On May 9, 2013, we funeralized/memorialized/said farewell to a great old soldier of the CME Church, Mrs. Bessie Lee Stewart Oliver. Despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that the last birthday she celebrated was her 90th (or “80-something,” as
she said at her birthday celebration), there were scores of people present, and
many of her church family came well before the wake began at 3 pm and stayed
until well after the repast ended at midnight.
It was a great celebration of a great woman. Mrs. Oliver walked her talk; her life
exemplified her beliefs. She was a
social worker who served for many years at the Central Harlem welfare branch. I
don’t mean to sound dismissive, but for this preacher who runs a nonprofit,
serving either the Central Harlem population OR a welfare branch population is
demanding enough. To serve the
combination requires more knowledge, skill, and expertise than I possess.
Her Word/World alignment was not limited to her vocational
pursuits. A Lifetime member of the
NAACP, Mrs. Oliver was an advocate for social justice. Not only did the City and State branches of
the NAACP come to offer tributes to her, but her union did as well. Additionally, her sorority, Tau Gamma Delta,
come out to do a special tribute to her.
That’s where it ends with most people. You live a good life, you do good works, and
you are celebrated. But that was just
the beginning with Mrs. Oliver. People
from all across the CME Connection (I got emails from more than one Bishop
regarding her services, and the Senior Bishop of the CME Church said that every
person on the College of Bishops personally asked him to send remarks) – people
came from all across the CME Connection to offer tributes, and to speak of her bountiful
service, most notably as a Christian Educator and as a member of the Lay
Department. Letters, cards, and
resolutions came in from all across the Connection.
A young man who lived in her building, clearly filled with emotion, stood up to speak of the way Ms. Oliver mothered him. Young people, who have long since stopped attending worship at our church, made their way back to come out and show tribute to Mrs. Oliver. Soloists of operatic character came out, all of them people with whom she had personal relationships, all of whom sang heartfelt tributes to her. The Sanctuary Choir was more robust than it has been in perhaps a decade, as all the old members came back to sing her one more song, and to celebrate her home.
Because that’s the kind of person she was. And since this is my blog, here’s where I tell my story. I was raised up a good CME kid. I was pastored, taught, and trained at St. Joseph CME Church in Chapel Hill, NC, under the tutelage of such legendary CME Pastors and preachers as the Rev. W.E. Wilson, Rev. Marion Foushee, Rev. Dr. Alex A. Champers, Bishop Charles Helton (all, unfortunately, now deceased) and the current Senior Bishop of the CME Church, Bishop Thomas L. Hoyt, Jr. That’s my CME rooting and grounding. Despite that, my not-yet-fully-developed teenaged brain got mad at God once when God gave me what I asked for. In my thinking, God should have anticipated my needs and given me not what I asked for, but that which would truly fulfill me. So I used that as an excuse to do some “research.” Twenty years later, the net result of my “research” was that my way didn't work; may as well try God’s way...
So there I was, a churchkid, having grown up in the church, fallen away, LIVING RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER FROM THE ONLY CME CHURCH IN MANHATTAN, wanting to come back, but (being a born and bred CME) being afraid to do so. I knew how much we (not just CMEs, but all churchfolk) can gossip and backbite and tear one another down when we are most vulnerable, and I knew I was too vulnerable to subject myself to that.
The church sold barbecue on the weekends. I decided that rather than smell it from my
room, I’d summon up the nerve to go sample some. I went to the parking lot where they set up
shop. We are a Connectional church, and
I made a connection with the Pastor, but I knew that this person knew people
who knew my family, and I knew I was living with secrets from my family, so I
couldn’t fully embrace that connection.
There were a lot of church mothers sitting around on the
sides. Having been reared by my
grandparents, I instantly felt safer around them. I chatted for a bit, walking a thin line between sharing my CME Connectional roots with covering up the fact that I was living a life of absolute hedonism. They were delightful people, but there was one who knew some of the mothers of my home church. As we talked, I didn’t know or need to know her name – in my mind, she was Ms. Flossie Foushee, the mother who sat on the pew right behind the Pastor’s Wife, the mother who only had to look at you to make you stop chewing gum, the mother who would tell you not only when you were out of order, but WHY, and who would love and encourage you in a way that made it easy to recover from your mistakes. That’s who I saw when I spoke to this engaging woman on the lot, this woman who I would later come to know as Mrs. Bessie Oliver.
We talked, and she said to me, “Tomorrow is Family and Friends Day. Why don’t you come?” When I was unable to fully embrace the social nature of church, when I was too wayward to consider the spiritual or theological nature of church, this woman met me at my point of need. She made a simple offer, extended in love, with no strings or commitments. She offered all I could handle, and just what I needed.
And so I came, and I kept coming. I rejoined the fellowship, and got out of my
way enough to see some of the blessings God put before me. One of those blessings, of course, was Mrs.
Bessie Lee Stewart Oliver. The spirit
she showed on the parking lot that day proved genuine; I never knew her to have a cross word, never
a complaining spirit, and always saw her to be a champion of decorum and
discipline. She took special pride in
her God, her natural family, her church family and, through it, her educational
background (she attended not one, but TWO CME colleges!). As mentioned before, her civic activities
reflected her core spiritual values and her efforts to produce positive change
in the world.
So this is simply to celebrate the life and legacy of Mrs.
Bessie Oliver. I’ve been given her torch
to carry as the Director of Christian Education in our church, and am
attempting to re-structure a functional BOCE.
But that’s not my main concern.
My hope, my prayer is that someday my walk and my talk may line up with
my words the way Ms. Oliver’s did, and that God might be able to use me as a
lighthouse to guide someone else home.
