March 30, 2004 02:48 AM     

Wednesday, 24 March, 2004 was certainly one of the most auspicious days in the history of St. Luke’s Episcopal church in Livingston.  At slightly after noon, two long, black Lincoln limos pulled into the policed parking lot of the church, the leading one discharging about half a ton of burly entourage who immediately and with practiced discipline surrounded the second vehicle as a small, beautifully smiling cleric emerged.  The gathered crowd, mostly congregation but sprinkled with unexplained and alien faces from afar, gawked understandably as the small man nodded with humble sincerity and looked as though he would, if not surrounded by his tower of protection, walked into the crowd with extended arms.  Such was not the case, however, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu was quickly escorted into the Parish Hall.  The limos had driven directly from the Death Row facility at the Pulunsky prison outside Livingston.  There, Archbishop Tutu had met with an inmate awaiting possible death by lethal injection.  To the overwhelming surprise and delight of the congregation, St. Luke’s had been requested for the press conference that followed. 

An hour before this arrival, the assemblage of onlookers had begun.  Mostly made up of the faithful of the church, the throng was sprinkled with many faces of uncertain purpose and far away look: these were the handlers, technicians, and advance security people who follow the limos.  They had already scurried through the Parish Hall locating electrical outlets, setting up professional video cameras and tables for the Archbishop’s book.  And now they were done.

Upon entering the Parish Hall, Archbishop Tutu, Nobel Prize winner, Internationally recognized Humanist and perhaps the most genuinely humble servant of God ever seen by these people must himself have been struck by the light and warmth of his sudden environment.  Overhead, the full bank of chandeliers were aglow, an uncommon luxury for a small church with a tightly managed budget.  The ambient light bounced off of carefully scrubbed floors and walls, rattled around the spotless glass of the Church Mouse cases at the entrance and gleamed from the kitchen at the rear of the hall.  The kitchen, so used to hard service by the monthly spaghetti dinners, looked like the kitchen of a newly christened home.  This magic moment was the sole result of an eager and dedicated response on very short notice by those of the church too numerous to mention here who always seem available to do the things that make a difference.  Toward the end of the hall were the tables piled high with attractive sandwiches of various and delicious content.  If the word had not come down to the women of the church that “the archbishop eats little during Lent,” who knows what these tables might hold.  Even so, many breakfast challenged eyes turned to these treats, though it was an act of discipline to wait until the Archbishop had begun taking questions from the press.   

            Father Karl Choate, the interim priest who has been so adequately serving St. Luke’s during a search for a permanent priest, introduced Archbishop Tutu, Thomas Cahill, the author, and retired Judge Sheila Murphy, both friends and colleagues in his convictions concerning capitol punishment.  Thomas Cahill then briefed the general press on the background of Archbishop Tutu’s life and service to the church as well as the thrust of books he has written.  Thomas Cahill then introduced retired judge Murphy who was personally acquainted with the trial of  Dominique Green and educated the press on details of that trial.   

Archbishop Tutu then took the podium and thanked the people of St. Luke’s for their generosity in making the facilities available and explained the purpose of his Death Row visit.  At the end of his speech, he jolted the congregation by informing them that he would conduct a service in the sanctuary after the obligatory questions from the press.  This was received in awe by the people of St. Luke’s as they had been warned that such was the great man’s schedule that he would probably be immediately whisked into the limo after the press conference.  But the kicker was that Thomas Cahill, who knows the Archbishop well, had also mentioned that Archbishop Tutu is an extraordinarily sensitive and human man and that you really never know what he will do when there are church people to be ministered to.  Mr. Cahill did know his man.

An hour later, St. Luke’s sanctuary was full and the acolytes and readers well rehearsed—just in case--when the honored cleric, his humility and projection that of any dedicated server, took the altar.  It was another magic moment, or perhaps many moments that, in the words of one observers, “It’s like surreal.”  At the conclusion of the service, gifts from the congregation and Eddie Martin were presented to the Archbishop and, again, to the complete surprise of the people, the Archbishop stood in the Narthex and personally greeted and shook hands with each of the parting fellowship.  

Whatever the person impression that the good people of St. Luke’s carried away from Wednesday’s experience, something shone in each face that had borne witness to something that would remain with them for life. Such is the effect wrought by the presence of one thoroughly devoted to and blessed by the grace of God.    

Joe Lane

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