I just finished Covid19 cleaning following an incredibly moving 8-hour rolling funeral for a Native-American family and tribal communities. It was supposed to be three Showings or Visitations, by appointment, preceded and followed by the receiving of the young mans body from the funeral center and subsequent pickup.
I had assumed from the start it probably was a loosing cause to limit food to pastries and drinks to coffee for ease of serving by Covid protocols and the temporary closing and dis-infecting between showings. It was. And with a full luncheon menu gathering without access to our kitchen—again the result of Covid protocols, and that creating its own safety issues needing heat and cold depending on the dish.
Having been near the maximum number allowed, food still pouring in and realizing the nature of a tribal community simply didn’t allow for the separated visitations I publicly relented, thanking all for observing masking and a semblance of social distancing and asked them to manage their numbers so that we never exceeded the maximum allowed. They did and we didn’t exceed our governors set number. The young would simply disappear only to reappear when the numbers allowed.
The amazing ability of 1st Nations Tribal communities to organically organize themselves and creatively solve community logistical issues was clearly needed; something along the lines of the feeding of the 5,000 that just happens. So, I essentially asked those who seemed to have the trust and welfare of the community to efficiently serve a potluck meal; all with gloves, distancing, masks and enforced refusal to approach the table now filled with food. They did, presenting without anyone apparently planning it, types of food into small plates and magically transforming a potluck into a three course and served meal—over a period of five hours. Amazing!
Given the three sessions were now rolling into one awesome time of laughter, tears, reconciliation of old familial walls, I was keenly aware that we needed to shift to some formal sharing, devotional and pastoral care. My fellow minister, the spiritual leader and elder present in whom the smudging rituals and prayers for the journey of this young life from tragic death into the Creators embrace are entrusted was a gentle man of tender heart. Upon meeting him I think we both immediately felt the trust of one another’s motives and enjoyed several deep conversations of Spirit; his from within the rituals of the Crow Nations historic faith in Spirit-Creator God and I from within the faith of my European Forebears.
Les, this man who a century earlier might have been called a Shuman or Medicine Man responded to my expressed feeling that “perhaps we should have created space for a funeral instead of simply visitations” added softly, “let’s do it.” We did. What emerged from invited sharing was an amalgam of young and old memories, honest confession of broken spaces of the beloved together with the incredible love and tender respect that he had communicated to his elders and peers in his young life, cut short. What three of us—Les, his wife and auntie of the deceased and I—gave were the wisdom of life; all from within deep reverence for the Eternal and two of us from within a Christo-centric tradition.
Having each of us shared a bit of our personal stories with the other I asked Les, my new friend of the Spirit, to pray for my restoration as a man in the fellowship of the Great Spirit—confessing briefly the mental health and wounded spaces that God was/is healing in me and in my ministry.
At this writing I cannot but think back to my first Native funeral and the prejudiced ignorance that allowed me to publicly offend the Umatilla Tribe some 40 years ago. I’m so thankful for the quiet reverence of a people’s whose spirit has been shaped uniquely by coming to know the Trinity of God in the knowledge of God as Spirit and Creator, first; whereas Western societies are informed in a hybrid of God as Creator-Sovereign and later as Son-Incarnate.
This week, privileged to walk in the steps of the Son by building my first line casket and that with the guidance of the deceased’s mom. I was once again on the inside of a Spirit Story of a people that trust organic leadership and practice intuitively and creatively; even as the European need to organize all of nature, even mourning, into Covid friendly structures assert themselves; structures that reflect the need for Sovereign control when communal wisdom is what is really in need.
Thank you Jesus for making us human, vulnerable and unable to see beyond our own limited experience. Thank-you for the hunger to learn and grow and somehow discern what is real; a process requiring judgment upon judgment—the foundation of prejudice, as necessary to our growing understanding as are the new experiences that challenge our pre-disposed judgments. Finally, Jesus, Thank-you for ever bringing new Corneliuses into our lives; persons who love you but from beyond our comfortable boundaries (see Acts 10). Thank-you that you are communal in very essence; the inter-penetrating experiences of Father-Son-Spirit.
Blessings! Terry:)
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