Finding God in Surprising Places

This week, I heard a sermon on the Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson.

Honestly, I have never watched Craig Ferguson’s show before. But on Wednesday night, I couldn’t sleep, and besides, I had a motivation to stay up and watch U2 perform on Letterman (which was totally worth it). And there on the Late Late show, of all people, was Archibishop Desmond Tutu. After a brief history of apartheid by Craig Ferguson (which was, surprisingly funny without being inappropriate), this tiny 79 year-old man with a foot-long cross dangling from his neck came upon the stage to a standing ovation from the crowd. This tiny man is one of the most influential figures in the world alive today… and he’s being interviewed by Craig Ferguson.

Actually, Ferguson proved to be more theologically knowledgeable than I (or perhaps anyone) suspected. There, as they talked about all the horrific events Tutu has witnessed and condemned—apartheid in South Africa, visiting Darfur, and condemning the leadership of Zimbabwe’s President Mugabe—the two of them catapulted into a conversation about theodicy.

Ferguson: “How is it that you can keep your faith amidst all the horrible things that happen in the world.”

Tutu: “There are a lot of horrible things that have happened in the world, but one must remember that there is a whole lot of good. And there are many beautiful, remarkable people in the world. We must remember that evil is not how the world is supposed to be.”

Ferguson: “Isn’t that what Thomas Aquinas believed, that man is inherently good and that evil is an aberration.”

Tutu: “Yes… The way to deal with evil in the world is not to dismiss it as if it were not an issue. We must name ghastly events for what they are. There is no getting around that putting people into gas chambers are a horrible thing. But the way I see it, so often, in the moments in which evil seems to be so great, there too are moments of good and beauty.”

Tutu went on to tell remarkable stories of humanitarian aid workers in Sudan who have come back for third and fourth and fifth visits, of Africans living in total squalor who can still put a smile on their face, and stories from South Africa that came out of the Truth and Reconciliation Committee.

Ferguson: “Tell us about the Truth and Reconciliation Committee. What was its motivation?”

Tutu: “The Truth and Reconciliation Committee was formed with two principles in mind. First, in Africa, we believe that our lives are inherently enmeshed with one another. No one lives or learns in isolation, as just an individual. I could not learn to talk, or even walk, without you. So then, when you perform an act upon another that dehumanizes them, you simultaneously dehumanize yourself. That cycle of dehumanization needed to stop. Second, we wanted to create space for people talk, to share their story, and most importantly to ask for forgiveness.

“Sometimes, it helps tremendously when you have gone through a horrible incident to simply talk out loud, to share it with someone else, and we often forget that. I remember a boy who came to us and who shared his story about how the police took out his eyes during an interrogation. After this blind boy shared, I asked him, ‘How do you feel now?’ And he said, with a big smile across his face, ‘You have given me my eyes back.’

“And then, there is the power of forgiveness. If you ever fight with your wife—not that I’m saying you ever do [Ferguson laughs and asks, ‘Do you ever fight with your wife?’ And receives a glare from Tutu. Ferguson responds, ‘Ok. I’m sorry, I went too far!]—you know that if you don’t make it right, a knot forms in the pit of your ‘tum tum.’ The hardest two words in any language are, ‘I’m sorry.’ If you don’t say those words after that fight, that marriage will not last. Forgiveness is absolutely necessary for any relationship or society to survive.

“There was a woman who came to us to share her story with the committee—a white woman, not all the victims were black. This woman was at a Christmas party and someone threw a grenade into the house, and it left her in the hospital for many, many months. Afterwards, she said, ‘I want to share my story, and I want to meet my perpetrator. I want to forgive him. And I want to ask for his forgiveness too.' Now I bet that you find that hard to believe.”

Ferguson didn’t have to say anything (although he did). It was written all over his face—as it is written on all of ours. The Gospel is hard to understand because it turns our world and its economy on its head. We believe, in such instances, forgiveness and reconciliation are impossible. And they are. To break the cycle of logic of karma, of what goes around comes around, I scratch your back you scratch mine, of pride and the desire for revenge, is indeed, incomprehensible. But miracles happen every day.