Two of my spiritual heroes came to town two weeks ago. Much to my chagrin, because of scheduling problems I did not get to see either of them. But, had I been given the privilege of engaging in dialogue with them, I now imagine some questions that I would like to have asked Archbishop Desmond Tutu and Dame Cicely Saunders.

Desmond Tutu, the more widely known of these two great-hearted people, served as Anglican Archbishop of Cape Town until his retirement three years ago. He provided leadership to the people of South Africa, of all races and faiths, during the terrible days of apartheid and helped lead the way toward its abolition.

Archbishop Tutu’s great subject is forgiveness. Starting in late 1995, when freedom from the policy of apartheid took hold in South Africa, he served as chair of the national Truth and Reconciliation Commission that has worked to bring about reconciliation in his own society. Members of this commission led the way in exposing past human rights abuses and getting offenders to admit their crimes and ask for forgiveness.

Were I present when he spoke, I would have asked the archbishop about the possibilities of real forgiveness, the spiritual ability that comes from the heart. When terrible evil has been done you, when someone has murdered one of your sons and daughters for example, how can ordinary people find the spiritual strength to forgive?

If we can, where does this strength come from? Must a person be schooled in a religious tradition to discover the courage to reach out to those who have done grievous harm? Must you believe in God or are there forms of religionless spirituality that can provide sufficient support?

Has post-apartheid South African society reached the goals that you, Archbishop Tutu, had dreamed about for so many years? Or does our often ornery human nature force you to fall back on the notion that there is something fundamentally wrong with us?

Do you hope, Archbishop, that the coming generations will put the world in better order than the idealists of the twentieth century have been able to do?

Dame Cicely Saunders deserves to be much better known than she is. After all, this eighty-year-old British doctor founded the hospice movement. She brought first to England, then to the United States and other parts of the world, a new way of helping people to die with dignity and peace of soul.

What I would have liked to ask Dame Cicely in particular concerns her recent statement that, rather than a sudden death, she would prefer a slow death from cancer. She gave as reasons for this astounding choice that a slow death would give her the opportunity to perform five tasks vital for people to finish before the end of life.

According to this wise woman, the things you need to say before your death to your loved ones go as follows: 1) I forgive you;  2) please forgive me;  3) thank you ; 4) I love you 5) Good-bye.

Given the chance to talk with Dame Cicely, I would ask her how she could find  courage to take on the pain and suffering attached to a slow and lingering death. Does not the fear and foreboding felt by people diagnosed with cancer make it impossible to carry out the tasks listed above?

Those tasks themselves do not loom large in most people’s imaginations when they think of their own death. How, Dame Cicely,  did you arrive at this list and what does the accomplishment of these tasks do for one’s spirit?

How, I would like to know further from Dame Cicely, can one overcome the abhorrence of death that has made discussion of it taboo in American society? Is not death a negative subject, contemplation of which is likely to lead toward depression and even despair?

What I imagine is that just being in the presence of Archbishop Tutu and Dame Cicely Saunders, these two heroes of the twentieth century, would itself prove an answer to my questions. Is this not our experience whenever we encounter people of great spirit? Typically, we find that their very person offers assurance to us that goes beyond the spoken responses that they have given. They themselves turn out to be the best answer.

Richard Griffin