Sermon delivered by the Rev Dr Allan Aubrey Boesak at an ecumenical service organised by the World Council of Churches and the SACC to mark the opening of the World Summit on Sustainable Development

Now the whole world had one language and the same words. And as they migrated from the east, they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to one another, "Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly". And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, "Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the earth." The LORD came down to see the city and the tower, which mortals had built. And the LORD said, "Look, they are one people, and they have all one language; and this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do now will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down, and confuse their language there, so that they will not understand one another's speech." So the LORD scattered them abroad from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore it was called Babel, because there the LORD confused the language of all the earth; and from there the LORD scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth.

Genesis 11:1-9

I

This is a story fraught with difficulties and it comes with a whole history of misunderstandings. I will not say that the story of Babel in that sense is "worse" than other biblical stories. But it did inspire some unique interpretations.

For some, Genesis 11 is the explanation for the origin of languages. It is, I think they think, the perfect beginner's tool for Esperanto. For others, Babel is the personification of the evils of urbanization and modernization versus rural simplicity and spirituality. Here is the beginning of all our modern ailments: we leave the land where we were close to the earth and our own origins, and move to the sprawling cities, the breeding place of vice and sin. Our relationship with the land is lost, as is our relationship with our neighbours. A relationship of mutual concern and care is replaced by alienation, distrust and enmity. It ends as it had to: with total confusion, misunderstanding, dispersion.

Still others see Babel as biblical imagery of the growth of the world's financial empires. The tower of Babel equals the towers of the financial houses on Wall Street: symbols of ruthless manipulation of money markets and of the concomitant helplessness of the powerless masses who do not begin to understand the intricacies of the financial wizardry that shapes their world and controls their fate. At the same time Babel is read as a foreshadow of humankind's technological progress, reaching frightening heights, eventually overreaching ourselves, inviting God's wrath and punishment. Advances in medical science, genetic manipulation and human cloning - possibilities and now realities that make doctors and scientists into gods - Babel is the mother of it all.

Close to this view is the understanding of the sin of the people of Babel as human pride, which always leads to arrogance and hubris. The seeds of doom lie in the boastful "Come let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves…" There is the mindless ambition of the builders of Babel. The action of God resulting in the confusion of language is God's way of putting them in their place. In this sense, Babel becomes more than story: it is prophecy, and its final fulfilment, keeping in mind the state of the world, cannot be far off.

In the literature of the far religious right, the story of Babel foretells the sinful effort of human beings to "be of one accord". Efforts toward what they call "world government" as reflected in institutions like the United Nations and other international institutions are modern towers of Babel seeking to destroy the individuality of nations and persons, trying to place "God fearing" nations under the heel of the godless. Usually, for this group, the World Council of Churches would fall into this category as well. I do not believe that the story of the tower of Babel wants to tell us any of this.

However, by far the most imaginative misreading of the story of the tower, I think, can be found in the theology of the white Afrikaans Reformed churches in their moral and theological justification and defence of apartheid. Locating the sin of Babel in verse 1, apartheid theology interpreted it as a deliberate attempt to defy God's command given at creation (Gen. 1:28), and repeated to Noah (Gen. 9:1,7), that humankind should divide into separate peoples with different cultures and languages, ordained to be on their own, separate from others. Because this division is the indispensable basis for the peoples of the earth to spread out and be apart, in other words, to "fill the earth" in obedience to God's command, the very idea of "one city, one people, one language" is a defiance of God.

The unity described in Gen. 11:1 and 6 is in itself offensive, contrary to God's creational order, proof of the sinfulness, disobedience and arrogance of humankind. God's act of confusion is therefore much more than just an issue of language. It is punishment, a reassertion of God's original command that humankind should be split into different peoples with different languages and cultures, living within the predetermined boundaries of their separate places. The policies of apartheid thus became a return to obedience which Babel refused, a reassertion of God's will, which Babel shunned.

Since the action of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, in fact the whole ecumenical movement, to declare apartheid a sin and its theological justification heresy and idolatry, end especially since the end of apartheid as official government policy in South Africa, this theology has lost its power. Among representatives of these churches there is no one who today would defend this viewpoint anymore. At least not publicly. This is not to say, however, that it has lost its relevance for those who still believe that the separation of the races can be justified from Scripture - if not in society, then at least in their churches.

II

All these readings are interesting, sometimes curious. But they do not pinpoint what I believe to be the sin of Babel. That sin, I think, lies in verse 4:

"Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the earth."

It is these last words that give away the game. And it is here, not in verse 1, where the act of disobedience and defiance lies. For the tale of Babel is indeed told to show the contrast between God's purposes and the ideas of sinful, prideful humankind. And sure, the narrator raises amused chuckles from his audience as he describes the building process in detail; as Babel reaches high to make for themselves "a name" with their tower "with its top in the heavens". Every faithful Jew knows the futility and preposterousness of such thoughts. But by the time we get to verse 6, when Yahweh has to "come down" to see this city and its heaven-high tower, our story has them rolling in the aisles. It is, after all, only a city and a tower "which mortals had built".

But underneath all the amusement, Israel knew this was serious business. The story of Babel's tower contradicts everything God has intended. Already they could hear the returning rumblings of Genesis 6 and that fatal echo of the Lord's profound and disturbing regret. This is a story of humankind in revolt against God and all creation, of a people at cross-purposes with God, in denial of their own destiny and their reason for being. Israel knows: the tale is about a city and a tower, but what is at stake is the future of the world. Israel knows: what we see here is not just the plans of human beings, but an attack on the plans of God.

The contrast with the purposes of God, the contrast between the acts of God and the acts of the people of Babel cannot be denied. God said, "Let us make humankind…"; they said, "let us make bricks…" God said, "…In our image and our likeness…"; they said, "Let us make a name for ourselves…" God blessed them and said, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it, and have dominion…" They said, "Let us build a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens…otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the earth."

The images emerging out of this contrast are completely different; are, in fact, opposing. God creates humankind in order to go out, work the earth, subdue it, shape it until it becomes a space for life, a dwelling place for God and all God's creation. In order to do this, God does not command them or compel them, but God "blessed them and said…" This has at least two implications. To work the earth, to "have dominion", is not a curse, although we have made it so. It was meant to be a blessing. But we have, with our greed and rapaciousness, all but destroyed God's creation. We live as if others do not exist. The earth future generations will inherit will be scorched, raped, hollowed out, worthless; stripped of its resources for life, stripped also of the glory of God. Our God-given capacity for being a blessing we have turned into an amazing ability for destruction.

While Psalm 24 rejoices in God's ownership of creation, "The earth is the Lord's!", Psalm 115 glories in the stewardship of humankind: "The earth God has given to humankind!" And it is in that fundamental partnership that the blessing lies. It was always thus. God blesses Abraham not just for his own sake, but to be a blessing to the nations. God blesses Joseph not to wield power for power's sake, but to save a whole people. By linking "dominion" to "blessing" the whole idea of "lording it over" with its overtones of violence is subverted and effectively set aside. It is a dominion meant to serve.

But secondly, that means that human beings are called to become engaged in this world, in the affairs of history. To "subdue the earth" must not be understood in simple agrarian terms. It has social, political, economic and ecological implications. God's wish for humanity is to build, to plant, sow, harvest, to create a world in which all this is possible. To right which is wrong. To do justice, love mercy and to walk humbly with our God. And to do this together with others.

It means also, almost as inevitable consequence, opening oneself to others, their love and compassion, but also their critique and correction. "Subduing the earth" is both a human and humanizing effort, and activity which calls for community and togetherness. It agitates against separation, isolationism and the inwardness of self-preservation. It means too, an understanding of our creaturely relatedness, of our oneness with the rest of creation, and opens us up to the blessing and critique of the earth and the heavens.

But to do this, to be a part of all this, which is God's purpose, means that we must be ready to be "scattered". We cannot do any of this while sitting fearfully in our own little corner, fiercely guarding our own little piece of turf. To be scattered means to be willing to lose a bit of ourselves, of our own identity, in order to gain the greater purpose of our human-beingness, our common humanity. And this is what Babel feared most. Building a city, building a tower, making a name for themselves - all this is necessary, but purely preliminary to the real thing: to prevent being scattered. Babel found being in the world, doing God's will, serving creation and humankind, getting their hands dirty in the affairs of being human, unthinkable. That vulnerability of community, that woundability of openness, scares Babel to death. So Babel closes up.

It is not as if Babel is doing this out of ignorance. No, they know exactly what the score is. There are no surprises here. They understand only too well what the LORD requires. Hence their vehement resistance. No less than three times we hear the words the people of Babel fear most, the words that form the heart of the matter: "Otherwise we shall be scattered…"

And not just scattered, bur scattered "abroad upon the face of the earth". And indeed, that is precisely the LORD's intention. There are no half measures. Then the narrator repeats twice the fact that God's purposes shall not be thwarted. Babel is called to order by the disorder of the confusion, and the LORD "scattered" them "all over the face of the earth". (v. 8,9) That is what God wants, and that is what Babel refuses to do. And that is the sin of Babel.

Babel places a towering correction on all that God intends. That tower is a heaven-high "NO!" to God. Babel chooses to remain in one place, safeguarded by the walls of brick and tar. Babel does not want to risk losing themselves in the world - there is too much to lose. It is not just that they experience "angst" as in their "finitude, frailty and individual mortality" they face the vastness of the world, as one commentator explains. It is that their unity, their being together, their sameness have become so precious that they did not dare risk it in confrontation with the world. What drove them was not the preservation of the world, but preservation of self. What motivated them was not to share God's blessing with creation, but to keep the blessing for themselves. What they had in mind was not the salvation of the world, but the self-engrandizement of Babel.

Besides, they knew: once you open yourself to the world, become involved in the affairs of the world, you risk breaking the unity. You invite dissension. If you point out the wrongs outside, pretty soon someone will point to the wrongs inside. Pretty soon you will have to make choices, and that brings tensions.

So let us prevent that, they thought. Let us build a city, with walls to keep the world out, so that we do not have to see the world, its pain, the suffering of its peoples, their needs or the challenges they pose. "Let us make a name for ourselves". Let us become the envy of those who are foolish enough to respond to God's call. Let us show our technological prowess to the world and let them see the great heights a people can attain. This is the epitome of Babel's civilization: life without God, greatness without risk, security without humanity. Let us revel in our isolation, they say. Let us celebrate our achievement: one people, one language, one goal, one city where we all think alike and speak alike. "Oh, blessed uniformity!" is the battle hymn of the Republic of Babel.

Let us build a tower, they say. They mean a ziggurat, a temple tower, a steeple with steps, something like a human-made holy mountain. It is a sign of communication with heaven. The steps are for the gods to come down to speak to their supplicants. But that high tower, "with its top in the heavens" signifies more than just their religiosity. It is simultaneously a witness to their power, high enough for all to see. And it is entirely fitting that that power is expressed in their affinity to, nay more, their familiarity with their gods. So the tower symbolizes their power and their religion, their achievements as well as their life-style, their theology that fits their ideology of unity, power, self-preservation and self-sufficiency. The tower, in all its intimidating strength and glory, says it all: Babel has made it. It needs no one. It has communication with the gods of its choosing while it cuts itself off from the world. For them, that is enough. For them, that is the glory of their self-centered existence, the essence of their faith.

III

And so the tale of the tower of Babel, that tower that was supposed to represent power and high achievement, independence and self-sufficiency, turns out to be a tale of a tower of fear. Fear of love and openness, of engagement and humanbeingness, fear of life itself. But it certainly was not the fear of the Lord. It also turns out to be a devastating critique of the kind of theology that seeks to sanctify apartheid, separateness and racism. But it is a critique also of all theology that is no more than a religion of the dominant culture, revelling in its rituals of self-endorsement, while drowning out the cries of the needy and the dissident voices that speak a language other than the dominant, and accepted, one.

It is a critique of all theology which becomes the religiosity of the powerful, leaving the poor and the powerless, the weak and the needy to languish outside in the shadow of the tower. It is a revolt against all theology that pictures God as waving the flag of unrepentant nationalism, making God the Ultimate Patriot, the source of self-sufficient, uncritical pietism while keeping the suffering of the world outside the gates. Their unity is patently false because it is the unity of coercion. Their sameness is in suppression of truth and dissent; their "name" is the notoriety of self-deception; their greatness is in denial of love; their language is the language of self-congratulatory pride.

"And the Lord said, look, they are one people, and they have all one language; and this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose will now be impossible for them". (v. 6) These are strange, ominous sounding words. As indeed they are. It is not, as some have suggested, that God is "threatened" by an autonomous, free-thinking human being, wanting always to keep us "small" and therefore forever dependent on the divine power. The power God had invested in human beings at creation remains irreversible, and God is not regretting that. God is worrying about something else.

What was intended as a blessing for humankind, has now been turned into a threat to humankind. The unity of humanity has been turned into a dangerous, deadly sameness. The fantasy of our creativity, which blossoms in our obedience to God, has been harnessed, compressed into a slave mentality that has lost all sense of freedom. No one dares to break the pattern of speech. Raising doubts about the ways of the people is a threat to the unity of the people. Raising questions about the walls around the city is an onslaught on the security of the city. Questioning the tower is a sin against the gods.

But the strangeness of God's words does not end there. "This is only the beginning", God says, "nothing that they propose will now be impossible for them". God sounds scared. And rightly so. But God is afraid for us. When there is just sameness, when all must speak the same language, when dissident voices are silenced, and when those who turn against the tower are crushed by the tower, then indeed nothing that they will do will be impossible, for there is no way to stop them. And this is only the beginning! Who knows to what terrible depths humanity will be plunged by those drunk with the power of the tower.

How right the Bible is. For have we not seen this again and again, in our history? How quickly did the voice of Hitler become the voice of all Germany, relegating all critical voices to the sidelines, or to the prison cells, finally silencing them before the firing squad, or like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, on the gallows? And how easy it became for almost everyone to be deaf to the voices of those in the extermination camps, outside the walls and under that Aryan tower? And how important, how absolutely necessary, how indispensable it is for dictators to emphasize the "unity" of the people, since it is this bogus unity that guarantees their position of power.

How rapidly had so many in the church join the thunderous voice of self-righteous politics, enhanced a thousand-fold by the media, hungry for sensation and brooking no dissent, sanctioning the inauguration of President Bush's "new world order" through the war on Iraq, because it was "God's war"? How hard was it then, for honourable men and women to be heard? How were the prophets ridiculed, who knew, and saw, what this hysteria would leave in its wake? Those who were not part of the sameness, who did not bow at Babel's altars, or sang in Babel's choir, were cast outside the gates, marginalized by the powers of the tower. And finally, when, in light of the thousands of Iraqi children dying from war, starvation and lack of medical care, Secretary of State Madeline Albright was asked whether the policies were worth the price, she answered without even blinking, "It is worth it". God was right: "Nothing that they propose to do will be impossible for them…"

It is supreme irony that the new South Africa has taken over from the old that which was so hallowed in apartheid South Africa. Like the monuments of the heroes and the legacy of the policies of white South Africa, the tower of Babel still towers over the lives of our people. The official ideology says, "We are a miracle", "apartheid is dead", "racism no longer exists", "We are the rainbow nation". That is the defensive, albeit futile mantra in the media, and those whose privileged lives are still safeguarded by the legacies of the past. Those who disagree, who point to the rampant racism, both inherited from the past and revived by the present; who try to tell South Africa that we are still two nations, with a growing chasm between the rich and the poor, including the new black elite, are called "enemies of democracy", "clinging to outdated sentiments". The dissident voices who defend the poor are sarcastically called "demagogues of the poor".

Those whose interests are served by the continued untransformed nature of South African society, from our sports fields to our justice system, are impressed by the "process of national reconciliation". Everyone must agree. Those who differ, who for the sake of true reconciliation, ask questions about the genuineness of the process, who question the sincerity of low-level security policemen whose version of the truth is blatantly false, are condemned. Those who wonder at a process where the evildoers are not required to repent, and where whole sections of the apartheid apparatus, like the judiciary, are left untouched for political reasons, leaving one of the central pillars of the apartheid state unrepentant and untransformed, are branded renegades. Those who have problems with reconciliation without restitution, with what Bonhoeffer has called cheap grace, who raise questions about the biblical validity of it all, are attacked, accused of having an "unforgiving spirit", of not being "Christian" and disloyal.

And it is only the beginning! Indeed, nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them.

So now God acts. "Come, let us go down, and confuse their language there…" (v.7) "Just as God deprives Adam and Eve of the paradise where God had originally set them, God now deprives humankind of the unity and mutual understanding which God gave them but which they have now misused", writes one commentator. That might be true. But I would like to suggest something else.

God is not depriving humankind of anything. We have, rather, short-changed ourselves. "Confusing their language" here means breaking that sinful uniformity, breaking the silence, breaking down the hegemony of the tower. Breaking the monopoly, confusing the language of subservient sameness, means creating room for dissent, making space for criticism, opening a breach in the walls of this enclosed city, subverting the foundations of the tower. It means letting in the light of prophecy.

God knows when it is needed:

• Michaia ben Imla, facing the prophets of the court who could only pronounce the wishes of the king;
• Elijah, facing king Ahab, challenging Israel to serve the one, true, God;
• Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Hitler's Germany: "Whoever cannot weep for Jews, cannot sing Gregorian hymns";
• Martin Luther King, challenging the forces of violence; "We must be like Jesus of Nazareth, who had the courage to say, 'he who lives by the sword shall perish by the sword'";
• Oscar Romero, whose blood mingled with the cup of Jesus, spilled on the altar of sacrifice;
• Steve Biko, whose life remains a beacon of inspiration for us all.

We are here at this world summit to be heard, to speak, boldly and unhesitatingly, for the sake of justice, truth and the survival of humanity.

Today, one decision is taken in Washington or London and thousands are terrorized under the name of fighting terrorism. A voice is needed.

Today, we know that wars are not fought just to control oil, or to secure "humane intervention". They are fought principally because they are so profitable. A voice is needed.

Precious forests continue to be destroyed, the stranglehold on virgin land is tightening, and whole communities are threatened. A voice is needed.

Today we know: floods in China and Europe, chaos in the Amazon, starvation in Zimbabwe - these are not acts of God. They are the result of deliberate political inaction, the refusal of wilful, powerful men who refuse to listen to the voice of reason, for whom short-term political gain is always more important than the dignity of people or the future of humankind. A voice is needed.

Today we know: the rules of international trade are blatantly and deliberately unjust to favour the rich nations. We are here to challenge the disastrous pampering of corporate globalization. A voice is needed.

Today we know: there are more than a ¼ million child soldiers; 2 billion people have no access to energy or clean water. In Sub-Saharan Africa someone is infected with HIV every fifteen seconds. The gap between rich and poor is growing and globalization's trickle-down theory is not working. We know we can eradicate poverty in the next fifteen years. We have the resources. The plans are in place. All we are lacking is the political will. A voice is needed.

After more than a decade of "development" in Africa, the Word Bank's own figures show that the number of people living below the minimum poverty line (i.e. US1 per day) increased in Africa from 68 million in 1982 to 216 million in 1990. And we are more than ten years further. The World Bank predicts that under its ongoing tutelage, this will continue to rise - to more than 300 million, half the population of Africa, by next year. A voice is needed.

A voice is needed to break the oppressing, albeit comfortable sameness of our time. We must dare to challenge Babel, dare to point out the cracks in the wall, nay more, dare to break down the walls, shake the shaky foundations of that staggering tower. We know the poor cannot wait forever. We look at Europe and China and we know disaster is coming. We see the children dying in the Middle East. What in God's name are we waiting for?

We are not at this summit to rehash the empty promises made in Rio no government has had the decency to honour. We are here to make sure that the voice of the voiceless is heard. The confusion in world politics is not of God's making. It is the deliberate refusal to respond to the will of God, to do what the Lord requires: justice, mercy, and the humility to walk with God.

IV

But is this utter confusion the final word? Does the story end there? Let's take a look. What follows in Genesis 11 is fairly innocuous, and frankly, slightly boring. Suddenly this gripping tale of the city with its tower tapers off into this bland repetition of names: Shem, Arpachsad, Shelah and Eber. Peleg, Reu, Serug and Nahor. Names that say nothing and mean nothing. Not to us anyway. "And they had sons and daughters…" So what? We want to say.

Then suddenly we know why the biblical writer takes us through that boring list of names. For at the end of the chapter, a name appears. Abram. A name like the morning star, signalling the end of a long, dark, fearful night. Abram: a name like a blessing.

The whole history of Abraham is captured in three words: God speaks; Abraham hears; Abraham goes. To where? To a different land, a different city, says the writer of Hebrews, a city of the future. Abraham goes out into the world, to transform the world, to be a vehicle of God's promises - the bearer of God's blessing, the embodiment of God's grace. Abraham does what the tower builders of Babel would not and could not do: he listens to God's voice and is willing to be scattered. He does not stay in Haran, but leaves, without certainties or guarantees, abandoning all that is familiar and has meaning in terms of cultural and political identity, abandoning the territory of his father's gods, in utter faith and trust in the One who has called him.

And as Abraham, not knowing where he was going, steps outside the walls of his city in the wide open plains, he steps into the wideness of the grace of God, and becomes, by grace and faith, the paradigm of all who spurn the tower and challenge its power. Those who have learned to speak, but they speak a new tongue, fulfilling what God spoke through the prophet,

"At that time I will change the speech of the peoples to a pure speech, that all of them may call on the name of the LORD and serve him with one accord…" (Zeph. 3:9)

Now the unity lies not in the sameness of uniformity, but in the multitudinous praise pf the glory of the LORD. Now the speech is not threatening, or cajoling, or manipulative, but pure. That is speech beyond the confused babble of Babel, beyond the fearful gibberish of godless humankind, beyond the prideful chatter of the tower builders. It is the speech of those who believe, and "look forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God". (Hebr. 11:10)

So let us be scattered. Let us go and build a city. Not a fear-filled, walled city to hide away in, but a city of love, and justice; of mercy and compassion; a city of light and promise; a dwelling place for God and for God's people. A city without walls and "whose portals shall never be closed". (Rev. 21:25) A city with a future.