Losing Bishop Desmond Tutu and Betty White in the same week was a lot of loss. Surely, you didn’t expect those two names to appear in a sentence together, except that they both happened to die within a few days of one another. Both deaths were significant for a lot of people, sometimes overlapping, but often not. “Church” people around the world, particularly Anglicans, really felt the loss of “Arch,” as he was known, while much of the secular world in this country was saddened to lose the last of the Golden Girls. These two have something in common though, even beyond the timing of their deaths.

I won’t pretend that I knew Archbishop Tutu well, but I did get to meet him and spend some time with him. I was deeply moved by the experience of being in his presence and speaking with him, like so many. I will always treasure that brief time. It came in the first years after my ordination, when the Rector of the parish I was serving (my home parish, in fact), Nathan Baxter, formerly Dean of the National Cathedral, was elected Bishop of that diocese. As he planned his consecration service, he invited Archbishop Tutu to be the guest preacher. 

At that time, I was in a small office on the third floor, all by myself. I had not yet been moved downstairs to the main floor into a converted coat closet. I had just finished a hallway conversation with Nathan and I had made it onto the first landing of the first flight of stairs when Nathan called to me from the ground floor. “Tom – hold on. I forgot to ask you something,” he called after me. I turned around and came down the stairs, and he began, “You can say no, of course,” before pausing. “But I wonder if you would be willing to serve as Bishop Tutu’s chaplain at my Consecration,” he finally asked. I had to think about it for about a half a second before I said yes. 

Serving as Bishop Tutu’s chaplain meant that I would pick him up from and return him to his hotel, bring him into the arena through a side door, carry his vestments and service booklet, and shepherd him where he needed to go, paying particular attention to those who would and did mob him for attention to keep him moving. It also turned out that I had to stand guard while he went into a private space to pray before the liturgy. People just wanted to catch a glimpse of him, but I was instructed to let him have his privacy.  

I walked before him in the liturgical procession and held his mitre when he didn’t need to wear it. The most touching part of experience came during communion. It stands out more than the sermon he preached, and more than the conversations we had in the car or waiting in the wings. As we watched the congregation of around five thousand people receiving communion, he asked me if my family was out in the congregation. He knew I was married and had a daughter. When I admitted that they were, he asked me to point them out. Donna and a very young Eva happened to be making their way for communion off in the middle of the arena, so I pointed them out. He asked me their names, and then bowed his head and prayed for them for about a minute. He prayed silently, but I knew he was praying because he said, “amen,” as he raised his head. He grabbed my knee and told me I had a beautiful family.

I’m sure some of you have seen Bishop Tutu in person and heard him speak. Maybe you’ve read some of his books, or watched him on television. So many know him to be a holy man, and he was. He is among the few people I’ve ever met that just to be in their presence is to know that God is near. One of my lasting impressions of the man, beyond his holiness, was his joy. He smiled and laughed. A lot. His joy is one of the things he is most remembered for, in fact.  Although he could be gravely serious when the situation called for it, and braver than most of us will ever need to be in the face of threats, his core gift was that of joy. A joy that, no doubt, stems from his faith.

I never met Betty White, so I don’t have a good Betty White story. The closest I can come is the wax likeness at Madame Tussaud’s in Hollywood. Her figure was one of the ones we were sure to get a picture of because Donna and I have always found her funny. I don’t know much about Betty White’s spiritual life. It’s said that she did practice Christianity, although it was a non-denominational version that would be much more progressive, theologically, than what we teach in the Episcopal Church. I can’t say the extent to which her faith informed her life, but I do know that she was full of joy, or at least appeared to be so. We can never know how joyful a person is solely based on their on-screen performances, however, people who knew her do reference that she was a genuinely joyful person.  

Whatever her source of joy, it occurred to me that we lost two joy-filled people one after the other, and that for both different and similar reasons, people were feeling the loss. We need joy in our lives, now more than ever. This frustrating pandemic continues to aggravate us and rob us of joy. The “state of the world,” challenges attempts to be joyful, at least when you listen to talking heads. Which is why I don’t watch cable news. The truth is that there is joy out there to be found, and joy is a gift from God. God is joyful when we are joyful. The kind of joy that lights up our spirit (as opposed to humor that triggers the darkest parts of our being), that spills over into laughter that causes our stomach and facial muscles to hurt and tears to leave our eyes. The joy that is contagious and changes the chemistry in the room and the people around us. We need this joy, and to pursue it wherever we can find it.  

Trust me, I grieve losing Bishop Tutu more than Betty White, but I will miss the joy that I found in both of them and their joyful examples. I’ll style myself more after Bishop Tutu and his spirituality, but as one who tells jokes, I’ll also keep working on Betty White punchlines. I pray that they both rest in peace and rise in the joyous glory of our loving God. I’m so glad they were both in the world at the same time I was.

Tom+

Gracious God, who joyfully created all that is out of nothing, the Psalmist reminds us that you will show us the path of life; that in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore. Shower us with joy and the gifts of your grace that we might be lighter and freer to live and love in the name of your Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.