Sermon: Build A Lent That Becomes A Life (Feb 22, 2015)

Building a Lent that Becomes a Life

The new season of Lent began this week, making me wonder what meaning and sense of urgency this renewed journey of Lent can bring to me and to us. Through most of its history, Christianity has inclined towards individual salvation programming. Every Protestant knows the famous formula for redemption: repent – convert – be saved. You may notice that concern for the rest of the community is barely considered in this formula.  

I was first introduced to spiritual life in the Protestant church when I was in my early twenties, after a mystical encounter with Jesus. At the time, I thought that my own spiritual breakthrough belonged solely to me and God, and that my unique revelations helped me gain a higher understanding of how God works with individuals. My questioning mind was stilled; all of these remarkable leaps of faith were enough for me. I’m done, I thought. I’ve reached the mountain top. I was finally satisfied, feeling relief and delight and joy. The programming of individual salvation, however subtle it may seem, is profoundly and fundamentally hard-wired in Christianity. It was only when I studied at theological school in Vancouver that my self-sufficiency was challenged. I learned that individual salvation is just a part of Christian spiritual tradition. I learned that the historical Jesus’ main concern was not focused on a narrow perception of individual salvation; his primary concern was the Kingdom of God. In today’s reading, the first chapter of Mark, we hear what Jesus’ first message was: “The Kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” 

Lent has been, for many people, a special period of time when we are encouraged to practice spiritual habits of self-denial. Giving up what we normally enjoy eating or drinking has long historical precedence; supporting a worthy charitable cause with the proceeds from the abstinence is a modern twist. It’s good to accept the invitation for a spiritually intentional time to engage with self-reflection, prayer and meditation, and abstinence. The ultimate purpose of these practices is self-awakening and inner transformation. There’s that word again - inner. I wonder how our intentional mindfulness can be expanded to use this time to promote and engage with ‘social’ transformation.

I grew up in the Roman Catholic Church in Korea. The ‘programming’, the spiritual teaching I received, particularly during Lent, was, as far as I remember, to sit and learn and meditate on “the suffering of the Christ Jesus, crucified on the cross.” That’s how I can sum up all my lessons of 20 years in the Roman Catholic church; my earliest faith education taught me to focus and meditate on Jesus. That’s all you do: meditate on His crucifixion. His suffering. His death. Then on Easter, we celebrate His resurrection. Such emphasis on looking up to Christ, as the Immaculate one, The Super-hero, The suffering Divine, does not help us to see and befriend the historical Jesus who was always in community; the community of friends and family - his disciples, the crowd, women, children, outcasts, his opponents. The historical Jesus, far from being singular, far from looking down, knew the ‘messiness of belonging.’ 

I ask us to imagine Lent, this intensive period of 6 weeks, as any other season in the Christian calendar: a holy invitation for us to learn how to be and build up the ‘body’ of Christ - the communal body of Christ. What was the most pronounced and pressing concern for Jesus, during his lifetime? Jesus had a greater picture than the impossible fasting in the desert – 40 days and 40 nights: His vision was of the radicality of God’s justice, which does not fit with the habits of a civilization that tries so hard to maintain normalcy and prefers practicality. His concern for the Covenantal community among and for God’s beloveds radically challenges any society which produces statuses and classes, in-groups and outcasts, the wealthy and the poor, the cosseted and the neglected.

On February 9, I went to a forum that was held at the University of Winnipeg: Inquiring Minds: Understanding the call for, role of, and limitations on an inquiry into missing and murdered indigenous women – including girls, the transgendered and the two-spirited. Why did I want to go there? What was I looking for and expecting? This may be a better question: “Why did I want to witness a part of history that’s incomplete, ongoing, unfinished?” 

There were two reasons: first, I think that the church’s apathy to the pressing concerns of our indigenous neighbours is a shameful thing. I wonder what generates this apathy, hesitance, lack of energy or interest. Second, I realize that taking part in this unsettling journey to understand the troubling and negative consequence of the colonizing past AND present helps me to listen deeply to myself – and to know my own marginalization and privilege. Recently someone challenged me by saying, “Do you think you are in the margins? You are middle class.” In my own working definition, the sense of marginalization is unique to each individual - it’s contextual –  it’s a question of where you find yourself on society’s continuum. Where do you get a comfortable sense of belonging and inclusion? Which groups? Which places? Since I learned about Canadian history, the colonizing legacy of residential schools and the ‘covenantal’ journey towards TRUE reconciliation, in theological school, I have wondered and asked myself how I am part of this unfinished, transformational journey as a new immigrant – a new settler. Am I a settler?

We don’t take this journey as our shared communal path just because of guilt; it comes from courage and genuine interest to learn how I and we should stand on this beautiful territory we share. This Treaty One land. Few immigrants enter Canada knowing the whole painful story and history of residential schools and the relations between the aboriginal and the settler communities. As an immigrant, as someone who is middle-class and a visible minority, what is my role and responsibility, what would be my own story-telling about this communal journey that asks us to carry the covenant – the treaty. 

The church, since its birth, has been called to be a covenantal community. In today’s reading, we hear about the rainbow hung on the clouds as a sign and covenant God has made between God and the whole human and non-human community. Jesus has made a beautiful covenant with us with the feast of bread and wine symbolizing his body and blood. As followers of Christ and God we are called to learn the quality and prominence of covenantal relationships and what they require of us. I was a little late when I entered the Hall, and it was the time when a chief greeted “all genders” and welcomed us, saying, “I am part of Treaty One. Welcome to Treaty One.” In her crying she said to her people, “This country was ours. Don’t forget that.” I looked around to see those who sat with me in the Hall. Among the big crowd, I seemed to be the only one who looked like me, an Asian, a new immigrant, who did not speak English as her mother tongue. Am I a settler, or are people like me simply too new  to be considered part of this history and dialogue?

Thinking about these questions, I feel confused, challenged, yet also invited. God has no individual boundary. God does not possess a territory. We speak of individual faith, but God doesn’t give us claims to stake out and possess - God GIVES the territory to all of us to share with deep respect. 13th-century German mystic Meister Eckhart said, God is not a being; God is the Ground of being, the Ground of all relations. Then what is our call, when God is the ground of all beings? Eckhart also challenges us: God does not exist - God INSISTS.

Find your way and practice that will help you meaningfully engage with the God who relates you to the community – the whole body and breath of Christ. Build a Lent that does not confine you to a very narrow programming of individual privation and salvation but that expands you to embody the hope and concerns of the community. Build a Lent that does not look up at the face and body of the crucified Jesus, but which gently invites us to look below where the eyes of the crucified Jesus rest - the body of the community; the body of each one of us. The body of the Other. The Body of all people, all genders, all creation who equally INSIST care, justice, covenantal relationship among all.  

Funeral Sermon: Studying the Sky (Feb 19, 2015)

Funeral sermon: Studying the Sky

Ha Na Park

I have two sons; one is eight years old and the other is four. Like most children, they’re quite imaginative. They see what adults often fail to see through their creative imagination. For example, my boys’ favourite thing to do on car rides is study the sky, finding spectacular scenes, which are always different and unique each time they look up. One day, they found a beaming ray of sunlight that cut open the clouds, and they shouted, “Mom, Dad, I just saw Heaven - I’m sure that’s Heaven over there!’ My family used to live on Vancouver Island, before we moved to Winnipeg last July. My older son liked to study the sky back then, too, and I noticed that he especially liked to see the clouds that ran as if they were a river running over the shoulders of the mountains. In the moist, chilly air of a Vancouver Island winter, mountain tops are often draped in the embrace of clouds. My son, seeing it, would say, “Mom, I just saw the stairs that lead up to heaven. I am sure that it is the staircase to Heaven!”

One of the gifts that children often share with us is that they make the unknown, the great mysteries of life and faith, known to us in a very simple, loving and appreciative way.

This week I tried to do the same ‘study’ as I prayed and prepared for our memorial service for Bob, just like my sons study the skies. I sat at my desk, prayed in silent meditation, opened the Bible, and read the passage we’ve just heard, “What does the Lord require of us? Do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with your God.” Then I picked up the bulletin our church administrator had left on my desk. I gave myself a moment’s pause. I was living through a very busy week, yet I didn’t want to rush through my reflective time. I gave myself time to wonder: how a person can be a holy mystery to me, and yet can tell me about life as an irreducible, precious treasure. How this person can teach me and us about how we all have in our being and becoming, in our growing, dying and living, a small seed of Heaven.

I imagine Heaven as a seed - a seed that keeps its being self-contained, that protects its core, its energy and essence, from outside attacks or threats, until it senses the signs of good nurture - the right soil, enough water, plenty of essential minerals. Only then will it carefully open to its surroundings and start its growth. I imagine that the seed of Heaven is something that has been given to us at birth and has been the most beautiful part of us through our life, yet it is so small and secret, so hidden in the depths of our being that it can be very elusive to us to notice, find, treasure, love and grow. Yet, it is so real and true, so solid, and foundational, it can bring about a kind of homesickness. We long for true belonging and loving home-coming to a safe and sacred place where we can be who we are called to be. The playfulness that we can find with this image of Heaven is that this seed of heaven is also like a marble that children like to play with. Children like to play with it, staring into its entrancing depths, but then the marble can easily fall from a child’s small hand. It rolls away, and is hidden in a small dark corner. It is elusive. Children think that they have lost it forever, but it’s really just waiting to be found again, patient in its corner.

This afternoon, we gather together for an hour not just to commemorate and recognize the end of N's life; we are here to honour and affirm the beauty and the strength of a life of a human being. As many faults and mistakes we make in our lives, we know that life itself is a marvel, and our souls possess an unquenchable dignity. As Bob was wonderfully and beautifully made by our God’s hands, now he returns to the embracing home of eternity. The love of Christ in our faith affirms that we are created in the beautiful image of Heaven, the dense cloud of God’s love, “in God’s image.” On Ash Wednesday, which was just yesterday in the Christian calendar, the congregation are called to reflect in a ritual, “Mortals, You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Dust. I imagine that the seed of Heaven may be the smallest, the least, the most elusive treasure we may find, like dust. The closest analogy to describe Heaven may be to speak of how small dust can be, yet, it is the most basic element that creates and sustains the earth. Dear Bob, a child of God, as you have come from creation, so shall you return to your home - the vast, wide territory of the creation of God, of the marvelous earth, of the illimitable Universe. May the love of Christ be your staircase, resurrection and hope that safely lead you to where you belong, truly and blessedly.

Theme Conversation: Baptism of Jesus and a Dove (Feb 15, 2015)

Theme Conversation - Baptism of Jesus and a dove

Over the past four weeks, our children have been learning about the baptism of Jesus. Their lessons have inspired me to talk about the story with our children and all who are young at heart.

When you google the baptism of Jesus, you can find some good drawings and paintings that illustrate the story, and what strikes me about these images is how they mirror the beauty I find in this story, which is the beauty that relationships in faith create.

In these pictures and in the story in the New Testament, there are three actors who participate in Jesus’ baptism.

Jesus, John the baptist, and God.

Jesus, who is divine yet human, who is fully enlightened to understand his true identity, his relationship with God, his destiny and path, humbly comes to John to be baptized.

Jesus, fully enlightened and aware of his path, does not choose to be alone, but to seek acceptance by his community, and by God through baptism. He knows that the love of God is alive only with others, and within community.

John the baptist respectfully receives Jesus’ request.

God is pleased to participate in this affirming event. I think that it’s a very important part of this story to notice that God “desires” to take part in this affirming event. God is so pleased that God wants to be part of this moment.

Our children coloured in a picture of the event in their children’s church (show the colouring sheet), after they learned the story of Jesus’s baptism in the Jordan river. On their colouring sheet they read, “The heavens opened and the Spirit like a dove descended unto Jesus. And there came a voice from heaven, saying “You are my son, in whom I am well pleased.”

When I was young, I wondered, why a dove? It wasn’t that I was wondering why God sent a dove instead of an eagle or a raven or even an angel;.I was wondering why God wanted to send something tangible and concrete that everyone could see. I thought, even if God didn’t send a dove, wouldn’t people know that God was there with Jesus and John and the crowd, anyway?. Why did God want to send a dove? Did God even need to do that for any real purpose?

Now I think I am getting a deeper understanding: now I think maybe God sent the dove to Jesus’ baptism not to prove that God was there, but to - applaud - like the way we clap when we’re really proud of someone. God is so pleased with our growth, God desires to take part in in our live’s events, baptism, confirmation, everything that helps us grow in our relationship with God. God so loves to know us, to be with us, to grow with us, and God really wants to be part of our growth.  

Will you pray with me?

Dear God

Thank you for loving us, and seeking us to love and to give love as blessings.

You create us to know you, in relationships and in hearts,

so we give thanks to you.

Help us to see you and your love in the heart of everyone we meet today.

Amen.

Intercultural Music Service Sermon: Singing in Unfamiliar Languages

photo credit: Jay McDaniel

Friends,

How are you, so far, singing our familiar hymns in unfamiliar languages?

So far, so good?

Are you overwhelmed?

What has it been like to move your lips in strange and different ways?

I think I should ask the question to the choir, this morning, as they sang a beautiful music mix of the Arirahng and Amazing Grace, for us. They were pretty good with singing Arirahng, the whole verse, completely in Korean. Pretty cool, eh?

(One of my Korean friends told me, “When you can do the ‘eh’ thing, the little question tag, well, you’re speaking ‘Canadian.’)

I ask you, this morning, what happens when we sing well-known songs in different languages. What was your first emotional, spiritual response to this invitation? As we have accepted this invitation, and as we sing together in diverse languages, what new kind of atmosphere and earth are we creating?

I have given some thought to those questions, myself.

The first word that came to mind was Love. If we don’t have love in our hearts, why would we bother to sing a new song? Those questions lead to bigger questions: why do we worship? What is the heart of worship that makes us gather and praise, (convivially, or for life togetherness)?

Again, I think of love: the love that lures, is persuasive but not coercive, a love that “amorously” calls us all to know that we are beloved, deeply loved. We affirm that we are all God’s Beloveds, without divide, without any precondition placed upon receiving that love. We are called to have a sense of inseparability with our God, with ourselves, with one another and the ‘other’. We are invited to reflect on our common humanity; that includes everyone who calls our earth home.

I took this picture at my son’s daycare, a few weeks ago. At around 5 pm, I was feeling quite anxious and was thinking of what to do next, after a busy, flustering sort of day at work, and while I was waiting a day care staff person opened the door for me. I was quite focused on my individual self, focusing inward. I was lost in thought and disconnected from the environment that surrounded me, thinking only of my day, of myself. Then I looked up and saw this cloud moving. The dense, dark evening cloud was moving above me, silent and fast. Looking at that gigantic mass of cloud rolling wordlessly through the sky made me enter a spiritual state of relief. I sensed that ‘I was where I should be.’ Reflecting back on the moment, I was invited to be ‘entangled’ again with the place where I was, not back to where my thoughts kept trying to drag me. I was refreshingly entangled with human and nonhuman beings that existed in that particular moment, that particular place, completely and beautifully. In the dense movement of the cloud, under the cover of ‘infinity’, I felt a sense of the blessed completeness of ‘finitude’. I have my own ‘end’, not only in a temporal sense, but in a spatial sense, like the membrane of a cell. Each cell has an outer membrane, allowing the cell to interact with its environment without being destroyed by it. At the daycare, cloud overhead, I wondered what I am going to do with my ‘finite’ness. I was lured by the environment around me to interact with, make an engagement with, make an entanglement with the other ‘finite’ beings, in a subtle cloud and embrace of ‘relationships.’

Relationship is a tricky word in English. We can think of relationships in a workplace with our co-workers. Or the relationship we have with our friends, relationships we have with our family members, or the relationship a couple builds between themselves as they begin to know each other more deeply, every day. The church also uses the word ‘relationship’, especially when we describe who we are to God and how God relates to us. We confess that we know God in relationship. God searches us and knows us in relationship.  Have you wondered, then, what defines and characterizes relationship? Can we apply what defines a ‘good’ relationship in a workplace to illustrate what defines and what is at the heart of our relationship with God? What is the primary quality, the profound emotion that is entailed in our relationship with God? Is the love of God different from all others, or does it share some aspects of the love we have for our brothers and sisters in Christ? I wonder whether the primary quality, the profound foundation of love and of relationship would be really changed depending on the source.

Love possesses its own unique density, opacity, colour, beauty, an intensity which can cause real pain. Love ushers us over a threshold which changes, transforms and renews us, our self-identity and our understanding of the Other. Is the essential nature of love ever changed or altered according to context? Think of the two statements I’ve just made - you could apply them to the effect of both human love and God’s love. As followers and friends of Jesus, we hold our great commandments as our foundation of faith: You shall love your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind. And you shall love your neighbour as you love yourself.

Becoming intercultural is one way to affirm the quality of love that we are called to embody as the great commandments tell us: The call to love that has the human ‘desire’ for one another and for God as the ground of our being. How can we not sing that love as we gather to become the ‘church of Jesus’? Think of how Jesus models ‘embodying' love. The essential element of love ushers us to have a sense of commitment to each other, a sense of ‘covenant’ we have with one another. The church of Jesus is the community of Eucharist, of Communion. The community that breaks the body of Christ  is the ‘body’ of Christ, as friends, brethren, sisters, as a community of equals, a community of beloveds. We embody, we incarnate, the love of Jesus. Why wouldn’t we dream that the church be the place for a feast of love that celebrates the embodiment of love?

In today’s Gospel reading, the mother-in-law of Simon, one of Jesus’ disciples, is in bed with a fever. Jesus is asked to go and see her. Imagine that you are in the stifling sickroom. Jesus opens the door and enters the room where Simon’s mother-in-law is in bed. What relationship does Jesus have with her? And what relationship does this woman have with him? Other people who asked Jesus to come and see her are invited to stay around the two of them. They looked at the two, the woman and Jesus, anxious and curious about what Jesus is going to do. What do they expect to happen? Our Bible says that “Jesus took her by the hand and lifted her up.” (... remind the congregation of the analogy of 'mano-po': the filipino's way of greeting) What has just happened between these two ‘finite’ beings at this moment? Is Jesus’ hand extended just for curing? The society where Jesus lived was patriarchal and hierarchical. The mother-in-law of Simon may have been a matriarch in Simon’s family and thus due some respect, but she was still a woman. She was probably less educated than Jesus. I wonder what love was shown, embodied, entangled, and shared when both Jesus and this woman took an active part in creating this event of healing (...)

Back to the question: why are we having this intercultural music service? Why do we sing songs in different languages? What kind of new atmosphere are we creating?

What do you think?

For me, I have no answer but this: we merge the familiar and the strange because we are invited to respond to the call of God. God is pitching woo at us, enticing us to enter where the quality of love reveals, at its heart:

 the beloved uncertainty

 the tender curiosity

 the strange wonder

We also sing because we are called to love God and love one another, with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our strength, with all our mind. We sing the songs that our brothers and sisters in Christ in the world sing to praise, to march, to remember, to mourn, to lament.

In Christian history, and in Canadian history, we lament and reflect on the way that the church has helped to create racial divides and racist culture. The church was muddily and tragically entangled with the history of slavery and colonialism. The church has taken on the role of the oppressor to many indigenous communities in the world, including in Canada. The church is still a place of trauma for many, preventing it from being perceived as the place for love, reconciliation, and renewed hope we wish it to be.

Singing may not be an answer for all of these hurts.

Love may not be all we need, all the time.

However, the intent for love is that it can be the mustard seed we scatter for hope.

Love is a great call that challenges us to dream to reach ‘the impossible.’

Love one another unconditionally. Forgive one another unconditionally.

I love the following words from Nicholas of Cusa; let’s take a moment to ponder them as Steven plays music for us.

“And the more that cloud of impossibility is recognized as obscure and impossible,

The more truly the necessity shines forth.”

~ Nicholas of Cusa, De Visione Dei

photo credit: Jay McDaniel

Contemplative Prayer Study, 2015, at The United Church in Meadowood

Our new study, Contemplative Prayer, begins on Feb 12th, TOMORROW at 10 am.
We will meet at the MacAskill Room in The United Church in Meadowood
(1111 Dakota Street, Winnipeg, Church office: 256-7002).

Our minister, Ha Na Park, invites you to come and explore the practice of contemplative prayer, following Open Mind, Open Heart, written by an acknowledged modern spiritual master, Fr. Thomas Keating. Ha Na majored in Religious Studies (BA & MA), and learned contemplative prayer when she studied mysticism, in Korea.

In 9 sessions, we will study an overview of the history of contemplative prayer in the Christian tradition, and receive step-by-step guidance in the method of Centering Prayer (15 mins for practice).

Everyone is welcome. No experience is needed. Registration is recommended.
However, you can always drop in, at any time as your spiritual need arises. We will have extra copies of the book be ready for you.

10 am, two Thursdays a month, alternating with our Thursday Bible Study, Interpreting Whispers.

The dates are: Feb 12th & 19th, Mar 19th & 26th, Apr 16th & 30th. The dates for May and June are TBA.

If you have any question or would like to register, please call to the church office (256-7200) or email  Ha Na to hana.park@ucim.org

Call to Worship for an Intercultural Music Service (& Passing the Peace Wordlessly, Creatively and Honourably)

This Sunday (Feb 8th), my church is going to celebrate the love we have for our God and another by having an Intercultural music service. We are going to sing the following songs in many different languages.

Draw the Circle Wide - More Voices 145

We are Marching in the Light of God (in English and Zulu) - Voices United 646

Senzeni Na? - MV 66

Know that God is Good (in English and French) - MV 104

We Give our Thanks (in English and Tswana) - MV 187

Sent Out in Jesus' Name (in English) - MV 212 ... It has a Spanish verse, as it is originated in Cuba

May the Love of the Lord (in English and Chinese) - MV 218

I wrote Call to Worship. I hope that it can give the worshippers a sense of what brings us together to sing in different languages: the love that lures, is persuasive and calls us all to know that we are be-loved, deeply loved. The affirmation that all of us, without divides, are the God's beloveds.

(This picture was taken at my son's daycare. At the moment, seeing the cloud moving , I was relieved and sensed that I was where I should be. In the dense movement of the cloud, under the cover of the 'infinity', I felt the blessed completeness of a 'finitude' and was drawn into the sense of wonder and pause. There is always something beyond the knowable: the deep and opaque presence, gleamed with an unlikely light.)

Call to Worship

In the cloud of multiplicity that diversifies, enfolds and unfolds

  The seeds of new possibilities

  The droplets of infinite dreams

We sing songs that celebrate our common humanity and one another’s uniqueness.

We initiate a question today of what it is like to become an intercultural worshipping community;

How we can worship God with new songs,

            sing in different languages.

We wonder, “what new story are we going to make today, by singing together?”  

Bring a question of love

The opaque love,

The dense love,

The love that surpasses understanding

Love isn’t a magic tool that fixes our world for us.

We may well ask, “Is Love all we need, all the time?”

Yet, love is still a profound calling God reserves for us.

Our desire to love one another takes us to a journey

where we enter

  A beloved uncertainty

  A tender curiosity

  A ‘strange wonder’

We praise You, O God. Blessed Be, Holy One.

Make us whole as we become a community of beloveds.

Let us worship with new songs,

and speak in diverse languages that all loves provide. Amen.

Sing: We Are Marching in the Light of God (in English and Zulu)

Blessed Silence

Friends, now I invite you to a silence.

Pausing to reflect is one part of a deepening dialogue; contemplative silence is an integral part of prayer.

In Exodus, God says,

“I am going to come to you, in a dense cloud.”

(Pause)

This inspires me to think

Faith may be the opposite not of doubt,

                                                   but of certainty.

Keeping faith is the capacity to exist in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts.

In a mass of opacity, of impossibility, God shines a light on unlikely,  blessed possibilities.

What is the uncertainty that most matters, to you, now?

(Silence)

Passing the Peace

May the peace of Christ be with you.

Also with you.

If you are asked to pass the peace in silence, without words, how would you deliver the peace to one another?  

Using your body, without words, how will you show your respect and love in Christ for each other?  

In January, I learned that, in the Philippines, people use “mano po.”

Mano means hands. Po means ‘please. Respect.’

(A younger person asks an elder to extend his or her hand, then gently pull her hand to touch it on the forehead. This is mano-po.

(Do mano-po to Gordon. Then Gordon to me.)

There are many ways to show respect and honour and share peace.

We can bow to one another, shake hands, gently hug each other. Hold our hands together in front of our chest.

You can gently hold another person’s hand.

The most important thing is to make good eye contact with everyone you greet and share Peace with.

Now, let us pass the peace, wordlessly, creatively and honourably, to show our respect and honour one another’s presence and uniqueness.

Our sung response is Senzeni Na? ("What have we done?")

                  MV  66. A song from the struggle for freedom in South Africa.