Amid the grieving, let us uphold Tutu’s inspiring vision

The archbishop would not want us to mourn him excessively, but to keep his example of compassion, justice and love in the forefront of our lives

It’s always sad to say a final goodbye, all the more so when the farewell is for Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu. It is indeed a time of mourning, for his wife Mam Leah, for his four children, for all South Africans and for peace- and justiceloving people the world over.

His parting, his final act in a life lived to its fullest, hardly comes as a great surprise, given his age and that he’d been ill for some time. Which is why our grief should be tempered by our memories of the self-effacing, impish humour he brought to all occasions, no matter how grand.

No doubt, he’d have encouraged us to cheer up and move on, and not dwell in the indulgence of sadness. Though he has gone, the mission to which he was called is incomplete. There is still much to be done if SA is to become the country Tutu prayed for and worked for all his adult life.

Implicit in mourning Tutu should be the assumption that we as South Africans recommit ourselves to what he stood for.

What was striking in Tutu’s utterances was his indifference to politics, which led to him being described as a humanist. He, no doubt, would have shrugged off that label too, resisting any attempt to limit and define his message.

Like his friend Nelson Mandela, Tutu showed no special deference to kings, queens or heads of governments. For Tutu, the primacy of the individual was unquestionable, the human factor was paramount: all the rest was window-dressing. He believed that every person was made in the likeness of God, and it was not for politicians, or anyone else for that matter, to compromise the God-given humanity that bonds us. He remained all his life the boy who dared to say the emperor had no clothes.

The simple teaching that people are created in the image of God made for tension between Tutu and the authorities. The pattern was that the archbishop would boldly admonish the high and mighty for one failing or another, in response to which the targets of his wrath would make fools of themselves as they sought to counter his irrefutable logic.

If he was always in the right it was because he never had a hidden agenda. This infuriated a long line of political leaders, including John Vorster, PW Botha,

Mandela himself, Thabo Mbeki and Jacob Zuma.

Mbeki’s acrimonious reaction to Tutu’s criticism of his leadership and ANC policies was a case in point. It provided proof, if such were needed, that Tutu was an equal-opportunity offender. In an interview this week,

Mbeki said of Tutu’s anger at SA’s refusal to allow the

Dalai Lama into the country that the archbishop was ignorant of “certain information’’. No doubt he’s right, but Tutu wouldn’t have cared about that.

Tutu’s celebration of the disappearance of “whites only’’ signs, many years after the fact, was striking; it highlighted how human dignity was at the core of his life’s work.

Leaving aside Tutu’s significance in the history of SA, and indeed in the story of modern humanity, one is left with the vexing question of whether his was a life lived in vain. The answer is a resounding no, yet there remains an element of discomfort.

Can we truly say that we live in a society where the enhancement of human dignity is the foundation of all our efforts? Can such dignity exist in conditions of gross inequality, poverty, disease and hunger? These are the questions that Tutu would ask.

We go into the new year with hearts made heavy by the loss of such a decent and principled man. May we always strive to live up to his example by embracing generosity, compassion and our common humanity.