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\u201cThe oppressed, instead of striving for liberation, tend themselves to become oppressors.\u201d[1]<\/a> I find truth in that Paulo Freire\u2019s quote from my own life. Long ago, being picked on in school easily led me to be the offender rather than on the receiving side. One might conclude there are only two places to reside \u2013 the oppressed or the oppressor. A notable exception of the above principle is found on a national scale in post-apartheid South Africa. Both Nelson Mandela in \u201cA Long Walk Toward Freedom<\/em>\u201d and Bishop Desmond Tutu in \u201cNo Future Without Forgiveness<\/em>\u201d detail in autobiographical fashion the revolutionary path from a nation darkly divided along racial lines to a bright future as a nation united and reconciled. Both men relate the profound choice not to seek, at best, justice and, at worst, vengeance against systemic racism and abuse rivaling any other version of it. There exists a challenging third option to resolve abuses.<\/p>\n Since Bishop Tutu served as a member of the clergy, I will focus my reflection on his work and its relevance to my role as a pastor. My first significant impression comes from theology applied to real, hard life. The ability to work through the abuses of apartheid while pursuing the vision of a future not yet realized startled me in the reading. I remember the occasional news story about protests in South Africa in the 1980s. I even heard first-hand accounts of life there during apartheid from my wife who was born and raised in the outskirts of Johannesburg. Unlike the general news reports of protests, the specific acts of apartheid sounded like they came from a camp named Auschwitz. Tutu relates the application of theological truth to the jagged edges of dehumanization to achieve a united future that inspires hope in the most hopeless situations. Tutu states, \u201cAs I grow older I am pleasantly surprised at how relevant theology has become in my perception.\u201d[2]<\/a> As he sought to understand the reluctance of perpetrators of apartheid abuse to take responsibility for their offenses, the ancient story of Adam and Eve evading their guilt served as a source of comprehension. When people wanted to cast abusers as monsters, Tutu\u2019s theology argued against it. \u201cTheology reminded me that, however diabolical the act, it did not turn the perpetrator into a demon . We had to distinguish between the deed and the perpetrator, between the sinner and the sin.\u201d[3]<\/a> Tutu also drew from theology an inclusion that sounds Augustinian in its understanding of total depravity as the human condition for all, not just some. He states, \u201c\u2026there is an awful depth of depravity to which we could all sink, that we possess an extraordinary capacity for evil.\u201d[4]<\/a> Could it be that theology lent the strength to see past horrific individual acts and steer the Truth and Reconciliation Commission toward confession and reconciliation rather than conviction and punishment? I believe so.<\/p>\n A second lasting impression comes from the power of confession. Under the offer of amnesty, many perpetrators detailed horrific atrocities committed during apartheid. One account portrayed a hostile crowd present at the meeting with law enforcement personnel who committed crimes from their position of authority. Hostility transformed after the honest confession and ownership of their actions, eliciting an ovation by the witnesses. James 5:16 directs people to \u201c\u2026confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed.\u201d (ESV) In my spiritual journey, the first part of the verse received emphasis, not the latter. Reading about the power of confession to bring healing to both sides of abuses brought a new emphasis to James\u2019 command. I\u2019ve understood the ability of confession to benefit the individual in counseling situations and twelve-step programs. When someone stands up and announces, \u201cHi, my name is _____, and I\u2019m an alcoholic\u201d and receives the reply, \u201cHi _____,\u201d acceptance after admission serves a vital function in the recovery process. However, the fear of being truly known as we are can lead us to shade the truth in avoidance or outright denial. The TRC created an environment in which the fears of telling the truth about oneself were gone.<\/p>\n As I reflected on the dynamics of confession and healing, I thought about the church. Long ago, I heard a statement that goes something like this: \u201cThe church is a hospital for the hurting, not a hotel for the holy.\u201d But is it? When people struggle with hurts, habits, or hang-ups and want to find freedom, do they think of the church first, or even at all? Some do but in the American culture, I would venture to say that most do not. Every church possesses a culture, whether by design or by default. Borrowing the title of Simon P. Walker, the undefended leader can establish a culture of honesty and acceptance. Leaders must \u201cgo first\u201d to set the boundaries for what is acceptable, even celebrated in any local church community. Will spiritual leaders possess the courage to tell the truth about themselves? That step can not only free the leader but the entire community. \u201cThe true leader must at some point or other convince her or his followers that she or he is in the whole business not for self-aggrandizement but for the sake of others.\u201d[5]<\/a><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n [1]<\/a> https:\/\/www.freire.org\/quotes-by-paulo-freire<\/a>, accessed August 30, 2022.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n [2]<\/a> Desmond Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness (New York: Doubleday, 1999), 82.<\/p>\n