IN MEMORIAM: Desmond Tutu, D.D. ‘78
Photo by Sumaya Hisham
The Most Rev. Desmond Mpilo Tutu, D.D. Class of 1978, died on December 26, 2021 in Capetown, South Africa aged 90. The world mourns and many obituaries have been written for the cleric who was instrumental in bring down apartheid in South Africa and advocating for peace and reconciliation. General Seminary mourns a faithful servant and joy-filled friend who spread his sacred light on his many visits.
A meme posted by Mpho Tutu on social media told us: “Famous people die. It happens all the time. The news is full of the stories of their lives. They are somehow distant standing on well-deserved pedestals. When my Daddy died what came in floods were stories of personal encounters. Not a distant icon on a pedestal but a personal loss. It is such a comfort for my family and me to know that we do not mourn alone.” In that spirit, our memorial of Tutu is a simple collection of recollections from those who knew him and were blessed to encounter him on the Close.
First, from the Rev. Dr. Michael Battle, our Herbert Thompson Professor of Church & Society, Director of the Desmond Tutu Center, and author of Desmond Tutu: A Spiritual Biography of South Africa's Confessor a remembrance of his friend and mentor, and a challenge to live into his legacy:
Prof. Battle was ordained a priest by Archbishop Tutu in 1993.
"The church hasn't had very many positive examples of those who represent the church that are part of the solution. He was a part of so many different issues that are affecting the world negatively, and he's shown how a church leader can be somebody so profound that things change around him. One of the key things for him was that you have to understand what it means to be human. He’s famous for the concept ubuntu: “I am because you are, and because you are, I am”. He understood that about his enemies, that they are also a part of his identity. Tutu's brilliance and his genius was to tap into the core of spirituality, that God is not against anyone. In our contemporary days in which religion is used as an echo chamber, used in terms of beating people over the head, we're really going to miss the kinds of voices that show religion as a balm in Gilead -- a healing force. And so, I pray that people will step up in the legacy of Archbishop Tutu to show religion as a healing factor in the world." — Michael Battle on National Public Radio, 27 December 2021
Elizabeth Geitz ’93: “I’ll never forget the weekend he led a clergy retreat for us in the Diocese of NJ. After he preached at Trinity Cathedral, several of us were honored to have lunch with him and our bishop, George Councell. To my shock he asked to ride to lunch with me. I quickly threw several items into the backseat of my car and in he jumped. Well, to put it mildly I was completely flummoxed. Trying to make small talk, I made several wrong turns and ended up in an apartment parking lot! I finally pulled to the side and said, “Archbishop, I am so embarrassed. I make this trip every day, but I’ve gotten us lost!” He slapped his knee and just cackled. “That’s just like something my Leah would do,” he shared, immediately putting me at ease. He called me his “chaufeusse” for the rest of the weekend. A memory to treasure for a lifetime of a humble, loving, iconic, giant. Rest in peace, Arch. Rest In Peace and Rise in Glory.”
Cathie Caimano ’99: “When I was at The General Theological Seminary, Bp. Tutu was in residence for a semester. I had a wonderful dog, Larry Bob, who lived with me there, and Bp. Tutu would laugh with delight every time he saw her. LB, of course, was just as charmed to know someone so full of gentle light. Sometimes, when I was walking back to school through the streets of New York, I would spy Bp. Tutu also returning to campus, and it struck me that no one recognized him. He dressed casually, in chinos and polo shirts, he was diminutive in size, and busy New Yorkers would push right by, no one sparing this actual saint a second glance. We all show hospitality to angels without knowing it. That's what I learned from Bp. Tutu. May he rest in peace.”
Stephen Holton ‘88 and Archbishop Tutu in the chapel singing "Come thou Font of Every Blessing”. "I knew it was him from behind because of the Greek fisherman's cap (by his cane to the right), that I remembered from 1984 when I was getting my MDiv and he was on sabbatical. His best line in a sermon? He quoted an old seminary classmate who didn't study enough. At a surprise quiz in class, this young man was asked: "What did John the Baptist say to Jesus?" His answer: "Remember, you are the Son of God. Act like it!" Not a bad answer - for all of us.”
Robert Solon ’06, ’17: “So in 2005 at The General Theological Seminary I gave my senior sermon the day after Desmond Tutu preached. I opened by saying, “I should just say ‘what he said’ and sit down.”
Stephen Holton ’88, ’14: “Bishop Tutu used to get his morning coffee on the corner at Frankie's deli, at 20th St and 9th, along with most of the rest of the seminary community. This was in his sabbatical year, my Junior year, in 1984-85. When he came back to the City a few years later for an international meeting, there were two other people he made a point of visiting: Dean Fenhagen of the seminary, and Frankie.”
Elise Johnstone ’05: “What an amazing witness he has made for so many and for so long. He lived out the good news of Jesus Christ truly. I met him on his visits to General Seminary when I was a student and was blessed to serve as an acolyte when he preached my first year. He was as lovely in person as he is in his writings. I think our world is a bit closer to being the Kingdom of God through this disciple and his witness.”
Laurie Brock ’02: “A powerful witness of the Archbishop Tutu’s humility. He didn’t need pomp and circumstance. As always, he repeats his message of love.”
Ward Ewing ’67, Dean & President ’98-’10: “When he would visit at the Seminary, he would greet the students by asking them their name and then fold his hands and make a little bow to them. One student asked why he did that. He replied, “When I enter a church, I fold my hands and bow to the altar to acknowledge the sacred presence. When I meet someone, I also fold my hands and bow to them to acknowledge the sacred presence in the person.” I believe he saw the sacred in everyone, including those who continued to oppose equality and justice. We gave an honorary degree to Alex Boraine, Tutu’s assistant in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and Bishop Tutu came to place the hood over his head. At a buffet breakfast in the deanery for the honorary degree recipients I suddenly realized that the orange juice was on a table away from the other food and no one had gotten juice. As I jumped up to get the juice I saw that I was too late. The Arch had seen the problem and was pouring juice around the table. Even in small ways he lived the truth that “the first in the kingdom is the servant of all.” Thank you, Archbishop Tutu, for your life of joy, service, witness, and love.”
Renny Martin ’12: “Remembering that time a short priest in a big winter coat gave me an enormous hug during the Peace in the Chapel of the Good Shepherd. And I didn't realize until he was hugging someone else that he was Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Rest in peace; even at the grave we make our song Alleluia.”
Paula M. Jackson ’85: “In the '84-'85 year I once saw him in the front lobby of the seminary, taking time individually to greet each child from a local public school 3rd grade class, whose teachers had brought them to Chelsea Square to see the Nobel Peace Prize hero. Bishop Tutu took a few minutes to tell the group of children how important they are as God's children. Then one by one, lovingly bopped each one of them on the head with his rolled-up beret, saying ‘You are a very special person.’ --Every single one of about 30 children, and their teachers.”
Ken Chumbley ’86: “I was in a Christian ethics seminar when the bells of the Chapel of the Good Shepherd rang. And rang. And rang, as if heralding an epic event. History had been made, and soon we seminarians would know why. The Most Rev. Desmond Tutu, Archbishop and the seminary’s Visiting Professor of Anglican Studies for the 1984-1985 academic year, had received the Nobel Peace Prize in recognition of his non-violent opposition to apartheid, his government’s policy of racial separation and oppression. I often saw Bishop Tutu at meals in the refectory or on the close. I once shared an elevator with him, and we talked about the white South African author Alan Paton’s novel, ”Cry the Beloved Country,” which had been my introduction to apartheid many years earlier. Early mornings, with my deli coffee in hand and the New York Times under my arm, I would approach the seminary chapel, sometimes look inside, and there the bishop would be — alone, his hands clasped and raised to God in prayer before the white marble altar. I did not intrude on his time with God. During Trinity term 1985, I was a student in Bishop Tutu’s course, “The Church and the World.” In his lectures, often gesturing, his voice rising and falling for emphasis, he was more the eloquent prophet than the erudite professor, although his scholarly credentials were impressive. He knew the God of love personally and made God real for me. Listening to him, I could hear Amos, proclaiming, “Let justice roll down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream.” Bishop Tutu showed me what it meant to be a person of faith — to speak and act in divine love, striving to promote the flourishing of every human being. No exceptions. And even if doing so meant criticism and controversy. I concluded his course, certain that I would live my faith not only in a church’s pulpit and at its altar, but also in the public arena. Bishop Tutu, serious about his faith but not about himself, would often flash an impish grin as he joked and laughed while he lectured, even as he preached in the seminary’s otherwise solemn, hallowed chapel. The world is a better place because of the Most Rev. Desmond Tutu. May it be a better place —one of justice, freedom, peace — because of me, you and every person of faith. May he rest in peace and rise in glory.”
Stephen Holton ’88, ’14 and Mantelle Bradley ’96: “Once in a sermon he said: "If you were arrested for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?"
Tom Momberg '86: “For me, a particularly powerful life transformation began while I was a seminary student in New York City. One day, a bishop came to spend a sabbatical with us. His name: Desmond Tutu. I was in my mid-30’s, still newly married with a toddler in tow. Bishop Tutu taught a course while he was there, but the real learning was seeing him interact with children of all ages on campus. Each week he would visit the seminary day care center, where my son and the other children came to know his joyful, playful spirit. “Bishop Tutu! Bishop Tutu!” the children would cry out, whenever they saw him. There were other playful moments, many with adults, while this leader of the rainbow children of God spent some time with us. Bishop Tutu often visited Frankie, the owner of a corner “mom and pop” grocery where we could get, among other things, a delicious piece of “Frankie bread.” This was another kind of communion in which the seminary community shared. It took on new meaning whenever we caught a glimpse of Frankie and Desmond, sharing a can of something for lunch in the store’s back room. Then there was the day I happened to be in the front lobby of the seminary, enjoying my Manhattan breakfast (a bagel, cream cheese, and coffee “sweet and light”). Suddenly a man entered the building, in a ball cap, sunglasses, a Sony Walkman - and a T-shirt I had never seen before. It read, “A Woman’s Place is in the House…of Bishops.” At that time, no woman in the Anglican Communion was ordained to the episcopate. But no moment can compare with the day in 1984 when a Swedish ambassador arrived, looking for the newest Nobel Peace Prize winner. He carried roses, which he gave to the not-quite-yet-Archbishop Tutu. Then, we all processed into the seminary chapel, where we offered a service of praise and thanksgiving, while Peter Jennings and other news anchors waited on the lawn to interview this humble servant of God. Years later we watched an international news story on TV: Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela had just voted for the first time in South Africa. Apartheid had come to an official end. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which Archbishop Tutu chaired, had not begun. My son John looked at our TV screen and shouted, “I know that guy!” What a gift it had been, a decade earlier, to know Desmond Tutu just a wee bit. For a short time, in the person of Desmond, Jesus had moved into our neighborhood.
Philip C. Linder ’85: "In 1984, I was in my second year at the General Theological Seminary. This was as well the year that South African Bishop, Desmond Tutu, was on sabbatical at the seminary. And, it was as well the year that he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his opposition to South Africa’s brutal apartheid regime. As both he and his wife were leaving to head to the airport for Oslo, Norway, I was called upon to help carry their bags and hail them a NYC cab. He and his wife were incredibly kind. As they got into the cab, he smiled brightly and said thank you. He wanted to carry his own bags but did allow me to help! I was both honored and thrilled.”
Betsy Hooper ’87: “In the fall of 1984, when he was in residence at General Theological Seminary in NYC, my work-study job was cleaning his apartment weekly. My grandfather died that October, and on the day I returned from his funeral, the campus was abuzz with the news of his just-announced Nobel Peace Prize. As I stood talking with friends, he emerged from a building with dozens of photographers following him. I waved and called out my congratulations, at which point he excused himself and walked over to give me a hug and tell me that he was praying for my family. We spoke for a few moments, and then he returned to the rather puzzled press. On what was perhaps one of the greatest days in his life, he still saw my pain and stopped to reach out in love and care. An amazing model of humanity and ministry.”
Joy Carol ’98: “How we will miss the amazing Archbishop Desmond Tutu. When I was writing my book “Towers of Hope” where he was featured in one chapter, I asked him to proof what I had written. He then asked me to see the whole book. To my delight, he requested to write the blurb for the cover of the book. He also did that for my next book “Journeys of Courage.” His words: “Joy Carol tells so eloquently loving stories that inspire us and fill us with hope.” Thank you, dear friend. You will be in our hearts forever.”
Michael Durning ’87: “I was in my first year at GTS when Tutu won the Nobel. We had three children, the youngest an infant whom I carried in a backpack baby carrier. We happened to cross paths with him in the lobby. Tutu insisted on a game of “peek a boo” with the baby, with the resultant belly laughs from all involved. Our young son received Tutu’s undivided attention and I was struck with wonder, knowing the many pressing issues that must have taken his time.”
Anthony Charles Dinoto ’99: “Having returned to Chelsea Sq. to start my Middler Year in late August, I happened to stick my head into the Chapel of the Good Shepherd. Except for our beautiful white marble reredos, the entire chapel was in the dark. I spied our Chief Sacristan, Leslie Hague, working at the altar, I called up to her from the narthex: "Well, look what the cat dragged in!!!" Immediately, from a distance, I could see her 'shushing' me while at the same time frantically pointing to the darkened area of the faculty stalls. I assumed I must have disturbed someone in prayer in the chapel. I made haste to the tower room door. Just after I entered the tower room the "The Arch", Archbishop Desmond Tutu, came happily bursting into the tower room to exclaim, "Well, you can see that the "cat" will be dragging me out now!" with his signature hearty laugh as he made his exit!”
Denis O’Pray, Former Board Chair: “He was huge in reputation, but quite ordinary across the table from me in his Soweto home with his wife and children chattering. Apartheid was still the order of the day.The Nobel medal had not been awarded. The government continued to impugn his integrity. Yet his infectious chuckle invited me to step down from my high dudgeon about how he was being treated and to relax into the grace of this intimate moment. Tomorrow might demand something quite different from each of us, but this meal together demanded joy, and we shared it.”
(If you did not have the opportunity to share your recollection of Archbishop Tutu, please email alumni@gts.edu and we will add it to the post on the website)