Zulu Pastor Vs. Witchdoctors -3

by Robert R. Schwarz

( Mr. Schwarz is a retired newspaper editor who has made several trips to Africa. This is his second contribution to "Reclaiming Our Heritage ." )

( last of  three  parts)

News of the  exorcism did spread fast. Two Sundays later , the Rev. Khumalo's church was crowded for the first time. The  all-Zulu congregation, however, demanded a  combative show-down, a winner-take-all contest  before it would exalt Jesus over  its revered witchdoctors. Many Zulus in the region had parents and grandparents who had been antagonized by former Christian missionaries  who had coerced them into joining  a  church by implying this was the only way to get their children into the highly-desired  missionary schools.

The  Rev. Khumalo scanned the pews and saw nothing but confusion on the  faces of all his God-seeking people; they were finding it difficult to renounce their primitive beliefs.

At our dinner party back in Arlington Heights, Illinois, I paused my report to  reminisce with  my friends about  the "popularity" of exorcism in the l960s and 70s. I told them how Dr. Lochhaus had cited to me several requests from Lutheran pastors  in the United States asking for advice  in ministering to  people suspected of being demon-possessed.  "He turned them down but advised them how to set up the exorcism," I said, and then quoted Dr. Lochhaus: "It's not the man who does it, but the Word of God." I added that according to Dr. Lochhaus, people in America who dabble in witchcraft can be influenced to the point of  being dominated by it. Sometimes  it's difficult to tell where the deadly dabbling  in Satanism or drug-taking leave off and demon possession begins, Dr. Lochhaus had  told me.  The Rev. Professor  Richard Muller, who has  taught systematic theology and world religions at the Rev.  Khumalo's  alma mater, Concordia Seminary, Fort Wayne, has  labeled demons and evil angels   as a "malignant spiritual force in the world,"  I told me friends.

On a particular Sunday, the Zulu pastor from his pulpit observed the agitated body language of several people in the pews; their movements became more animated  each time they heard the word "Jesus" spoken.  (Mandla later  explained to me: "People who believe in animism find  the church to be a good 'cover' for them. But when  people around  them begin  to pray in the name of Jesus, that's when the evil spirits begin to resist and reveal themselves.")

The body agitation incident foreshadowed the real showdown; it came during a revival meeting in the  nearby village of Nelspruit  while the Rev. Khumalo was preaching about the Good Shepherd (Psalm 23) . Fresh in his mind was the recent death of a  non-Christian  Zulu  who ostensibly died because  he believed in the power of a death curse, or ukuthakathaka. The centuries-old  imprecation had been laid on him by a revenge-seeking  villager who had   told him: "In  the spring , when trees blossom, you will fade."

Recalling one of  my several trips to Africa as a leadership workshop facilitator for Lions Clubs International, I told my friends it was common for some tribal men  to cast these spells on other men whom they suspected of  having adulterous affairs with their wives.

Suddenly,  a highly respected  Zulu witchdoctor marched up to the pastor's pulpit, turned to the congregation  and announced: "I have heard the word of God [from Psalm 23] and I want that Shepherd, too. But I have a problem. I am a sangoma. I want you, Mandla  Khumalo, to come to my house."

Silence, then excited whispers . People began asking each other how their evangelism  leader  would face this challenge. The pastor paused to think. Was  this sangoma  baiting him into a trap whereby  Khumalo's Christ  would, in the Zulu's biased eyes,  be proven weaker than their witchdoctor's magic? If that happened,  it would  likely  take decades for his ministry  to recover from the defeat. 

The flock in the tent, along with the still-standing sangoma, waited for their preacher to reply. The Rev. Khumalo accepted the witchdoctor's  challenge. The two men that same day would go to the sangoma's home.

Inside the sangoma's home, the Rev. Khumalo was repulsed by what he saw: small, dank  rooms  filled with  witchdoctor craft, animal skins and baboon heads and  oddly shaped pagan instruments which  even  Khumalo, a Zulu himself, could not identify.

"It must all be destroyed,"  the Rev. Khumalo insisted.

The pastor's eyes widened with astonishment as he watched the sangoma obediently  carry an armful of the objects  to the backyard.  Khumalo did the same. When everything had been piled outside, the two men dug a hole, threw everything into it, and  set it ablaze while  several members of  Khumalo's  church watched.

Seeing the smoke from afar, families from various Zulu villages sped to the bewildering scene: Their esteemed and often feared witchdoctor was burning the very same objects that had once  done so much magic for himself  and them." They stood silently as the fire consumed their magic and, in some cases, their gods," the Rev. Khumalo told me.

The Zulus  who had followed their pastor from the crusade tent  began to sing the hymn,  "In the Name of Jesus I Have a Victory." The villagers listened in wonderment until the fire was  embers. Then they quietly retreated to their homes.

In the Rev. Khumalo's church the next Sunday there were many new faces—and the faces increased in number week after week. .

Today, with his son now a college graduate and his daughter soon to be, with an honorary doctorate degree from the Interdenominational Theological  Center in Johannesburg hanging  on his office wall, with 20,000 members that make up the 25 congregations of his St. Peter Evangelical Church of South Africa, and with a radio station and a program to educate teens about AIDS, the Rev. Khumalo simply explains: "When people hear the Gospel truth for the first time, their hearts become on fire."

I ended  my report at the dinner table with three scenes from my friend  Mandla's life: One is  him crawling up to a tribal chief  who had demanded this demeaning act  in exchange for  permission to evangelize  to chief's tribe ; another is Mandla as a youth, climbing up to a hill top with a friend and shouting out the Gospel message to the countryside below him—whether anyone heard him or not; and, my favorite, is the security guard standing outside my friend's church, you know, that fellow to whom everyone once bowed as their powerful sangoma.

_________Contact Robert Schwarz @rrschwarz7@comcast.net