Coming from anyone else other than Desmond Tutu, I might have rolled my eyes in both skepticism and more than a bit of irritation at the message of this chapter. I find myself encountering the message more as a kind of “prosperity Gospel,” power of positive thinking, “just look on the bright side of life” approach--to Christianity and life.
The key issue in the chapter is the thorny problem of suffering in the Christian life and Tutu works with a host of themes around the spiritual and theological question of suffering—from social moral aspects such as injustice and oppression, negative psychological and “soul” states like hate/anger, guilt and fear, moral behaviors like arrogance, and perhaps that most grievous aspect of suffering—death. Archbishop Tutu is nothing but ambitious at the least!
However, we often get some of the following which reminds one of Joel Osteen rather than a wise elder like Tutu-- one schooled in the fires of war, withering injustice, senseless cruelty, confronting choices which are anything but simplistic and naïve. For example, let us take this phrase on page 72: “In our Universe, suffering is often how we grow (!!), especially how we grow emotionally, spiritually and morally.”
Oh really? Suffering is often utterly meaningless, destructive, with no redeeming outcome.
Sometimes, in the words of friends who just lost their ten year old little boy to a senseless death-and are committed Christians: Sometimes, they told me: “Life just stinks!” Or let us this statement on page 75: “What is it that allows us to transform our suffering to transmute it? The answer is love!”
Well—sometimes this is patently false! Job never “transmuted” his suffering and gave God “hell” for it to the end; and, sometimes, many times, love is not enough to transform suffering into anything positive.
I have a parishioner who can’t forgive God, life, or anything else for a destructive event of a loved one but she hangs in there with God and battles and struggles. I like that. I like it that she does not get the Almighty off the hook and fights with Her or Him for truth. And, in my experience, some of the best theology and pastoral response is simply to leave suffering, particularly innocent suffering, a mystery and stand with others in the midst of it rather than offer rather simplistic and banal “answers” which skirt the fringes of truth like the above.
Reading the chapter reminds me of how personal and social context is so important to religious discourse—and, gulp (!),how the personal context of the preacher or write is so important to the credibility of the message. Generally, I am much more sympathetic to writers on the question of suffering who honor the negativity of existence and the lament tradition of the bible—and actually go so far as to hold God accountable for the bad stuff.
I prefer Eli Wisel’s Night, Abraham Heschel’s “pathos” and Dorothy Day’s anger and raw bitterness (and her compassion no doubt linked to the darkness) than to the mega-church “Every Day is a Friday” approach to life—even if it grows churches, brings in big money--and comforts the afflicted (with false hope in my opinion).
BUT—and this is a huge caveat with everything I have shared so far—Desmond Tutu “walks the talk” in attempting to find some meaning in even the worst of suffering—even if this whole approach to suffering does not work often, theologically or pastorally—in my experience.
I can take some of the approach of this chapter because I know it is true to Desmond Tutu’s heroism, leadership, courage and sustaining vision. If his optimistic and ever hopeful world-view is responsible for grounding the man who provided a key hammer tearing down the walls of apartheid and lead the reconciling, humane work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission—so be it.
The one area where I found myself riveted in chapter six with this “find joyful meaning” and “all you need is love” approach to suffering is in Tutu’s belief, so true to his life (Any of us who have heard Tutu speak know his joy and optimism is for real, is infectious and is moving enough to leave you breathless!)—that humor can help get you through just about anything! I also love the way that humor is tied to humility and the ability to laugh at oneself.
Wow! This is an area I need to learn from Tutu. Like many clergy, I need to laugh more, and take myself less seriously so much more often, get over myself more, and simply approach life with a much more playful tone. And, yes, those who have taught me much from their courage in the midst of suffering—often do approach it with humor and grace.
Here is one beautiful example of the playful side of Desmond Tutu; and this story, alone, for me, is worth the price of admission of the Chapter!
In the bad old days, I was helped to laugh at myself by those in South Africa who amused themselves with many jokes about yours truly, the one they most loved to hate. In those Tutu stories, I always came to a sticky end. At this time, according to the joke, President Reagan decided to come to South Africa to see how his constructive engagement policy was working. As he flew over Orange River in Air Force One, he saw a sight that warmed the cockles of his heart, for down there were South Africa’s foreign minister, Pik Botha and President P.W. Botha in a speedboat, pulling me on water skis! “Wonderful,” thought the U.S. President. Later he landed and greeted the Bothas effusively. President Reagan said, “What a tremendous thing—you and Bishop Tutu together like this.” Then, he flew off. Pik turned to P.W. said, “Nice man but he doesn’t know anything about crocodile hunting!” (pp. 83-84)Like so many of you—I just love this guy—admire this guy--would love to inherit “a double share” of his spirit in his courage, commitment, and leadership in the struggle for justice and peace. And, yes, sometimes even humor and joy fails in the course of suffering; but, man, is it worth the try!
Thank you, Archbishop Tutu—for provoking me and challenging me with your approach top suffering—but, above all, for giving me the smile and chuckle we often all need to make it out there……
The Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min.
Rector, All Saint’s Church, Princeton, New Jersey
