Revisiting Enfleshing Witness
The following is a lightly edited transcript and a video of Rev. Dr. Theresa Thames’ talk from our 2021 Enfleshing Witness gathering. Theresa preaches because at 14 years old, she heard God's call and she truly believes in the transformative power and love of God. Teresa preaches to every person she encounters in real life or on social media because she lives her faith. Teresa preaches among those on and beyond the margins, without place or title, and those committed to radical freedom and liberation.
There's nothing like a funeral in a black church, in a black community.
Funerals in the black community are often called home-going celebrations. The opportunity for the community to gather to celebrate the life of a loved one, family member, community leader, community person, an opportunity for us to gather and be in grief and celebration with one another.
There is nothing quite like a funeral in a black church, in a black community.
We live in a society and a country that often renders our bodies invisible, but in the black church and a black funeral with the black community we see each other. We gather together to celebrate life no matter if that person's name is on the side of a building or spray painted on a t-shirt.
We see them. We gather to acknowledge to that family that, “you are held by the community.” It is in the gathering that we sing songs of joy on the other side of what it meant for God to get us to this moment. And no matter your life trajectory a black funeral and a black church in the black community is full of love, is full of this weight of you can fall apart here and we will catch you.
There is nothing quite like a funeral in a black community, with our people.
There is something about the grandeur, the pomp and circumstance of the gathered community. What does it mean for the funeral director to walk in lockstep and lead this family in? Where ushers are donned in white and white gloves, leading order in the service. Where there are fans with Jesus on one side, Black Jesus, and on the other side, a sponsorship from a funeral home. The place where we are able to intermingle life and death.
All of our history, the people who were enslaved in this country, sang about the other side of the Jordan, of when I get over. It is in the songs that we sing, in the prayers that we pray, even the scriptures that we read, that in my father's house there are many mansions. And if it were not so, I wouldn't have told you.
Funerals in the black church are built on this hope that no matter what happened in this life, that there is something for us on the other side and the great by and by when we get over.
There's nothing like funerals in the black community and the black church.
There is nothing like seeing a family brokenhearted walking in, and there is whispering of ‘I got you, baby.’ ‘I see you.’ The holding of a grieving mother, the passing of tissues, the care that is taken even in the repast of fried catfish and fried fish and fried chicken and sweet potato pie and sweet potatoes and all of the food that is care and nurture. From the food that is brought to the house, to the back of the church.
There is nothing quite like a funeral in the Black community, in a Black church.
This past year, those gatherings have looked different. Even as our death rate in our communities climbed higher and higher, we've seen congregations lose member after member at the hand of COVID-19. We weren't able to gather in the same way. We weren't able to celebrate in the same way. There's something that we lost that we missed. Zoom and the ways of technology served us well.
We did our best as we could but there is something about standing around a graveside service As the pastor recites Psalm 23, the Lord is my shepherd. As ashes and flowers are strewn across caskets; as doves and pigeons are released into the air. As all of the ways that we, our community, see one another and hold one another. Even in this place of life and death, of hope and grief, of grief and looking forward and looking back.
Ah, I've missed it.
I've missed the opportunity to be with, to hold, to sing, and to pray. My friends, what does it mean for us to be enfleshed as we hold our grief? We will be grieving and holding space for this ritual for years and years, and dare I say, generations to come.
I am so thankful for the opportunities that I've had over this past year to gather via Zoom and there were elements of our in-person gatherings that I witnessed and experienced on this green. Witnessed the offering of love and community. The witness of sharing stories and testimonies. The witness of hope. The witness of grief. The witness of your life. Your flesh mattered in this life. That when no one else saw you, we see you. When no one has held you, we are holding you. Even though we are distant.
Enfleshed. Incarnate. That's what Jesus was. Came and took on flesh.
And now we are enfleshed and even in death, the joy and the witness and the power and the strength of the Black community is seen as we gather and acknowledge and name and pray and preach and hope. As we go into the rest of this journey, I pray we never lose the pomp and circumstance and grandeur of what it means for us to celebrate life.
We've lost so many. We've lost too many. From COVID-19 and cancer and all of the other ways that our communities have systematically felt the ramifications of white supremacy in this country. We have laid to rest way too many of our children and babies. We have laid to rest way too many of our women and fems. We have laid to rest way too many of our LGBTQ siblings and children of God. We have laid to rest way too many and I pray that we never let go of what it means for us to gather and celebrate life. And to celebrate the life that this person lived and to hope and to work for a better life.
My sister died many, many years ago at the age of 40. She died of meningitis. And the song that we sang, entering the church and exiting the church is “Soon And Very Soon,” and no matter where I am, when I hear that song, it reminds me that this is not the end of our story. That this is not the end of the promise that while we are here, we will hope, and we will fight, and we will show up, but when this life is over, we will gather and celebrate.
“Soon And Very Soon.”
When we go and see the King, no more crying there.
We are going to see peace and happiness there.
We are going. Hallelujah.
Hallelujah. We are going.
And when I get over, the song says, I'm going to put on my robe and tell the story: how I made it over.
As we gather. As we remember, I pray that in this life that we will see each other, that we will hold each other in our grief and we will celebrate life.
Celebrate life.
We are excited to announce a new chapter in the Enfleshing Witness movement: “Enfleshing Witness: Rewilding Otherwise Preaching.” Learn more about this new grant opportunity and sign-up to stay connected as the project unfolds.
