Desmond Tutu made me immensely proud – and deeply uncomfortable

RABBI RALPH GENENDE: Bold and defiant, Tutu defied stereotypes; I appreciated his recognition of the Jewish role in fighting apartheid and was offended by his one-sided approach to Israel

THE WORLD STOOD still for a few moments this week; a great spirit had just departed from it. Desmond Tutu had died. In the Midrashic phrase, we were all diminished – the world lost something of its gloss, grandeur and splendour. The earth, in Auden’s memorable evocation, received an honoured guest.

I grew up in apartheid South Africa when icons like Mandela and Tutu were feared and reviled in equal measure by the white establishment. Successive apartheid governments tried to silence this upstart churchman; he was kidnapped, threatened with death and mocked relentlessly.

He was a thorn in the side of the authorities and was presented in the press as the devil incarnate. He made us all feel uncomfortable – he defied the stereotypes of the black man that we were brought up on; he was so astonishingly different from any black person we encountered in our lives.

As BBC journalist Andrew Harding pointed out, from his pulpit, Tutu spoke out against apartheid in a city where black people - their lives controlled by strict racist laws - required special passes simply to walk into "white" neighbourhoods.

He was bold, defiant, outspoken and outlandish. He was a leader, he was a man of God, he was impudent and he was incredibly funny. When the police stormed his Cape Town Cathedral, he danced down the aisle to meet them. He would diffuse tense situations with his down-to-earth humour or by bursting into a song and dance routine. He had an irrepressible energy and the laugh of a lovable little pixie.

Bishop Desmond Tutu was unafraid to challenge those in power, whether it was the Afrikaner political system or the ANC - he was critical of some of Mandela’s policies and scathing about the corruption of the government of Jacob Zuma. He showed a breathtaking courage in confronting an angry black mob intent on killing an informer. He personified the concept of talking truth to power.

He made me immensely proud as a Jew, and deeply uncomfortable. I respected his moral stand and spirituality. I appreciated his recognition of the Jewish role in fighting apartheid and of our suffering, particularly during the Holocaust. I was confounded and offended by his one-sided approach to the State of Israel and uncritical support of the Palestinians.