Achan was a young man with a large family and plenty of belongings. He had a tent for his family and fields full of cattle, sheep and donkeys. He fought with the army, made up of most of the men in the tribes, and he was there when the walls of Jericho fell. As he walked through the ruins of the great city, he remembered the words of Joshua, their Leader: “God says do not take anything from the city.” But when he saw the glint of silver and gold from under a stone, he couldn’t resist having a quick look. Wrapped in beautiful embroidered robe were many silver coins and a heavy bar of gold. In a split second Achan thought of all he could do with such riches-wow! As he picked up the bundle and imagined his wife dressed in the robe, he almost forgot Joshua’s word…but only almost. A few weeks later Joshua led the people of Israel in their shock and horror. After years of being the best army anywhere and generations of winning every fight and battle, they had lost! It was too unbelievable; it was embarrassing, it was so uncool! Joshua called out to God. “Why are we here? Have we won all these battles and walked for so many years to die in this awful place? Where were you in the battle, God?
The People were lost for words. They had planned to win the fight and take over the of Ai without any trouble- God had never let them fail before. But it soon came to light that someone had disobeyed God, and as a result his people had not won. Achan kept hearing Joshua’s words; “God says do not take anything from the city’, and deep inside he knew that it was all his fault.
God guided Joshua to find the guilty one. Joshua listened to God as each tribe in turn was brought before him, and the tribe of Judah, Achan’s tribe was chosen. Then the many clans in the tribe stood before Joshua and Achan’s clan, Zerah, was picked out.
Achan stood amongst his family and friends, knowing that there nothing he could do to escape. It was almost as if a big arrow was in the sky, pointing down at him! He done wrong, hoping that he could hide the stolen things from everyone including God. His heart was thumping, and he went red as his family was pointed out to, and then Joshua said his name. Achan stepped forward; he knew there was no way out now. ‘I took some gold and silver, and beautiful robe!’ he said. ‘I saw it, and I really wanted it.’ The stolen treasure was brought from Achan’s tent and given to Joshua, who told Achan that he must face the punishment for letting down and failing God so badly-he would be put to death.
Lessons from Achan’s Behave
Achan was driven by greed. He had plenty but he wanted more. We have many Achan’s in South Africa who have plenty but are driven by greed and become corrupt. We should ask God to give us what we need and the joy to be content.
Achan disobeyed God. As a result, the whole Nation of Israel suffered. Because of Achan’s of our time South Africa continues to suffer due to corruption and greed. We need to follow the rule of law and to obey so that prosperity can come to all who live in South Africa not just a few.
Achan did not own up. Hence today we have the Zondo commission people being forced to own up and take responsibility and to face consequences. However, the biggest consequences have been the suffering masses of South Africa. Unemployment continues because people stole through over inflated invoices and poor service delivery. The story of Eskom, Prasa, Durban Waste Mangement.
Achan’s example shows how an individual or individuals can lead a nation into disaster and bring untold suffering.
We need more Joshua’s in South Africa. People we are accountable to God and to South Africans. Being Honest individuals brings prosperity to all. Achan brought disaster not only to his family but the whole Nation of Israel.
Fr. Barnabas Nqindi
Parish Rector

Just imagine. Sunday after Sunday going to church yet only getting to celebrate the Eucharist once or twice a year. Or sitting with something weighing on your conscience and longing to hear the words of absolution - but there is no priest available for the next few months. Just imagine you are sick or dying and want to be anointed but can’t be. Isn’t the comfort and power of the sacraments at the very heart of what it means to be Catholic? Of course, our faith has many dimensions, but the sacraments sustain us in our mission to spread the Good News.
The people of the Amazonian region don’t have to imagine. For many of them, this is and looks set to remain their reality. Distances are vast and there are few vocations. This week the Pope’s much anticipated post-synodal apostolic exhortation on the Amazon Synod held 6-27 October 2019, entitled Querida Amazonia (“Beloved Amazon”), was released. This is the letter that traditionally follows a synod and the document released by the Synod. There was hope that some of the recommendations of the Synod document would usher in change so that the people of the Amazon (and in time potentially other places too) would have regular access to the sacraments.
Despite the fact that the possibility of ordaining suitably trained married men as priests (so-called “viri probati”) was voted in favour of by two-thirds of those with voting rights, Pope Francis has not made changes to allow for this - even as an experiment limited to the Amazon. Women run 70 per cent of parishes in that region. If they were ordained to the diaconate, they could witness marriages, conduct funeral services, baptise and preach. It seems clear, however, that they will not be ordained to the diaconate anytime soon. Many women are, in reality, already doing many of these things without the grace of the Sacrament of Orders.
The issues of allowing married priests and the ordination of women to the diaconate are ones on which we as Catholics, sadly, have starkly divergent views. In recent days conservative groups have been extremely vocal about maintaining mandatory celibacy for priests. Pope Francis may feel that he cannot move on these issues and still preserve the unity of the church.
The Pope may, understandably, be trying to keep the focus firmly on the key issue of environmental concerns and protection of the Amazon, not wanting these critical issues to be overshadowed by other “hot-button” issues. Nonetheless, the fact that these other issues have become focal in the Catholic media shows their profound impact on people. They will not go away.
Lay leadership must be developed and encouraged but, ultimately, only ordination allows one to confer the sacraments. There are committed married men and women who feel called by God to minister sacramentally. People are longing to encounter Christ regularly in the sacraments, but there are not enough ordained priests to minister to them.
Should their longing for Christ not be our sole focus?
Follow Annemarie Paulin-Campbell on Twitter @annemariepc_c Follow The Jesuit Institute on Twitter @JesuitInstitutelick here to edit.

​We acknowledge with sorrow that “many young people today live in war zones and experience violence in countless different forms: trafficking, slavery and sexual exploitation, wartime rape and so forth. Other young people, because of their faith, struggle to find their place in society and endure various kinds of persecution, even murder. Many young people, whether by force or lack of alternatives, live by committing crimes and acts of violence: child soldiers, armed criminal gangs, drug trafficking, terrorism, and so on. This violence destroys many young lives. Abuse and addiction, together with violence and wrongdoing, are some of the reasons that send young people to prison, with a higher incidence in certain ethnic and social groups”.
Many young people are taken in by ideologies, used and exploited as cannon fodder or a strike force to destroy, terrify or ridicule others. Worse yet, many of them end up as individualists, hostile and distrustful of others; in this way, they become an easy target for the brutal and destructive strategies of political groups or economic powers.
“Even more numerous in the world are young people who suffer forms of marginalization and social exclusion for religious, ethnic or economic reasons. Let us not forget the difficult situation of adolescents and young people who become pregnant, the scourge of abortion, the spread of HIV, various forms of addiction (drugs, gambling, pornography and so forth), and the plight of street children without homes, families or economic resources”. In the case of women, these situations are doubly painful and difficult.
As a Church, may we never fail to weep before these tragedies of our young. May we never become inured to them, for, anyone incapable of tears cannot be a mother. We want to weep so that society itself can be more of a mother, so that in place of killing it can learn to give birth, to become a promise of life. We weep when we think of all those young people who have already lost their lives due to poverty and violence, and we ask society to learn to be a caring mother. None of this pain goes away: it stays with us, because the harsh reality can no longer be concealed. The worst thing we can do is adopt that worldly spirit whose solution is simply to anaesthetize young people with other messages, with other distractions, with trivial pursuits.
Perhaps “those of us who have a reasonable comfortable life don’t know how to weep. Some realities in life are only seen with eyes cleansed by tears. I would like each of you to ask yourself this question: Can I weep? Can I weep when I see a child who is starving, on drugs or on the street, homeless, abandoned, mistreated or exploited as a slave by society? Or is my weeping only the self-centred whining of those who cry because they want something else?” Try to learn to weep for all those young people less fortunate than yourselves. Weeping is also an expression of mercy and compassion. If tears do not come, ask the Lord to give you the grace to weep for the sufferings of others. Once you can weep, then you will be able to help others from the heart.
Pope Francis
Christus Vivit, 72-76
Father grant me the gift of tears. Change my heart from one of stone to flesh. Give me the grace to see the pain of young people and offer them the comfort of my understanding and love. Help our leaders to combat the scourge of human trafficking and all forms of marginalization and indifference in the face of suffering so that we can live in communities that serve all humanity. Amen.

We cannot just say that young people are the future of our world. They are its present; even now, they are helping to enrich it. Young people are no longer children. They are at a time of life when they begin to assume a number of responsibilities, sharing alongside adults in the growth of the family, society and the Church. Yet the times are changing, leading us to ask: What are today’s young people really like? What is going on in their lives?
The Synod recognised that the members of the Church do not always take the approach of Jesus. Rather than listening to young people attentively, “all too often, there is a tendency to provide pre-packaged answers and ready-made solutions, without allowing their real questions to emerge and facing the challenges they pose”. Yet once the Church sets aside narrow preconceptions and listens carefully to the young, this empathy enriches her, for “it allows young people to make their own contribution to the community, helping it to appreciate new sensitivities and to consider new questions”.
We adults can often be tempted to list all the problems and failings of today’s young people. Perhaps some will find it praiseworthy that we seem so expert in discerning difficulties and dangers. But what would be the result of such an attitude? Greater distance, less closeness, less mutual assistance.
Anyone called to be a parent, pastor or guide to young people must have the farsightedness to appreciate the little flame that continues to burn, the fragile reed that is shaken but not broken (cf. Is 42:3). The ability to discern pathways where others only see walls, to recognise potential where others see peril. That is how God the Father sees things; he knows how to cherish and nurture the seeds of goodness sown in the hearts of the young. Each young person’s heart should thus be considered “holy ground”, a bearer of seeds of divine life, before which we must “take off our shoes” in order to draw near and enter more deeply into the Mystery.
Pope Francis
Christus Vivit, 64-67
Father, give me the grace to encounter young people with respect, sensitivity and compassion. Help me to see You at work in them, and to share You with them. Grant me the grace to learn from them, and to see the world with the hope and optimism they do Amen.

At the core of me, and I suspect of you too, there is a battle raging.  It is a battle between the desire for revenge and the gospel call to mercy, the longing to see wrongdoers punished and the uneasy sense that Desmond Tutu’s warning is true: there is no future – for me, for you, for South Africa – without forgiveness.
 
Intellectually I can understand that the endgame of Apartheid produced no clear winners.  The Struggle played to a stalemate that led to a negotiated transition and, as a result, no Nuremberg Trials for the old regime’s death squads, torturers and generals.  The Truth & Reconciliation Commission that followed was the best alternative given the situation.  Yet it rankled to see the murderers of Steve Biko, Vuyusile Mini, Dulcie September, Rick Turner and Ruth First walk away scot-free.
 
I fully understand the revulsion that a century of hangings of mostly black prisoners in Pretoria Central can have on a society like ours.  Intellectually, I do believe that people can change, that the term Correctional Services is a genuine desire of our democracy and not Orwellian newspeak.  Yet I am enraged to see how so many brutal crimes go unpunished, and that ordinary citizens live in fear.
 
Yes, I understand mercy.  I understand forgiveness.  We have many examples of great sinners who became, like Augustine, saints.  I am drawn again and again to the figure of the reformed convict Valjean, in Victor Hugo’swonderful Christian parable of forgiveness Les Miserables, pursued by his chilling adversary the relentless, unforgiving policeman Javert.  I see the need to move from a society of institutional brutality to one that is forgiving.  And I know that 25 years of historical time is but a pinprick in eternity, and that a human rights-based democracy does not – cannot and should not – have the kind of draconian powers to stamp out violence.
 
But it’s difficult to maintain these beliefs when one sees that, 25 years on, it is still the little guy, the unimportant person, women and the poor, who suffer the most.  It’s difficult to believe in mercy and justice when our police services are under-resourced, often corrupt or just plain incompetent.  And it is double difficult when some of the oppressors were from the ranks of our liberators.  Are we surprised, then, when communities take matters into their own hands and revert to the dreadful tools of the past to reassert a semblance of control in their lives?  Or when, in a unequal society, there are those that horde and heap their wealth beyond excess as soon as they are given any opportunity – regardless of the compounding disorder that results in the process.
 
We must now draw together again so as to combat corruption and promote the common good over self-interest.  It is time to remind ourselves of the hope we all desire for our common future.
 
 
Reflection prepared by Anthony Egan SJ & Matthew Charlesworth SJ

At the core of me, and I suspect of you too, there is a battle raging.  It is a battle between the desire for revenge and the gospel call to mercy, the longing to see wrongdoers punished and the uneasy sense that Desmond Tutu’s warning is true: there is no future – for me, for you, for South Africa – without forgiveness.
 
Intellectually I can understand that the endgame of Apartheid produced no clear winners.  The Struggle played to a stalemate that led to a negotiated transition and, as a result, no Nuremberg Trials for the old regime’s death squads, torturers and generals.  The Truth & Reconciliation Commission that followed was the best alternative given the situation.  Yet it rankled to see the murderers of Steve Biko, Vuyusile Mini, Dulcie September, Rick Turner and Ruth First walk away scot-free.
 
I fully understand the revulsion that a century of hangings of mostly black prisoners in Pretoria Central can have on a society like ours.  Intellectually, I do believe that people can change, that the term Correctional Services is a genuine desire of our democracy and not Orwellian newspeak.  Yet I am enraged to see how so many brutal crimes go unpunished, and that ordinary citizens live in fear.
 
Yes, I understand mercy.  I understand forgiveness.  We have many examples of great sinners who became, like Augustine, saints.  I am drawn again and again to the figure of the reformed convict Valjean, in Victor Hugo’swonderful Christian parable of forgiveness Les Miserables, pursued by his chilling adversary the relentless, unforgiving policeman Javert.  I see the need to move from a society of institutional brutality to one that is forgiving.  And I know that 25 years of historical time is but a pinprick in eternity, and that a human rights-based democracy does not – cannot and should not – have the kind of draconian powers to stamp out violence.
 
But it’s difficult to maintain these beliefs when one sees that, 25 years on, it is still the little guy, the unimportant person, women and the poor, who suffer the most.  It’s difficult to believe in mercy and justice when our police services are under-resourced, often corrupt or just plain incompetent.  And it is double difficult when some of the oppressors were from the ranks of our liberators.  Are we surprised, then, when communities take matters into their own hands and revert to the dreadful tools of the past to reassert a semblance of control in their lives?  Or when, in a unequal society, there are those that horde and heap their wealth beyond excess as soon as they are given any opportunity – regardless of the compounding disorder that results in the process.
 
We must now draw together again so as to combat corruption and promote the common good over self-interest.  It is time to remind ourselves of the hope we all desire for our common future.
 
 
Reflection prepared by Anthony Egan SJ & Matthew Charlesworth SJ

Though little is known about Saint Joseph, and still less extrapolated, there is something profoundly important in our remembering him: he is the quiet figure standing in the background of salvation history, one whose greatest role is simply being there.
 
He is there for Mary, an honourable man who refuses to abandon her to certain disgrace and possible death when she is found to be pregnant and unmarried.  He is there at Jesus’ birth and leads the Holy Family into exile in Egypt.  He is there when Jesus makes his premature debut as a public intellectual at twelve in the Temple.  And, just as the canonical gospels tell us no more of Jesus’ childhood and youth, sweeping us into his public ministry, Joseph disappears from the picture.  From what we know of him, loyal and protective that he is, we can be certain that he does not abandon Mary and Jesus, but dies.  In an age of widespread marital disarray, divorce, and single parent families, his example of fidelity is a challenge to all parents.
 
In another sense, he is also a model of the anonymous disciple, the follower who never gains, let alone claims, the limelight.  He is everyone who does his or her job without making the 8pm news.
 
Both before and after 1994, we saw him in the millions of South Africans who tried to live a normal life in situations varying from hardship to chaos.  He – and more often that not ‘Joseph’ was also she – battled to earn a living and offer a semblance of ordinary family life.  Before 1994 s/he was often misunderstood as a ‘collaborator’ for not being on the barricades of at the negotiations tables in Kempton Park.  After 1994, where millions of ‘Josephs’ queued for hours to vote in the Election, s/he was once more relegated to the shadows of ‘normality’ as politicians strutted their stuff in parliament, where ‘experts’ pontificated in front of cameras and in board rooms and factories where the new and old elites divided up the spoils of victory.
 
Will ‘Joseph’ vote in 2019?  Or will s/he decide that a day’s paid leave offers more important things to do than once again elect the same celebrities who have to a large degree not made much difference to Joseph’s life.  ‘Joseph’, if you’re reading this, please vote: just as your role model never gave up on Mary and Jesus, don’t give up on our democracy.
 
 
Reflection prepared by Anthony Egan SJ & Matthew Charlesworth SJ
 

Equality
 
Equality means equal concern and respect across difference. It does
not pre-suppose the elimination or suppression of difference....
but an acknowledgment and acceptance of difference.
~ Albie Sachs, retired Justice of the South African Constitutional
 Court ~

For those of over-pious disposition, or who imagine that only their religious tradition will be ‘saved’, Jesus’ words about separating the sheep from the goats on Judgement Day (Matthew 25:31-46) must come as a shock. We are not saved primarily by our belief in the ‘right’ god (indeed in any deity), nor by our strict adherence to correct doctrine, or moral teaching, but by how we treat those who are marginalised. Theologies that speak of justice – Catholic Social Thought, the Protestant Social Gospel, Liberation, Black and Feminist theologies, and the justice traditions in all great faiths – bear witness to this as well, sometimes from the heart and sometimes from the prophetic margins of faith.
 
In South Africa these last twenty-five years the Constitutional Court has also stood out, a beacon on Johannesburg’s Constitution Hill, as a secular defence of values, often in the face of resistance from those who would deny the rights of the marginalised. For the most part the Court has resisted the temptation to easy solutions that benefit the powerful or to the popular judgments that pander to unreflective prejudices of majorities, but tried instead to seek the common good. In a sense the Constitution and Bill of Rights are our secular Sermon on the Mount, calling us citizens to reflect on the degree to which the law and our practice protects everyone and takes special note of the needs of the marginalised. It is not a text that favours anyone – it certainly does not give any religion special favour. What it does seek to do is protect those marginalised from unnecessary harm – and where it might disadvantage some individuals’ interests or beliefs it does this out of a desire for a greater good.
 
At its best, the Constitutional Court has delivered judgments that defend the rights of the poor and protects society as a whole from arbitrary rule and laws defending sectoral interests. The fact that it has aroused the anger of the ruling party and many groups (including the churches) is a measure perhaps of its even-handedness and effectiveness. Despite attempts to politically influence it, mainly through appointment procedures, it has managed to remain fairly neutral – and its popularity is perhaps a measure of its success.