a message will transform our way of looking at others - Jews, Palestinians, or whoever, when we really believe that they are made in the image and likeness of god and, therefore, are of infinite value to him.

Finally, we bring a vision and this takes us back to our dream. Dreams become visions when they are united with the God of surprises. He is the one to whom our hearts cling and vision enables us to rise above all the brokenness of life and the failure of human endeavour to see that 'all things are possible'. There are, of course, suffering people in this land who are crying out for hope. They desperately need to be loved and valued. the same is true of the places from where we have come: Rwanda, Burundi, Sri Lanka, Nigeria, Ireland, Great Britain and elsewhere. In every corner of our world people cry out with the pain of broken relationships, ruptured promises or trampled dreams. They need to know the love of God; they need to hear the Good News proclaimed; they need to see practical Christianity in action.

And this brings us full circle to Jerusalem. We, Primates of the Anglican Communion, come to this place where dreams collide to be renewed and re-invigorated for our task. We shall be reminded by our preparations leading up to Easter that dreams and longings can be dashed and disappointed. Our Lord himself longed for Jerusalem to embrace his love and he wept: 'O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how I longed to gather your children as a hen gathers her brood under her wings - but you would not'. Even God knows the feeling of being rejected. It is a reminder that the God of love whom we worship does not stand aloof from human misery but seeks to liberate and free those who are oppressed.

To that God, All-Compassionate and All-Knowing, be praise and glory, Now and Ever.