The news of Archbishop Demond Tutu’s death knocked me sideways. I’m still not entirely sure why I found it so devastating, but in reading about him and his life since then, and devouring some of his books, I can see that this is a modern day saint who deserves our full attention. My New Year’s resolution is basically this: Be More Tutu.
I didn’t know loads about Desmond Tutu. The struggle against apartheid was very much on my radar as a teenager in the 80s; I remember where I was when Mandela was released from prison; I learnt about the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which Tutu chaired, on a theology course in my 20s; and that led to me reading his book on the subject, No Future Without Forgiveness. So he was definitely in the category of inspiring world leader, somewhere in the back of my mind. But it took his death, the outpouring of stories and quotes on social media, and then reading a couple more books, to realise how much he achieved and what he stood for.
What a life
For instance, I had no idea he ever said anything about cycling, still less something this funny. Thanks Janette Sadik-Khan (also something of a hero)!
Or that he was passionate about combatting climate change. He had called for economic sanctions to tackle it in the same way they were used to tackle apartheid. Given his passion for fighting injustice, this shouldn’t really be surprising.
I didn’t know that he was an outspoken supporter of LGBT+ rights. But that came across on Twitter and it turns out that he was fighting homophobia with the same conviction as he fought apartheid. This article documents his campaigning from the 1970s onwards. It may have been an issue close to his heart because his daughter Mpho (also an Anglican priest) is gay, with her proposal to her wife mentioned in The Book of Joy.
And I learnt about a dramatic moment during the anti-apartheid struggle, when he literally threw himself on top of a man who was about to be ‘necklaced’ as a traitor in a black township, saving his life. He chastised his own side as much as he did the white oppressors, reminding the public that the fight was not between black and white people but against an evil system. Then there’s the famous clip of him telling the ruling African National Congress- “I am warning you!” – that he’s about to start praying for their downfall as he did for the apartheid regime if they don’t get their act together. Fearless and terrifying!
And a heartbreaking clip has been doing the rounds, of Tutu slumped with his head on the table, sobbing, during a Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearing.
Also, I had no idea that he was best mates with the Dalai Lama, who he considered a holy man despite their different faiths. I’ve started reading The Book of Joy which they co-authored.
And then there were all the oppressed people that he spoke up for around the world. Was there any case of injustice he didn’t care about? He grieved with the Dalai Lama and the Tibetans in the exile from their homeland. He was friends with Aung Suu Kyi in Myanmar, and believed that democracy will one day triumph there. He stood up for Palestinians and, I’ve just discovered on Twitter, for the Baha’i people of Iran, who are denied an education. And no doubt many others.
What drove him?
We are created equal
Not many Christians would disagree with the idea that people are made in the image of God and are all equally precious to him. But I don’t know of many Christians who live and breathe it the way that Desmond Tutu did. It was the reason he was able to call out apartheid as heretical and blasphemous, because apartheid was founded on the idea that one kind of human life is less valuable than another. It was the reason he fought social injustice generally. And it wasn’t some kind of cerebral ideal for him but something that guided his daily relationships and interactions. He tells this story about Anglican priest Trevor Huddleston:
“I was standing with my mother outside the building where she was working at the time. I was nine or ten years old. She was a cook at Ezenzeleni, a facility for black blind women. We were enjoying the faint warmth of the winter sun when a white man in a long cassock swept past and doffed his hat to my mother. When it happened, I didn’t realise that it had made such an impression on me. But a white man doffing his hat to my mother, a black woman, in 1940s apartheid South Africa was an unbelievable gesture. I subsequently met him and discovered that he had a profound belief in the doctrine of creation. He truly believed that we are each equally created in the image of God. He lived as he believed. Conscience met action in a gesture of godly perfection. For him it was the most natural thing to do: doff his hat to another child of God.”
Desmond Tutu, in Made For Goodness
Couldn’t this describe Tutu’s own life? ‘He truly believed that we are each equally created in the image of God. He lived as he believed… For him it was the most natural thing to do.’ And for Tutu, the most natural things to do included throwing himself on the body of a man about to be lynched and publicly chastising a racist government.
At home in your own life
If each one of us is of inestimable value to God, that should change how we view ourselves too. The day I heard of Tutu’s death I downloaded and devoured his book Made For Goodness on my Kindle. Among other things he writes powerfully about self-acceptance. He talks about being ‘at home in your own life’ and gives the most wonderful example – his wife Leah. When they were living in London for Tutu’s training, with four young children in a small flat, they would sometimes invite their new friends – some of whom were landed aristocracy – over for a meal. Think about that from Leah’s point of view: a black woman on a low income, a foreigner in 1960s London, expected to make dinner and entertain high-status white people in your not very salubrious flat. I”d be bricking it. In fact, just the ‘entertain high-status people in your flat’ part would be stressful enough for me.
But Leah totally didn’t care. Tutu reports that on every occasion she cheerfully whipped up a generous African meal with the cheapest ingredients (they only kind they could afford) and happily welcomed the guests into her home.
“Our friends would squeeze into the available space and relish the repast as though it were sweeter than manna. We could not pretend at human perfection…but it was not the food or the place but the welcome that made the feast.”
Desmond Tutu, Made for Goodness
He goes on to say that in the years since then, entertaining everyone from priests to movie stars:
“Leah, at home in life as she is at home in the houses we have called home, welcomes each person with that brand of warmth and grace that can turn the most meagre meal into a feast.”
Desmond Tutu, Made for Goodness
That, my friends, is serious self-acceptance. We women are so stupidly prone to judging and piling expectations on ourselves. For some reason, the fear of people judging our homes and decor and cooking skills can still be an issue for many of us (or is just me?) as if it’s still the 1950s. Being ‘at home in our own lives’ is something everyone should aspire to, especially as it means you can love and welcome other people lavishly without worrying about how you’re measuring up.
Tutu says that God’s love and esteem are not based on anything we’ve done, good or bad, in the same way that a new parent’s overwhelming love for their newborn has nothing to do with the baby’s achievements. There are passages at the end of each chapter to read and meditate on. One of these is about imagining God looking down at us as if we’re a newborn he’s holding in his arms, with a gaze of total, unconditional love. I’m going to try it. Soon. Probably. When I have enough time and tissues to hand…
There is hope for the human race
The preface to Made for Goodness says, “though we sometimes act out of depravity and despair, we do know in our heart of hearts that we are not as we were meant to be, and were created to be so much more” – or as Tutu says in the first chapter: “we are all designed for goodness.” Tutu argues that since we are made in the image of God, goodness is our default mode, our warp and weft, our native country. The whole book is about how to realise that and ‘find our way home to goodness’ – by prayer, forgiveness, acceptance and learning to hear God’s voice.
I highly recommend this book to anyone wanting to take that journey. (In fact I’ve already bought three more copies to give away.) It’s not just about having hope for yourself, though, but for humanity. Commentators were struck by Tutu’s optimism during the brutal decades of apartheid. This book explains where that optimism came from. He once said, “I’m not an optimist, I’m a prisoner of hope.” He lived brimful of hope, expecting the power of goodness to triumph over evil, and for unjust regimes to ultimately fall. Given the institutionalised hatred and violence that he witnessed traumatising his own nation for so many years, it’s incredible to me that he was able to hold on to that hope. But he asserts that ours is a ‘moral universe’ and that ‘history bears out this assertion’.
“Yes, each generation has its share of dictators and despots, but each generation also sees the demise of tyrants and the overthrow of autocratic governments that seemed invincible…After all, who would have predicted the end of the Soviet Union, the birth of Namibia, peace in Northern Ireland or the dawn of democracy in South Africa? …As Dr Martin Luther King Jr. observed, “The arc of the universe is long but it bends towards justice.”
Desmond Tutu, Made for Goodness
I don’t know about you, but this is the lens through which I want to see the world. Knowing that ultimately, the oppression and injustice in any given situation will end is a great motivator to act and pray for justice, even if I don’t see those prayers answered in my lifetime.
Being more Tutu
I want to be a Desmond Tutu kind of Christian. To my mind, what marks him out as a great Christian leader is that he made himself heard by so many people outside the Christian community. His message was universal
So much of Jesus’ teaching was radical yet universal – love your neighbour, love your enemy, forgive those who hurt you, give without expecting anything in return, value the least and the last, lift up the poor. It speaks to all humans everywhere about how to be human. Then of course much of it was highly specific – he said that he alone was the way, the truth and the life – he alone was able to give his life as a sacrifice to open up the way back to Father God. The picture that comes to my mind is a fruit like a peach. The work of Jesus on the cross that brings us into relationship with him is like the life-giving seed right in the middle. Living a life of love that follows his teaching, on the other hand, is like the tasty flesh that takes shape all around that seed. Anyone could have a bite and find it satisfying without knowing anything about the seed.
As a Christian then I need both. Both the relationship at the core of my being, and the life of radical love that should be visible – and tasty, and satisfying – to those around me. I think as Christians we can focus on just one or the other. In the past I tended to think that sharing the gospel is the only thing we Christians have to offer the world. But if I keep holding out that same dry peach stone – just believe in Jesus – without the flesh of a transformed life of love around it, who’s going to want it? And how can I be whole?
Desmond Tutu’s life shows me that the Christian life is bigger and juicier than I ever realised, if I can put it like that. It’s about absorbing, living and breathing the values of a God who loves us beyond our understanding. It’s about truly believing with every fibre of our being that everyone is of inestimable value to God – including ourselves – and letting that shape our attitude to everything, from our closest family members to how we see our work, society, politics – the whole world.
I think that change can probably only happen through prayer. I’ve set myself a new prayer regime which I won’t bore you with the details of and will probably have petered out by February anyway, but meanwhile, I’m trying my best to be more Tutu.
now for the real thing 