Apr 14 2009
What moved you to write Mirror to the Church?
First, writing Mirror was a way for me to work through the issues, from a personal point of view, given my own biography. Secondly, I was concerned by how easily and quickly the Christian world—in the West, but in Africa, too—was forgetting 1994. It is as if we all desperately wanted to move on, to carry on as usual—like what happened in Rwanda was just a tragic accident in this small country in Africa, but thank God that is past, we can now go on with our theology, our missions, our usual way of being Church. I see all this new interest for mission in Rwanda, all these new initiatives that do not seem to have learnt anything from the past. 1994, I wanted to say, is a watershed event. Let's not move on too quickly. Let's take time to learn from it, to look at it as in a mirror and see what it says about our usual ways of being church.
In your background and in your professional life, you seem to bridge different worlds. Your mother was a Hutu and your father was a Tutsi. You are from Uganda. As a Catholic priest, you have served parishes in Africa, Belgium and the United States. You are now an associate professor in the Divinity School at Duke University and serve as the co-director of the school’s Center for Reconciliation. Do you see yourself as a bridge builder, and how did this multi-cultural perspective influence the writing of this book?
We become Rwandan or Ugandan through the stories we grow up hearing and thus shape our lives. In this case, you can say I am “Ugandan.” Born and raised in Uganda, I grew up on stories of what it means to be a Ugandan. That is really the point I wanted to make about the Hutu-Tutsi identities. These are not “fixed” or “natural” identities.
Yes, my life is the intersections of so many stories—born of parents from Rwanda, Hutu, Tutsi; born and raised in Uganda, now living in the U.S.; a Catholic at a Methodist seminary. Yes, living at the intersection of so many stories raises the question of “Who am I?” For those of you who want to think about identity as a “natural” and “fixed” reality, try to figure me out!
But, living at the intersection of these many stories, trying to make sense of them, moving between their different worlds has given me a deep appreciation of what it means to be a pilgrim. As I negotiate these many stories, I hope to not only be a bridge builder. I hope I can also invite others to the truth of our true identity, and to a journey of our one and only true homeland. In writing Mirror, I hoped to share some of the skills I have learnt of how to negotiate this journey as we live in nations and cultures that seem to claim our identities and loyalties, by denying the truth of the Gospel.
I confess that before I read your book I did not realize that both the Tutsis and Hutus are predominantly Christian tribes. This seems to be a common point of ignorance among Christians in the West. Why do you think this is the case?
Because the notion of “tribe” is so engrained in the way the West thinks of Africa, and every time one thinks about “tribe” they think about a distinctive community, speaking its own language, with its customs, its own tribal chief, its history, its way of life. That is misleading. Hutu and Tutsi are not tribes in this sense. The West must learn to think and talk about Africa in a different way. This is so hard. But to the extent that the West is not able to unlearn old patterns of thinking, they remain ignorant of what is actually happening in Africa. In the same way, it is so difficult for the West—maybe I should say, some Christians in the West—to think about Christianity and Christians as violent. We always want to think that only non-Christians are agents of violence! No, Rwanda was a predominantly Christian country—and a very violent country, as 1994 shows—and it is a mirror! Only by acknowledging Christian violence can we begin a journey of lament, forgiveness and healing that can promise a new future. Otherwise we are stuck in a history of violent self-righteousness. Thus the challenge: How do you learn to think differently about Africa and about Christianity?
Violence rivaling the scale and brutality of the Rwandan genocide persists in countries like Sudan and the Democratic Republic of Congo. What lessons should Western Christians learn from Rwanda in determining the appropriate response to this kind of mass violence and terror? What should we ask our government to do?
I am not so much concerned about “mass violence and terror” as about everyday forms of violence that make us immune to the realities of violence that surround us. Instead of always imagining violence as “out there,” let us begin where you live. Are there Africans in your community? African Americans? Strangers? How have you reached out to them? How have you welcomed them and made them part of your church and social communities? Do you know any Muslims? Have you made any attempts to get to know any? I am sure there are some in your community. I think these engagements on the local level—this everyday politics of good neighborliness and friendships across the divides—can do so much to advance world peace more than treaties and whole scale strategies on behalf of the “Middle East.” In the book, I talk about the difference between tactics and strategies. I really believe that God has given us a vision and call for the peace of the world. Much of that vision and mission is about tactics.
