The anti-taxi protests culminated in the storming of Parliament in Nairobi. Over 41 people, mostly young, were killed by police. Several hundreds were injured, property destroyed, and billions of shillings lost.

The riots are taking place against a backdrop of an economy on the edge, following decades of mismanagement and corruption in government, a debt binge, and a shilling under inflationary pressure.

The country was barely recovering from drought — a result of climate change that had depressed agricultural output and pushed up food prices amid scarce jobs for thousands of fresh college and university graduates. An astonishing 67 percent of Kenyans younger than 34 lack jobs. Real incomes are in decline, strangled by a stagnating economy.

The quality of public services — especially in education and health — had deteriorated for years, even before President William Ruto came into office. There is a general erosion of the social contract between government and the governed.

The riots were precipitated by the Finance Bill 2024, which contained a raft of tax increases and fueled public perception that it was written in Washington by the International Monetary Fund as part of Kenya’s fiscal consolidation program. For many, the bill demonstrated the limits of relying on apolitical technical support in policy-making, which approaches the economy as merely an accounting issue and fails to approach it as an intricate political economy question.

On July 11, President Ruto sacked all but one of his cabinet secretaries, following weeks of protests. He has also dropped budgetary support toward the office of his wife, Rachel Ruto, and that of his deputy’s wife, Pastor Dorcas Rigathi. He has yielded to pressure from young Kenyans, commonly known as Gen Z, who continue to protest extravagance and the lack of accountability from government.

Before the riots, Anglican Archbishop Jackson Ole Sapit had petitioned Parliament to scrap punitive taxes that directly affect the poor and vulnerable. He implored the relevant Parliamentary committee to do away with proposed taxes on bread, cooking oil, altar wine, diapers, sanitary pads, and medical dressings, among other goods.

“Additional tax burdens will push more people into extreme poverty, widening existing inequalities and entrenching vulnerabilities,” the archbishop urged.

Similarly, the Kenya Conference of Catholic Bishops appealed to the government to reconsider the proposed taxation. The conference quoted Zechariah 7:10: “do not oppress the widow or the orphan, the stranger or the poor; do not devise evil in your hearts against one another.”

The Catholic bishops added, “It is our view that the Finance Bill 2024, if passed in its current form, will be oppressive and cause untold suffering among Kenyans.”

Despite these appeals from the leadership of two of Kenya’s single largest churches, the government passed the bill in Parliament, followed by riots across the country.

In the 1980s and ’90s, religious groups across Kenya played a constructive and important role in developing a broad-based movement for constitutional change. Without them, reforms would have been limited to politicians and legal professionals. Religious groups ensured that it was an inclusive and broad-based process.

Despite churches’ role in calling for people-friendly policies, they have been roundly condemned as being part of the problem. Youth have developed a hashtag — #occupychurch — meant to stem co-option of churches into mismanagement of stolen wealth by politicians who frequent sanctuaries and publicly donate money to support assorted projects. Youth also argue that the voice of the church has not been prophetic against ills of the political elite.

Many youth believe churches are as enmeshed in abusing Kenya’s public resources. They believe churches have become discredited as willing recipients of looted public resources in fundraisers and lacking an overarching ideology of empire.

In some ways, a 19th-century missionary logic of mission focused on capturing the native. Part of the strategy hinged on building schools, hospitals, and health centers and creating spaces for encounter and conversion. This missionary approach lingers today, with many churches investing in mega-capital projects, supposedly to support the work of ministry. To raise money for these projects, a symbiotic relationship has ensued between politicians and clergy. Political leaders have taken seriously the religious platform, applying it to considerable effect. In this scheme, the prophetic voice of the church has been compromised.

It is time churches redefined their roles in putting the government on its toes in the delivery of social goods and services.

Today’s discourse raises important questions about the relationship between mission and empire in Africa. It also shows the limitation of religious engagement in the public sphere, how religious groups could easily slip into another mode of engagement: sectarianism.

In a message to the nation of Kenya released to the press on July 19, following a house of bishops meeting of July 18, Anglican bishops announced ‘We repent of all our shortcomings and commit to always against sin and evils of all kinds”.

This pronouncement provides religious leaders, and all Christians and people of good will with an opportunity for renaissance in their mission of prophetic witness and civic duty, now belittled by so many.

The East African Balokole (saved ones) has been described as Africa’s foremost conversionist and revival movement within Protestant churches. The Christian conversion movement started in northern Rwanda and southern Uganda in 1929 as a response to what was perceived as the deadness and decay of conventional religion, associated with the missionary church. It sought to bring vigor to Christian life.

I approach the East Revival Fellowship as a lived reality, and my Christian journey has been influenced, to a significant extent, by this movement. As a little boy attending Sunday school at St. Paul’s Parish in Lubinu, western Kenya, I grew up observing and listening to the singing by Tukutendereza (We praise Jesus), as members of the movement are referred to in my context. My turning point as a Christian, at age 19, involved a personal appropriation of the Christian message to my life. Although I was all by myself, walking along a little dusty path in my village, the conviction that I needed to begin a new journey with the Lord overwhelmed me.

On the Sunday after my conversion, I turned up at the local church in Mumias and publicly testified that I had been saved by the Lord. Since then, repentance, confession, and fellowship have preoccupied my mind and ministry, despite my many inadequacies. Today, our diocese hosts monthly revival gatherings in our open-air garden. Many parishes across the diocese have smaller groups of members of the East African revival meeting regularly for prayer. Many of our most dedicated Christians, including canons in our diocese, are members of the revival fellowship. While composed mostly of Anglicans, the movement encompasses Presbyterian, Methodist, Reformed and African Inland churches, varied Pentecostal groups, and African-initiated churches.

From the mid-1940s through the late 1970s, the revival expanded well beyond East Africa as teams of African leaders carried the message to an international audience, from Brazil to Asia. Thus, the revival has influenced Christian public expression well beyond East and Central Africa, shaping spirituality and social discourse at the international level. It maintained momentum into the 1990s and remains a remarkable influence on language, personal morality, and spiritual practice across different denominations.

Experiencing Revival in Mumias

On the morning of the fellowship, hundreds arrived in groups, hired buses, and some personal cars. Most arrived by public transport, while others walked to the venue. Several walked with difficulty, a sign of aging and its accompanying challenges. I was delighted to see over 30 young people, recent converts to the movement, following a meeting in Malaba, near the border of Kenya and Uganda. They gathered for their new year’s thanksgiving meeting at an open field in Mumias, the center of revival meetings in western Kenya.

The excitement and sense of fellowship was palpable — plenty of hugs among brothers and sisters, with their signature greeting Tukutendereza (Praise Jesus), which pervades interpersonal encounters. It is expected that upon testifying, one will close with the phrase. It signifies total surrender to the lordship of Jesus and is deeply embedded in the ethos of adherents, functioning as a rubric for everything they do or say. On this day, the brothers and sisters gathered may have numbered over 700, representing different regions of western Kenya.

They were from Bungoma, Butere, Katakwa, Kakamega, Mumias, Nambale — from all over the larger western region. This was the first of three huge meetings that they would hold in this new year. There would be smaller and more regular meetings in local churches, sometimes in each other’s homes, akin to the early church in Acts. They gather weekly, sometimes even monthly.

The leadership of the revival, a smaller team of about 15 people, had spent the previous evening at our diocesan guest house, listening to testimonies and the Word of God and planning for the larger meeting that would follow. The Rt. Rev. John Okude of the Diocese of Katakwa, also a child of the revival, was among them. He would be among the three main preachers during the three-hour meeting on the day that followed. I was delighted to welcome him as a friend who has invited me to his diocese.

Lay Leadership

The movement is largely a lay-led fellowship characterized by an ethos of public confession, repentance, and testimonials. Without any formal training in religious sciences, the preachers’ claim to authority is based on their claim to conversion experiences and their ability to expound biblical texts.

I listened to three sermons from around 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. Because it was the beginning of a new year, they chose to reflect on Psalm 116, focusing specifically on the theme of gratitude to God. Each sermon ended with the signature Tukutendereza song, accompanied by spontaneous lifting of hands, and an extensive testimony from a member. Some had been saved for the last 50 or 60 years. Others were more recent converts, especially the youth.

This year’s major events were announced, including a meeting in Mumias on April 27. There would also be a mission to the far-flung Lodwah Town in Turkana County, north of Kenya. Some of the planned meetings will be held outside Western Kenya, including a huge East Africa Convention on August 15-18.

The meeting was organized in this sequence: a song, testimonials, a first sermon, extensive testimony, a second sermon, more testimony, and a third sermon, and more testimony.

There was a moment of introducing over 30 young people who had recently accepted Jesus as their Savior at a meeting in Malaba. Some wore jeans, ordinarily anathema among the revival brethren. Some women had plaited hair, once disallowed in the revival ethos, as it was seen as embodying worldliness and violating biblical verses about modesty (1 Tim. 2). But these were new converts and they were excused; they will be mentored along the way in the proper ethos of the fellowship: not to plait their hair, not to keep a beard, not to keep long and painted nails, not to drink alcohol, but to live in sobriety in the honor of the Lord.

The testimonies were specific and spoke to the sinful past of the speakers. “Jesus found me when I had no respect for my parents.” “I had dropped out of school for no good reason.” “Many will discourage you, but I will walk with Jesus.” “I will not wear a trouser.” “I will not plait my hair.” A young convert told of how he engaged in acts of violence in school before being saved, to the extent of breaking his classmate’s hand during a fight. “I was a thief and a fornicator.” Others spoke of having harbored suicidal thoughts and even attempting suicide, until the Lord spoke to them miraculously.

Another member spoke of how he took pride in his parents’ salvation, until the Lord taught him that salvation had to be gained individually. Within the movement, individual appropriation of the Christian faith remains a strong emphasis, in a context where faith faces the danger of mere cultural relevance. The person giving his testimony said the biblical text that moved him was “The person who sins shall die” (Ezek. 18:20).

In their testimonies, some invoked the names of revival luminaries like the late Ugandan Bishop Festo Kivengere citing their important mentorship. While the revival is largely a lay-led movement, spiritual mentorship is highly valued and those who came to the Lord earlier and remain faithful are much valued.

There were moments of public repentance of more recent sins in the lives of the brethren, such as  fear, and a poor commitment to meeting in fellowship groups.

The songs were not the usual hymns. They had been composed over the years, through the fellowships of the East Africa Revival. The blood of the lamb was a common theme in the singing.

Epilogue

The East Africa Revival is a post-colonial expression of the Christian faith. As the revival spread under African impetus and leadership, it creatively melded with African tradition. Under independent lay initiatives within the mission churches, it formed communities of prayer and fellowship that focused on repentance, public confession, testimony, and restitution. It comes from the heart and finds expression in the personal encounters of converts with the Lord.

In this sense, the movement plays an important role in encouraging Christian fervor among adherents. Its hymns are not those inherited from the past. They are composed based on personal encounters with the Lord and varied experiences. Most can be sung spontaneously, signifying how deeply embedded they are in the life stories of converts. While the movement has clear leadership structures, it endeavors to exemplify egalitarianism. All are sisters and brothers in the Lord. It could be approached as a protest against hierarchical ecclesiology to a centralized association unified through its ethos of conversion and personal spiritual encounter. The revival breaks down tribal and political barriers, providing new opportunities for fellowship.

In this lay movement, a variety of people find a new life in Christ in the fellowship. The revival represents a recovery of the indigenous structures of the church, such as fellowship, brotherhood and sisterhood, and sharing.

The revivalists engage in radical acts of self-examination, a deep sense of our human sinfulness, evident in their testimonies.

The accommodation of young people that have not been fully integrated as evidenced by their difference in hair style may be a recent development and an indicator of the movement’s desire to reach young people. But clearly, much more needs to be done to pass on this wonderful Christian heritage to future generations.

The central place of the Bible in the movement is unassailable. Three sermons within three hours is not a small thing, without difficult exegetical questions, but the Word of God plainly speaks to the world. The sermons are given by lay people. Such open accessibility to religious texts has enabled people who have not studied theology to actively participate in teaching the Word of God.

The movement serves an important pastoral role, prayers for all members in need — the sick, bereaved, poor, and so on. But it also goes beyond prayer to practical interventions in the struggles its members face.

To some, the revival tends to be legalistic which puts off segments of potential adherents.

To the vast majority of devoted Christians, it is a bulwark against the coldness and maintenance mode of ministry in many of our churches, and a vanguard against growing secularism. They pride themselves on being a revival within the church that has no desire to break away. This desire is also evidenced in their relationship with clergy and bishops, who more often than not would be acknowledged respectfully and welcomed to sit in front of the rest. Their gathering is an extension of the churches, to which they already belong.

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body — Jews or Greeks, slaves or free — and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.
—1 Corinthians 12:12-13

Corinth was a really wealthy and socially diverse city. Perhaps it was much like any big city in the United States, maybe Dallas. In Corinth, there were people with much wealth and power. But it also had those on the margins, “of no regard” in the eyes of that society. As the apostle Paul indicates, there were Jews and Greeks, slaves and free.

The community at Corinth was, thus, a reflection of the diversity of the city. In this context, Paul appeals: “Just as the body is one and has many parts, but all its many parts from one body, so it is with Christ” (v. 12). Essentially, Paul is reminding the ekklesia, diverse as they may be, that “in Christ they are one.” Paul borrows a stock metaphor from ancient Roman politics, comparing the body politic to a human body.

In Latin literature, the metaphor was used by the elite to persuade the poor to sacrifice their bodies for the sake of the whole, headed by the wealthy and powerful. Paul’s use of the metaphor is radically different. He decolonizes the metaphor from imperial usage and argues for an egalitarian spirit among the members of the body politic, such that the ostensibly superior do not claim greater honor, while the inferior receive greater honor for their indispensability.

Like the community at Corinth, our natural tendency is to congregate with people who are like us. Our social networks very much reflect our outlook. We find it easier to trust people whose life experiences are like ours. With such people, communication tends to be more natural.

For this reason, it might be that not many of our churches convey the ethnic, social, and economic diversity of our neighborhoods. Some of our churches reflect the hidden lines that divide our communities.

In Africa, especially in rich neighborhoods, large numbers of people are employed in domestic service. At one of our Cathedrals in Kenya, where I served as attached clergy around 2001, there was this particular worship service that stood out among all the rest. It was attended mainly by domestic workers — the cleaners, baby sitters, and drivers in the rich suburbs of Nairobi. The service was conducted in Swahili, our national language. However, there was an earlier-morning service was attended by the kind of people who employed them, and was run in English.

In this text, the apostle Paul offers something richer: since the church is meant to be a foretaste of the final reconciliation of all things that God promises, it should start acting in that way. It must reveal the future reality as clearly as possible. This is an important part of witness to the gospel — that diversity within the Church or society is not a problem to be avoided, solved or managed, but a gift of God’s grace and a sign of the Spirit of Pentecost, when people from different nations were gathered, spoke in their own tongue, lived in their own custom.

It is the late Kenyan Anglican and scholar of African traditional religions, John Mbiti, who reminded us so compellingly that a person’s humanity flourishes in relation to the other. Thus, he stated, “I am because we are,” and “Because we are, therefore I am.”

When we have been baptized and professed our faith in Jesus’ death and resurrection for the forgiveness of sins, we are ushered into a new life in Christ, a life of being one in Christ. In the whole of chapter 12 of 1 Corinthians, Paul reminds us that Christians find their common identity in baptism (vv. 12-13). In baptism, you and I overcome the divisions that the powers of this world nurture and by which they are sustained (cf. Colossians 2 on the dividing wall of hostility).

Paul writes to a community in which members were competing against each other based on their culturally defined values. Some were weaponizing the variety of gifts God had given them, instead of deploying them for the common good.

The gifts of the Spirit, Paul says, are like the functions carried out by different parts of the human body — the parts are interconnected, but they also should be operating at the direction of the most important part, the head, which directs and harmonizes their common work.

Being diverse yet members of one body speaks to our interdependence as God’s family. God has given my wife, Brenda, and I three beautiful children, all now teenagers. They all have different gifts, but we love and cherish all of them. The human body is an intricate and interconnected wonder. There are whole systems in place, like the nervous and respiratory systems, and different parts of the body and organs interact to accomplish specific tasks, often without our knowledge.

The idea of body brings to mind a living reality. The church is a living body, which acts and walks in history. And this body has a head — his name is Jesus — who guides, nourishes, and sustains the body. So the church needs to remain connected to Jesus in an increasingly intense way for him to empower us, through daily prayer, listening to his word, having fellowship with one another, and receiving the sacraments.

The problem is that the body of Corinth was not working in unity. Some people competed with each other over gifts. Some underestimated their colleagues’ gifts, others overvalued their gifts.

The Corinthian letters, in certain respects, can be anti-imperial and decolonial in the way they depict an alternative society as a counter society, a Christian egalitarianism different from the normative Roman society. Isn’t an alternative ordering of society what we earnestly need today?

The words and vision of “mutual responsibility and interdependence” are beautiful. The phrase is derived from the Toronto Anglican Congress of 1963, and the powerful effect it had on the development of the Communion — it meant a transition from a colonialist system to one in which local leaders would be recognized and given authority. It led to the creation of new structures for coordinating mission and holding one another accountable. The dramatic growth of the Church in East and West Africa is partly a result of this language.

Just as in the days of the Corinthian church, this epistle comes to us in the context of a vulnerable human story. This vulnerability is seen in global notions of isolation and security, based on resources, social status, custom, and so forth. It explains how our sinful normativity ought to be decolonized.

Our vulnerability is evident in our beloved Anglican Communion, continuously hurting over disagreements. There are sincere disagreements about matters of sexuality and marriage. There also seems to be a spirit of competition and impatience with one another, a lack of mutual trust, a fear of being stretched to understand these questions from the perspective of the other.

Yet Paul’s letter is an invitation to embrace and to fulfill our interconnectedness. The kind of community that Paul envisions is one in which everyone needs everyone. Gifts given to one are given to be shared with all: a community in which your loss or failure is mine and your healing and prosperity is mine as well. Essentially, Paul is talking about a Christian community in which no one is forgotten. No one is deprived, and the knowledge of God becomes concrete and real, not just as a program of action but as something deeply, fundamentally affecting everyone.

It might be helpful for the church in Dallas, and back in Kenya, to begin asking: What in our context corresponds to the culturally divided pairs mentioned in verse 13? In penitent response, we need to reach out to one another, across our divisions, and in doing so inspire greater creativity and earnestness in our local mission. We can help one another learn how to do this better.

The world in which we live, and which we are called to love and serve, even with its contradictions, demands that the church strengthen cooperation in all areas of her mission.

The notion of mutual responsibility and interdependence is not without risks.

The first is formalism. It could be reduced to an extraordinary event, but only externally, like admiring the beauty of a cathedral without getting inside. If we would speak of mutual responsibility and interdependence in a manner that is incarnational, we need content, means, and structures that can enable dialogue and interaction within the wider family of God. But we also need to name our role in the power games of this world and its damage to God’s household.

A second risk is intellectualism, turning reality into abstraction, a study group offering learned but abstract approaches to the problems of the world, without great depth and spiritual insight. We need to ask ourselves: Who do we really feel with? Are we really immersed in the life of the body? May I invite those you who are able to consider visiting the Diocese of Mumias, to learn from our context, just as I have come to learn from yours.

The example of Christ in creating the deepest unity of the body is seen in his embrace without reservation of the appalling suffering, the helplessness and voicelessness, to infuse into it his own compassion.

The end result of the body metaphor in Paul’s hands is not the same old hierarchy, or even the inverse of that culturally expected pattern of domination with new people placed at the top, but a deep unity of the whole body, with each part cared for by the others. Christ creates a better way of life together.

At Pentecost there was renewed mutual responsibility and interdependence, a foretaste of the great new thing God is doing in Christ. May we all be open to this invitation to fellowship and greater interdependence.

The global revival of faiths is now a well-discussed phenomenon in religious studies. Today, these processes appear in various forms worldwide and are caused by a variety of factors. The social impact of this new religious vitality gives rise to competition for public space in which religions are now engaged with each other, and with the secular society.

The present awakening of various religions and their demand for presence and recognition in the public sphere defies earlier assumptions that enlightenment and modernization would eventually relegate religion to the private sphere.

Although Kenya is a secular state with constitutionally enshrined freedom of worship, religion continues to be present in the public sphere, functioning as a key framework for communal life.

Today, it is a common sight to find street preachers engaged in open-air rallies in Mumias, Western Kenya, posters on walls of buildings, and music with religious messages booming through public-address systems in public spaces. The Muslim call to prayer and outreach and revival night vigils are a common phenomenon in Mumias.

Thus, in Mumias, religious diversity is manifest in various ways and Muslims and Christians exist cheek by jowl, mutually affecting and influencing each other in manifold ways.

In many African societies, members of the same household belong to various strands of Christianity and Islam without conflict or contradiction. Christians cooperate with Muslims in trade, education, health, and politics, among other realms.

Undoubtedly, Christians and Muslims also compete for adherents. Sometimes, such competition takes violent twists, forcing the intervention of law enforcement.

Since the 1980s, this claim on the public space by religious actors is remarkably strong in East Africa.

To illustrate, religious leaders in East Africa in general and Kenya in particular played a critical role in demanding a new democratic dispensation from the 1990s.

During this period, individual religious leaders and civil society, with support from the international community, led the movement to demand the introduction of multiparty democracy and a new constitution.

This reflection, therefore, examines how faith actors could engage in dialogue with each other in order to contribute to global peace and harmony. I speak as a Christian leader serving in a region with a strong Islamic presence.

The importance of building relationships with members of other faiths is based on some premises: They are our neighbors, coworkers, and sometimes relatives. They are fellow human beings and fellow citizens. Relationships are essential for general social well-being. As Christians, we want to share our faith, but this can only be done in the context of positive relations.

We have some examples from the Bible that we could emulate in developing coexistence. In Romans 12:18, Paul writes: “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” Paul’s context is pagan, pluralistic, and sometimes anti-Christian. Similarly in our plural contexts, we must learn to live together with our differences. Sometimes we must seek compromise and look for ways in which we can work together for mutual benefit.

Building interfaith dialogue also enhances the offering of a respectful Christian witness. In Acts 17:16-34, we find Paul’s Christian witness in Athens. He learned about the context by walking around, observing their pagan religion. He also engaged in friendly conversation and responded to their invitation to speak.

In engaging in interfaith conversations, we must strive to look for common ground. Paul noted that the Athenians were “religious” and worshipped “an unknown god,” as he quoted from their poets. We should also affirm our common beliefs about God, Jesus, and ethics, and avoid getting tied down by controversial topics. However, we must also speak the truth in love (Eph. 4:15). Paul shared the gospel, giving new and strange information, but building on familiar concepts (e.g., “We are his offspring”).

In our religiously diverse communities, fostering dialogue is a must.  We must exercise the qualities of patience, perseverance, passion, and prayer.

Decades of conflict within the global Anglican family are contributing to shifting Anglican identities.

A recent virtual meeting of the Anglican Church of Kenya’s House of Bishops “noted with concern the Church of England’s departure from the traditional Christian teachings on marriage.”

It also took note of the LGBTQ movement in Kenya, arising from a February decision by the Supreme Court of Kenya to allow the registration of a gay lobby group.

Consequently, the House of Bishops has established a working committee of four bishops to:

• Seek to strengthen ties with associations and movements such as the Global Anglican Future Conference, the Council of Anglican Provinces of Africa, and the Global South Fellowship of Churches, which are of like mind with ACK in matters of faith and doctrine.
• Develop a position paper on how to relate to churches and/or provinces that have departed from traditional Christian teachings, but without relinquishing our rightful place in the Communion.
• Develop a position paper to guide the ACK’s response to LGBTQ issues with clear theological, biblical, sociological, psychological, and cultural bases.

The vast majority of Anglicans and even non-Christians in Kenya are shocked at the recent developments in our mother Church of England in allowing the blessing of same-sex relations.

The response of the church’s leadership and the country’s other leaders — including President William Ruto to the Supreme Court’s ruling — has been unequivocal in its condemnation.

While the ACK is an autonomous province, its filial affinity to the Church of England has been unassailable. Both old and young Anglicans identify with the Church of England, with a deep sense of gratitude for the Church of England’s mission in the past. Many Anglican dioceses in Kenya are in varied partnerships with dioceses in the Church of England, and other members of the Anglican Communion. Most desire to remain in communion.

The terms of reference for the bishops’ working committee clearly express this desire to remain in the Anglican Communion.

Yet, in the face of recent developments in the Church of England, this historical relationship is challenged. It is far from a “stable self with a package of unchanging values,” but rather is continually in transition.

In Kenya’s multireligious and multicultural context, the debate has taken an interfaith and intrafaith dimension: Anglican Christians are in dialogue with one another, but also engaged with members of other religious traditions, such as Muslims and African indigenous religions.

At a recent open-air thanksgiving public church service attended by hundreds of Anglicans and non-Christians in the Diocese of Katakwa in western Kenya, which I attended, a Muslim imam lauded Archbishop Jackson Ole Sapit for his strong condemnation of blessing same-sex relations. The governor for Busia County, Paul Otuoma — a Roman Catholic — similarly criticized pro-gay movements, saying that they contravened African culture and God’s laws of nature.

Lambeth Resolution I.10 on Human Sexuality recognized the existence of “persons who experience themselves as having a homosexual orientation,” seeking pastoral care within the Church.

While there are strong voices in the Church in defense of its traditional teaching on sexuality and marriage, unlike developments in the West, there is a deafening silence, even resistance, against any pastoral provisions for those who may be in same-sex relations. Because of the community stigma associated with same-sex relations, those in the Church who have some pastoral concerns choose to remain silent.

Our cultural situation is complex, as a few episodes can illustrate. In 2019, an LGTBQ activist planted a flag on Mount Kenya, Kenya’s highest mountain, and the second-highest mountain in Africa, after Kilimanjaro. The activist did this, ostensibly, to give symbolic voice to gay issues in Kenya.

Under the banner Booi wa Kirira kia Mugikuyu, loosely translated as “the convention for Gikuyu culture,” a rival group mobilized funds to scale the mountain and remove the flag. This group also performed Gikuyu indigenous cleansing rites, led by the tribe’s elders. The Gikuyu are Kenya’s largest ethnic community.

On January 6, Edwin Kiprotich Chiloba, a gay-rights activist, was found dead. Police reported that he had been strangled and his body stuffed in a metal box. As of now it is unclear whether there is a connection between his sexuality and his murder, but it has been suggested.

The bishops’ working group, and indeed the entire leadership of the church, ought to seriously and prayerfully consider pastoral interventions for violations of every kind to a section of the household of God, as part of our Christian vocation.

In Kenya, the debate is not just among Anglicans or even Christians. It concerns members of other faiths and government. The debate shapes how Anglicans are perceived and relate with members of other faith traditions.

The Diocese of Mumias, where I serve as bishop, is located in a region with some of the oldest presence of Islam in Kenya’s interior. Muslims are our neighbors in our daily interactions, and mosques dot our landscape. What happens in the Anglican Community, directly or indirectly, affects our relations.

Religious and cultural pluralism continue to be important in the political discourse on the LGTBQ community.

In all cases, one can see how agency plays out by both Christians and non-Christians, the community, and cultural activists.

Clearly, the Anglican Church of Kenya desires to retain its membership within the Anglican Communion, as expressed in the terms of reference during the House of Bishops’ meeting. However, in this continued belonging, the ACK is also clear that it will “maintain its inherited doctrine on marriage.” In reinforcing this position, the ACK seeks to associate more and more with like-minded associations.

From the drafting of the terms of reference for the bishops’ working group, I see some clear contours emerging. First, I envision a growing relationship of differentiation in the ACK’s relationship with the wider Anglican Communion. This differentiation may be seen as a calling in the present circumstances. Yet this emerging differentiation seeks to maintain, with gratitude, cherished historical links to the wider Anglican family.

Second, the discernment process could be seen as a statement against powerful homogenizing tendencies, currently emerging from within and without the church but also increasingly appropriated locally.

Finally, the debate illustrates how people and groups behave and construct their identities, demanding an opportunity to thrive without disconnecting from the global family.

The decision by the House of Bishops to seek clarity on how it will relate within the larger Anglican Communion is part of this continuing journey to seek creative responses on shifting Anglican identities in a rapidly transforming global cultural context.