Sermon preached by The Most Revd Njonkonkulu Ndungane, Archbishop-Emeritus of Cape Town, at the funeral of the Revd Rowan Smith, Saturday 2 June 2018

Posted on June 2, 2018 by Ruth Coggin

I greet you all in the strong name of our Lord Jesus Christ, who died and rose again to bring to us the eternal life that we celebrate today at this funeral of Rowan Quentin Smith. It is a great honour to have been invited by Rowanb s family to deliver the sermon at this special service today. It is also extremely humbling to pay tribute to a man so deeply loved and respected by so many. Reading through the hundreds of messages pasted on his Facebook page since his untimely death on 23 May, it is clear that this priest of the people was held in veneration by many. I am sure also that the family will have been overwhelmed this week by an outpouring of sympathy and condolences for this loss of Rowan.

The Revd Canon Rowan Smith

Today is, of course, one of sadness as we mourn a dearly loved brother. But, of course, a service such as this is an opportunity to celebrate his life; to remember the qualities for which he was held in such high esteem and affection. It is particularly poignant to lift our voices today in the singing of the hymns, some of which he had chosen for the 50th anniversary service of his ordination. This was due to take place this month. So, even though Rowan is no longer with us in his earthly body, we can be absolutely sure that his spirit is with us today as we remember this important milestone in his life.

A funeral service is always an occasion to remember the achievements of the life of the departed. Rowan was educated at Kensington High School, Cape Town. Subsequently, his education took him to Kingb s College, London, and St Boniface Missionary College, Warminster. He was ordained a in St Nicolasb Church, Matroosfontein in 1967, and as Priest in this beautiful cathedral in 1968 by Archbishop .

It was soon after his ordination that I first came into contact with Rowan while he was serving at the Church of the Resurrection in Bonteheuwel. I had been picking up the threads of my life shortly after my release from Robben Island and had become involved in work among young people in the Church. 1970 was the 100th anniversary of the Anglican Church in Southern Africa, and I was leader of a youth delegation which met Archbishop Selby Taylor to offer to host a reception for Synod delegates. It was a proposal warmly welcomed by Selby Taylor. Our next challenge as a group of fiery, inexperienced, and highly politicised young people was to find a venue b and so we turned to Rowan, the priest in charge of the Church of the Resurrection. This priest didnb t know this rabble of youngsters from Adam, but such was his gracious acceptance of his fellow human beings that he warmly agreed to our request for a venue and never once questioned whether we would be able to put such a big event together. In the end, the reception was a wonderful success, with the young people even commissioning a special centenary song composed by B ka Tyamzashe from Bisho. All the delegates attending the synod came to that reception at which Selby Taylor welcomed everyone in isiXhosa with the words, b Ndiyanibulisa bantwana bamb , meaning b I greet you all, my childrenb . Itb s important to remember that this reception took place during the height of the apartheid era, when black, white and socalled coloured people were forcibly separated and therefore had very little, if any, normal contact with each other. The openness with which both Selby Taylor as Archbishop and Rowan Smith as hosting priest greeted these political hotheads speaks volumes for their vision of a Church grounded in the love of Jesus Christ our Lord. This reception, coming so early in the priestly ministry of Rowan Smith, was a foretaste of the kind of ministry that he was to exercise so tellingly in future years.

During the decade from 1977, Rowan was first a novitiate and later a professed member of the Mirfield Community of the Resurrection. For a period, he was Chaplain to St Martinb s School, Johannesburg, where he was influential in the spiritual formation of hundreds of young people. This was a time when much of his priestly and catholic formation would have taken place. His habit of saying daily Office would have been confirmed, and his devotion to a life of prayer strengthened. Indeed, I heard someone say this week that Rowanb s knees were particularly hardened as a result of all the time he spent kneeling on them in prayer! He was also a prolific reader, keeping up-to-date with new literature and thinking in the world of theology.

My next encounter with Rowan was when he was Chaplain to Archbishop Desmond. As a fellow member of staff at Bishopscourt, I was privileged to witness the strong spiritual team that he and Father Francis Cull formed with Archbishop Desmond. At a time of immense pressure and difficulty for the Church and those who opposed apartheid, Bishopscourt became a spiritual powerhouse. Their prayerful leadership was a shining light during the dark days of apartheid, and their courageous witness against the heresy of apartheid played no small part in bringing about the demise of this evil.

During this period, I was sent on Sabbatical to the USA, and Rowan was appointed Acting Provincial Executive Officer in my place. On my return, when I was elected Bishop of Kimberley and Kuruman, Rowan was confirmed as PEO by Archbishop Desmond. This was a time when we had put a lot of preparation into the upcoming Provincial Synod in Swaziland in 1992 in terms of logistics and agenda. In his characteristic fashion, Rowan was never too proud to acknowledge the work that had been done by others, and frequently asked me to work alongside him in putting that Synod together. And what a watershed moment for our Church did that Swaziland synod prove to be, as we finally approved the Ordination of women. Rowanb s efforts in arranging a smooth event played no small part in this huge moment in our Churchb s life.

One of the first tasks as Archbishop was the appointment of a . After due process and discernment, I appointed Rowan. Rowanb s appointment as Dean of this Cathedral catapulted him on to a very public platform. As leader of this sanctuary, his commitment to the vulnerable and marginalised of our society and his concern for people was legendary and made him an icon in the Western Cape and elsewhere in the country b so much so that his portrait hangs in the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg. As Dean, he became a very special person to me, for he was the one who took my hand during my enthronement service and led me to the throne of the Archbishop. I remember this moment, performed by this gentle and kindly priest, with deep emotion. What a wonderful way to welcome me to the service of the Anglican people in Southern Africa as their Archbishop.

In particular, he occupies a special place in the hearts of LGBTQIA (which stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bi-Sexual, Transgender, Questioning, Intersexual, and Asexual) people, and those of us who hold this community dear, for his implacable support of their right to be recognised as loved and accepted members of the Church of Christ. Indeed, it is an issue that was very close to his heart and about which he felt very strongly. For that reason, I have chosen to focus attention on this issue in this sermon, as a way of paying tribute to the person that he was. Together with many of us, Rowan would confess that one of the greatest failings of our Church is that, despite years and years of debate and dialogue, it has not been able to find a position of full acceptance of Anglican people who are LGBTQIA. As far back as the Lambeth Conference of 1998, the Anglican Church came close to finding a consensus on human sexuality in the section dealing with this subject. Despite keen differences in our discussion in sections whose members were drawn from extreme conservative to radical liberal in their opinions. Nevertheless, we were able to find each other in consensus, and went back to the plenary with our recommendations. But that was the end of the progress we made on human sexuality.

Very little has changed since then, with regular threats of schisms in the Anglican Communion over the gay and lesbian issue. In my last Provincial Synod over which I presided as Archbishop, I addressed the view held by a number of black Anglicans b and no doubt still held by many b that gay and lesbian matters affect only white people. To dispel this view, I invited a black gay person and a black lesbian person, as well as a black mother of a lesbian daughter to the synod. Many eyes were opened by their testimonies during the Conference of Synod, which was chaired by Joan Church, then from the Diocese of Pretoria. Even the most homophobic among delegates did 180 degree turns on the subject.

The fact remains that today, we are a Church in which our Communion has excluded a huge part of itself in certain matters. The blessing of same sex marriages remains an unresolved issue. But why? Why canb t we deal with this issue and get around our rubrics by talking about covenanted partnerships or similar? These matters are real in the world, and our failure to recognise them means that our Christian humanity is suffering.

We bless everything in Church. We bless buildings. Why not same-sex marriage? If one of our priests goes to a meal in a home of a same sex couple who attend his or her Church, does it not mean that he or she is addressing their relationship by doing that? Of course it does! We would not refuse to administer the sacrament of baptism to the child of a gay couple. But we wonb t bless their union.

I have no doubt that Rowan, the priest of the people, would rejoice with us to see a recognition by the Anglican Church and others in accepting the full human-ness of gay and lesbian people in a new, truly rainbow, Church.

Franciscan priest, Richard Rohr, has written profoundly about sexuality and the acceptance of people of different and changing sexuality. In one of his meditations, he says: b If we donb t recognise the sacred at the deep level of gender identity and sexual desire, I donb t know if we will be able to see it anywhere else. When Christians label LGBTQIA individuals as inherently sinful or disordered, we hurt these precious people and limit ourselves. Fear of difference creates a very constricted, exclusive, and small religion and lifeb the very opposite of the abundance into which God invites us.b

It is in this context, then, that I ask for strong and courageous leadership from our Church b the kind of leadership that we saw in the dark days of apartheid b on the questions relating to sexuality and acceptance of LGBTQIA people in all its fullness and consequences.

As I draw this sermon to a conclusion, I want to remind you of the words of our reading from Thessalonians and in particular the opening sentences: b Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of humankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.b

In her commentary on this passage, Amy Peeler says that Paul is writing to a congregation of Gentile converts not long after he introduced them to the faith, and is clarifying his teachings on a few points. These include issues of eschatology, or what happens at the end of life and at the end of time. Unlike others around them, Paul says, the Thessalonians should not be grieving deaths in their community without hope. If this life is all one has, its end in death produces considerable grief. Not so for followers of Jesus, Paul tells them. This is not to say that any grieving is inappropriate, for Jesus himself provided the example of doing so. Nevertheless, that grief should not have the final word, for Christb s resurrection gives us hope.

It is on this note of hope that I wish to end this sermon. As Christians, we are a community that lives in hope of ever-new rainbows. It matters not whether we are grieving for our departed friend, brother and priest, Rowan Smith, or whether we are hurting as marginalised people in gay and lesbian communities: We have as our hope that we are grounded in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ our Saviour and Lord. We are a people of hope because of Easter.

We are a people of hope because of Pentecost.

We are a people of hope because we overcame apartheid.

We are a people of hope because we will overcome prejudice against gay and lesbian people.

We are a people of hope because we know that we will be reunited with our loved ones, including our beloved brother Rowan.

As people of hope, let us go forward to bring Christb s hope to our world.

Amen.