A pentecostal funeral

Lunchtime today I officiated at Pastor Bassey Esien's funeral in St David's Ely. The church was full with family old friends and congregation members. A bus came down from London, with a choir of four, and organist and a saxophonist, but they were delayed by an accident on the M4, and arrived three quarters of an hour late. So instead of singing while the Pastor was brought in, they sang on the way out instead. 

A black woman pastor former colleague and friend preached, two of his children spoke, two others read lessons. We sang three conventional hymns in church, albeit with gusto, another family member sang him a farewell solo and everyone joined in the chorus. I welcomed everyone and led prayers. Although mine were traditional in content, the occasion moved me to offer them more energetically rather than reflectively, as pentecostals normally do. 

Back in my days at St Paul's Bristol, I gained much from worshipping with black church communities, learning how to relax and work with the natural vocal responsiveness of the pentecostal way of praying. To me, it feels 'liturgical' even if it's improvised. It's because everyone knows their part and is confident and grounded in reaching out to God. I cherish this openness and spontanaiety just as much as I cherish reticence and silence in God's presence. I regard worship as a privileged performance art of the highest order, sensitive to circumstances, to be offered wholeheartedly in the best way possible.

The 'liturgy after the liturgy' at the graveside, followed from my brief committal prayer and blessing. A back matriarch stepped from the crowd of mourners and led the assembly in singing unaccompanied well known songs from Redemption Hymnal while male next of kin and their friends, kitted out with new wellies and shovels, filled in the grave. She called out the lines of the verses beforehand, and the people sang in sweet harmony, tight and strong as any Welsh, Russian, or South African choir could render. The call and response way of performing testifies to the deep African roots of this 'liturgical' musical culture. 

Strength, confidence and conviction abounded. The song leader introduced each hymn with homilies about death and judgement, heaven and hell, exhorting all present who hadn't given their lives to God to do so while they still could, and taste the divine mercy. This is still the tradition at black pentecostal funerals. It was the same in St Paul's thirty years ago. It's a vital part of the way the community works through its grief and begins the healing process. 

I stayed and sang for a while. There was nothing more for me to do. Before they finished, I had to slip away and get a lift back to College for a general meeting to review the provision of Chapel services, and then attend the Eucharist in honour of St Ignatius of Antioch. By such contrasts I am so wonderfully fed !