Fellowship: Common Comfort

At a Fire & Song Event

I am learning that comfort is an illusion. Particularly in the context of ‘comfort zones’.

I consider myself an introvert. I feel spent after an hour in social settings. I need to retreat into my shell for hours to recharge. I prefer time alone with my thoughts. I’m most comfortable in my own space and there are really only 2 or 3 people around whom I truly come alive.

But God is putting me to the test. In seeking his kingdom, I must seek fellowship with his people. In wanting more of Christ, I yearn for connection with believers, and fellowship in the Body. I yearn to venture beyond my comfort zone, and feel rather comfortable in that endeavour. I am having to learn to pursue connections in a way that has upturned my understanding of myself and my introversion.

Most people don’t believe me when I say I’m an introvert. Usually, I would try to convince them otherwise. I would hurry to tell them not to mistake confidence for extroversion, assure them I’ve had years of practice in public speaking, debating, performing arts, etc. Now I just smile a grateful, knowing smile. I’m coming to understand that something bigger is at play. Those aren’t the reasons I don’t pass as an introvert.

It could only be grace – a common comfort.

– Lele M

‘Dealing with Dawkins’

Written by Dr John Blanchard

Christian apologetics.

‘Perfect for our skeptical times, this book will demonstrate to any open-minded reader that, contrary to Dawkins’ atheistic claims, biblical Christianity is reliable and relevant, powerful and persuasive.’ – Professor Edgar H. Andrews

Blanchard offers an elegant and concise engagement with Dawkins’ scholarship. He reveals Richard Dawkins’ as a man on a proud mission to ‘attack God, all gods, anything and everything supernatural, wherever and whenever they have been or will be invented’ [1].

This is a crucial consideration for Dawkins’ readers, as it demonstrates a bias so passionate it debilitates much of Dawkins’ latter scholarship. To his credit, Dawkins is upfront about his intention to convert his readers to atheism. That is, after all, Dawkins’ appeal. At least, that is why I purchased and read his work years ago as a 16-year-old militant atheist.

The God Delusion and The Greatest Show on Earth are the focus of Blanchard’s response. He tactfully demonstrates that Dawkins’ approach to theology is often shallow, illogical, and ignorant. By the end of the book, he explores the nature of true faith, submits God-centered alternatives, and concludes with a cogent depiction of the only message worth sharing – the gospel of Jesus Christ.

As a former adherent of Dawkins’ cause, I consider Dawkins’ dealt with, decisively.

– Lele M

[1] The God Delusion, p.36

S v Legality

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This account will contend that the rule of law in South Africa is more than a relic of colonialism. The thrust of this argument is that post-colonial constitutions intentionally and necessarily reconceptualize the role of the rule of law. As such, the post-colonial rule of law assumes a different character and effect than that which it had under colonial rule.

In substantiation, I will first consider the rule of law during apartheid South Africa. This consideration will reveal that the rule of law was compromised under parliamentary sovereignty. Then, to demonstrate the difference of the post-colonial perspective on the rule of law, I will assess South Africa’s effort to reconceptualize the legal principle in the post-apartheid dispensation. This portion of the essay will contrast liberal post-apartheid constitutionalism and transformative constitutionalism. In doing so, I will hold that the former is more persuasive and appropriate in the South African context and democratic constitutionalism.

Legality in the Colony

During apartheid, the legislature enjoyed supremacy above the executive and judiciary. Parliament, as the sovereign legal authority, could create and abolish any law concerning any issue. Legislation passed by parliament could not be invalidated by the courts. The judiciary simply did not have the jurisdiction to challenge legislation. This allowed the racially discriminatory apartheid laws to go unchecked because the legislature governed with absolute discretion. In this way, the governance structure of the apartheid regime severely compromised the principle of the rule of law. Consequently, parliamentary sovereignty grossly undermined justice.      

On the other hand, constitutionalism attempts to avert arbitrary government such as exercised by the apartheid regime. Constitutionalism proposes government by the constitution. Thus, constitutionalism, as an instrument to curb arbitrary government, aligns with the inner morality of law[1]. According to this understanding, laws must be (inter alia) publicly promulgated, clear, and equally enforced.

Additionally, the function of democracy in constitutionalism is key. Democracy legitimises constitutional rule because the legislature is constituted by democratically elected representatives of the voting populace. The duly elected parliament represents the diverse interests, experiences, and ambitions of a variety of constituencies. As such, the laws passed by an elected legislature are a reflection (albeit imperfect) of the needs, values and will of the people. Therefore, constitutionalism in a democratic framework not only facilitates but also protects the notion of popular self-government.

Democratic constitutionalism then, relies heavily on the rule of law. This ‘rule’ refers to the principle that no person or institution is above the law. In a democracy, this principle is paramount.

Post-apartheid Constitutionalism

The rule of law in terms of the post-apartheid constitutions is more than a legacy of colonialism. In this, I agree with Upendra Baxi[2]. Colonialism is part of the history of the rule of law in former colonies and thus influences post-colonial constitutions. However, it is also more complex than that. Post-apartheid constitutions are responsive documents. They are unapologetically written as tools for the achievement of a desired end. This end is typically informed by several factors, including the country’s socio-political history as a colony, its current reality, its vision for the future, and place among the global community of nations.

In South Africa the rule of law is a crucial founding tenet of the Republic. It is provided for in the very first section of the Constitution – s1(c). The authors of the Constitution placed the rule of law among important founding values including human dignity s1(a), non-racialism s1(b), and constitutional supremacy s1(c). The provision entrenching the rule of law appears immediately alongside constitutional sovereignty. It is no coincidence that the principle of legality enjoys a prominent position. Not only does this indicate the lawmakers’ esteemed view of the principle of the rule of law and its centrality in characterising the Republic. It also communicates a clear intention to bind South Africa to this principle fundamentally.

The primacy of the rule of law in the Constitution is perspicuous and uncontroversial. The rule of law as adumbrated in the Constitution is part of the very definition of South Africa. For this reason, understanding the prevailing judicial perception of the rule of law is paramount. It informs the application and operation of the principle of the rule of law in post-apartheid South African courts. Here, the main contending conceptions of the rule of law in South Africa are transformative constitutionalism, and liberal post-apartheid constitutionalism.

Considering the Postcolonial Conflict

The rule of law as envisaged by the drafters of the Constitution differs radically from that of the preceding founding national documents (of 1909, 1961, 1983) in conception and application. The rule of law under Apartheid was used to meet the political ends of the totalitarian regime. The sovereign legislature of the time weaponised the rule of law by passing overtly racist legislation. This discriminatory legislation was potent because the judiciary was 1) not able to challenge policy and declare legislation invalid, and 2) able to use the rule of law as a makeshift shield to avoid deliberating on the substance and validity of apartheid legislation. Rather than conscientiously adjudicatory, the role of the judiciary was administrative. Judges were discouraged from independent adjudication. Under parliamentary sovereignty, the court could not declare laws to be invalid. All laws validly passed by parliament were enforceable. Thus, judges were able to cite the principle of the rule of law in adjudication to uphold and enforce apartheid legislation.

A full procedural revolution is described as involving the rejection and removal of an established government and the successful establishment of a new order. This traditional conception of a revolution requires the use of extra-constitutional means to revolt against the establishment. In this way, a ‘legal revolution’ is a contradiction in terms. As a founding provision of the Republic in the Constitution, the rule of law is not extra-constitutional. Inherently, it is not revolutionary arsenal. The rule of law alone as contemplated in the Constitution does not facilitate revolt and cannot revolutionise South Africa.

Moreover, this is preferrable. Not only is the rule of law, as a legal principle, technically unable to revolutionise South Africa. It is also best that it cannot, and indeed does not, overthrow the South African order. South Africa [needs] reform rather than revolution. The country is a young post-colonial democracy and is susceptible to the pitfalls similarly faced by countries which emerge as democratic post-colonies. The challenges faced by India’s post-colonial constitutionality and cited by Baxi are but one example. Judicial constraints are crucial in post-colonies. To avoid the abuse of power in an already vulnerable society, South Africa’s approach to the principle of legality ought to rely more on time-tested structures and processes rather than intervention. Thus, the prudence of liberal-conservative post-apartheid constitutionalism is more appropriate.

Post-apartheid constitutionalism requires prudence, not despite South Africa’s history but because of it. We ought to be prudent and ‘constrained’ particularly considering previous abuses of the law and judicial power in South Africa. The ‘constrained vision’[3] contemplated by economist and social theorist Dr Thomas Sowell refers broadly to a view of the world which is guided by the principle of prudence, and belief in checks and balances.

The constrained vision is reflected in South Africa’s legal culture as liberal-conservative post-apartheid constitutionalism. This liberal-conservative view is often misconstrued as ineffective, archaic, and inflexible. This is an inaccurate representation of liberal-conservatism. The liberal-conservative constitutionalist is not opposed to change, or conscientious adjudication.

Instead, the liberal-conservative constitutionalist is guided by the principles of precedence and prescription. He believes, as Burke did, that “the individual is foolish, the species is wise.” As such, the liberal-conservative constitutionalist adheres to custom, convention, and continuity. He understands that permanence and change are equally crucial to the development of South Africa’s postcolonial constitutional democracy. Thus, both permanence and change must be acknowledged and reconciled in a vibrant society[4].

The ‘unconstrained vision’[5] is reflected in South Africa as transformative constitutionalism. Although transformative constitutionalism is characteristically amorphous, it is broadly predicated on the vision espoused in the epilogue of the Interim Constitution[6]. This vision imagines a new South African society based on substantive equality. Transformative constitutionalism, then, is an outcomes-based approach. It is concerned with transformation which has been described by former Chief Justice Pius Langa as “a social and economic revolution”. This consequentialist application of the Constitution fundamentally seeks ‘transformative’ ends and substantive equality[7] – also referred to as ‘equality of outcome’.

Notably, the post-apartheid legal order must be based on persuasion, rather than coercion. To this end, South Africa’s post-apartheid legal culture has gradually become a culture of judicial justification. A culture of judicial justification refers to the notion that legitimate leadership and governance is assessed through the merit of the case argued in defence of its pronouncements. On the other hand, the culture of judicial authority during the apartheid era legitimated leadership through fear entrenched by the force of its command.

This compelling shift to judicial justification is most compatible with liberal-conservative constitutionalism rather than transformative constitutionalism. The liberal-conservative constitutionalist perceives the need for prudent restraints on power and human passions, regardless of good intentions. As such, he is beholden to a stricter standard of justification which maintains “a healthy tension between the claims of authority and the claims of liberty[8].”

On the other hand, transformative constitutionalism presents the counter-majoritarian dilemma. This dilemma refers to a tension caused by the influence which unelected judges have on the effect of legislation passed by a duly elected legislature. The dilemma is concerned with the extent to which judges play a role in ‘making law’. Although adjudication presents a legitimate and necessary opportunity to develop law and policy. The counter-majoritarian dilemma sees a potential redundancy in the democratic election of lawmakers where judges are also allowed the discretion to prescribe certain policy outcomes according to the interests of certain groups.

As mentioned earlier, transformative constitutionalism is a judicial approach which is primarily concerned with specific (transformative) outcomes of legislation. The ‘transformative’ and even ‘revolutionary’ adjudication contemplated by this view stands to undermine the democratic process as a legitimate expression of the will of the people. As Sowell argues, even judges are not immune to the influence of power and therefore cannot legitimately act as “surrogate decision-makers” in a society where the popular vote already elects representatives to make policy decisions. This exposes the potentially perilous nature of transformative constitutionalism in South Africa’s judiciary.

Instead, a liberal-conservative approach relies heavily on democratic constitutionalism in the legislature rather than transformative constitutionalism in the judiciary. It recognises that the two cannot coexist comfortably for long before grave tensions arise. This prudent approach does not only protect democracy by preferring constraints on judicial power. It is also concordant with the separation of powers, and the principle of the rule of law.

– Lele M

Bibliography

Baxi, Upendra. ‘Post-colonial Legality: A Postscript from India’. Warwick: Verfassung und Recht in Ubersee VRU 45, 2012.

Edwards, Pamela. ‘Permanence and Progression: The Statesman’s Science: History, Nature, and Law in the Political Thought of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. New York: Columbia University Press, 2004.

Kirk, Russell. ‘The Politics of Prudence’. Intercollegiate Studies Institute, 2014.

Langa, Pius. ‘Transformative Constitutionalism’. Stellenbosch: 17 Stellenbosch L. Rev 351, 2006.

Sowell, Thomas. ‘A Conflict of Visions: Ideological Origins of Political Struggles’. New York: W. Morrow, 1987.


[1] Developed by Lon Fuller

[2] U Baxi ‘Chapter 28: Postcolonial legality’ in H Schwarz and S Ray (eds) A companion to postcolonial studies

[3] The constrained (tragic) vision relies on the belief that human nature is essentially unchanging and that man is naturally inherently self-interested, regardless of the best intentions. Those with a constrained vision prefer the systematic processes of the rule of law and experience of tradition. Compromise is essential because there are no ideal solutions, only trade-offs.

[4] Pamela Edwards in ‘Permanence and Progression’

[5] The unconstrained (utopian) vision relies on the belief that human nature is essentially good. Those with an unconstrained vision distrust decentralized processes and are impatient with large institutions and systemic processes that constrain human action. They believe there is an ideal solution to every problem, and that compromise is never acceptable.

[6] “a historic bridge between the past of a deeply divided society characterised by strife, conflict, untold suffering and injustice, and a future founded on the recognition of human rights, democracy and peaceful co-existence and development opportunities for all South Africans, irrespective of colour, race, class, belief or sex”.

[7] Pius Langa in ‘Transformative Constitutionalism’

[8] Russell Kirk in ‘Politics of Prudence’

Bloom

I picked some flowers to preserve through drying. Full debrief in the podcast.

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#1: I am grateful for the splendor of God’s majesty.

#2: I am grateful for weekends spent alone.

#3: I am grateful for the companionship of the holy spirit.

I had a bit of practice picking pretty flowers beforehand so I loved it all the more. This is my new favorite thing to do outdoors. I t has made me more attentive to the oversufficiency of casual beauty around us.

Lele M

Fatigue

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Sometimes I get tired of feeling.

I get tired of my consciousness of my feelings.

I get tired of my unconsciousness of my feelings.

I get tired of identifying my feelings.

I get tired of wrestling my feelings.

I get tired of surrendering to my feelings.

I get tired of resisting negative emotions.

I get tired of learning that resistance only exacerbates my anxiety.

I get tired of the cycle.

I get tired of falling for fear.

I get tired of feeling tired.

I get tired of feeling.

I get tired.

I feel.

And I would not have it any other way.

Lele M

Novelty Noted

I left notes in some books at my local bookstore. Full debrief in the podcast.

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#1: I am grateful to be used by God in the lives of others.

#2: I am grateful for the enterprise of book writing, publishing and selling.

#3: I am grateful for the moral support I enjoyed from a kind co-conspirator who hid the notes with me.

I had written the three notes of encouragement before I left my place earlier. I now wish I’d left a way for the future readers to contact me. Alas, for now, my work is done.

Lele M

Chapter V | The Shadow of the Ring


The city moved differently after the café fire. News reports called it “another accident,” but people whispered of omens. Even the pigeons seemed to circle slower, their wings uneasy with the heat of some invisible flame.



Noluntu walked through the streets as though wading through the residue of her own past. Each corner hummed with faint memory—the laughter of comrades, the sermons of street preachers, the soft murmur of her mother’s voice calling her Nkanyezi, my little star. But the name meant something different now. She could feel her light returning, though dim and uncertain.

Asher had vanished after the fire. No calls, no messages, only the faint smell of sandalwood that lingered in her apartment for days after. She wanted to dismiss him as fantasy, but the note he’d written still glowed faintly in the dark: You’re remembering.



In her sleep, fragments of her uncle’s funeral replayed in reverse—the men with gold rings, their eyes sharp as blades, chanting in a language older than isiZulu. One word echoed in her mind: Zedekiah. She found it the next morning in her book’s margins, written in ink that shimmered like oil.

Zedekiah—the priest-king, last of the holy line before captivity. Was it a name? A title? Or a warning?

That afternoon, she visited her parents’ old comrade, MaLebo, a retired revolutionary who lived in an RDP house on the outskirts of Soweto. The walls were lined with portraits of the struggle: fists raised, faces defiant. But the spirit had faded from them, like colour washed from old cloth.

“Your mother was a prophetess,” MaLebo told her between sips of rooibos. “She said your blood was older than the ANC, older than the Party, older than even the tribes. She said your line was the line of Levi—the priesthood of Israel. But we didn’t listen. We thought she was speaking in riddles.”



Noluntu frowned. “Levi? But how could that be—”

MaLebo raised a hand. “Child, there are stories buried under every revolution. Yours is not to explain. Yours is to remember.”

As Noluntu left, the sky split with thunder. A storm rolled over the city like a rebuke, washing the pavements clean of their false holiness.


Yena Aya Kwini

Zanele*

Friendship is important. Individuality and independence is important too. Growing up, my church instilled values of aspiration to marriage. I have come to appreciate the idea of platonic soul mates.

What are your thoughts on ‘it will end in tears’?

So what if it ends?

And your thoughts on closure?

In my experience the idea of closure has not been useful. You cannot force the other person to care.

*not her real name

Chapter IV | The Covenant of the Forgotten


The newspapers called it another electrical fault. But Noluntu knew better. She recognized the scent in the ashes—the same blend of frankincense and cedar that had marked the first fire. The book had survived again. Only this time, it opened to a page she had never seen before. The ink glowed faintly, as if wet:

“The witch and the warrior are one flesh.
The priestess and the planner are one mind.
When the daughters of Zion remember,
the nations shall tremble.”



That night, she sat by her window, watching the city breathe. Helicopters blinked like angels trapped in their patrols. A group of teenagers filmed a ritual dance under the bridge, fusing old Xhosa chants with synthesized beats. Across the street, a billboard flickered with the words: “Africa Rising—Invest in the Future.

She laughed bitterly. Rising? The continent had been rising for decades, yet its children were still crawling.

But something stirred in her. A knowing. Her parents had once said, “Revolution begins in remembering.” Perhaps this book was not madness, but a map.

As she turned the pages, she found an unfamiliar symbol—a seven-pointed star woven with serpents. The symbol of The Ring. Beneath it, a line written in her own handwriting:
“Blood remembers blood.”



And in that moment, the city lights dimmed. The air thickened with the presence of unseen witnesses. Noluntu felt her pulse align with something older, something divine. The veil between worlds trembled.

In the reflection of the window, she saw herself—but not herself. Another version, wearing white robes, her eyes alight with knowing. The other her spoke without moving her lips:
“The time has come. Africa will not rise by economics or war, but by revelation.”

Then the reflection faded.
And Noluntu, shaking, began to write.