Walking into St. George’s Cathedral in Cape Town, South Africa early April 25, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. We had been reminded that it wasn’t a sure thing we would meet Desmond Tutu, but I put a little extra thought in getting ready that morning—putting on the mascara that so rarely graces my face—just hoping for the moment that Desmond Tutu would make eye contact and indulge me with a smile.
The church was quiet, aside from a smattering of whispers in the small back room where the chairs were quickly filling up, mostly by other visitors much like ourselves. The sound of people standing up and adjusting their chairs filled the room, and I quickly joined them as the church leaders, including Desmond Tutu, filed in from the back room.
When Andrew [Suderman] leaned over and whispered, "There’s Tutu," I couldn’t stop the smile that grew across my face and the skipping beat of my heart as the excitement of just being in the same vicinity of Tutu sunk in.
I couldn’t tell you much of what the service was about beside the fact when Karen [Suderman] took a jabbering James out, Tutu yelled to her, "You’re not leaving are you? We like the sound of his voice." My appreciation and admiration of Tutu grew in that moment because I have found that a lot of people try to "get rid" of kids during church services because they make too much noise. I, however, appreciate the sound of kids talking in the background and I believe that they belong with the rest of us in the service. I laughed as Karen made her way back to her seat.
Throughout the service, I got a chance to see a little of Desmond Tutu’s character and humor as he cracked a few jokes here and there. I appreciated the way that he made the service livelier and wasn’t so caught up in reciting the passages, but added his personality to it.
Later, during the “passing of peace” to one another (where I got to shake Tutu’s hand), he stopped to play peek-a-boo with James, which was just precious. He did this a few more times over the course of the morning and, in hindsight, he may have done this not just because he loves kids, but maybe because James was someone who wasn’t demanding anything from him, expecting him to be this person that they thought he should be, or treating him like some kind of celebrity.
Tutu, I think, has come to expect this from people, though, because at the end of the service and communion, he said that he would be willing to take pictures. Well, 80 percent of the service goers — including me — took advantage of this opportunity. I was so excited to be able to get a picture with him, as were the others. They snapped pictures, selfies, and even had a few books signed by him.
I almost wish I hadn’t been so selfish, though, because I felt sad as the realization sunk in that because we view him as such a great man, he can’t even lead a church service without getting pictures taken or being asked to be interviewed in the middle of the service.
Many of the attendees, including myself, were only there to meet and get a picture with Desmond Tutu. I didn’t care much about the service, but I did care about the man leading it. If there ever is a next time to meet Desmond Tutu, I will smile at him, shake his hand, and I want to ask him how he is. I want to see him as a person just like me: a person who just wants to be recognized for who he is and not be treated any different.
