Lord -- What a Send Off!

Years ago, my mother went to a funeral of an acquaintance at a black church. Afterwards, she told us, only half kidding, that she was ready to convert. "The people were SO nice, unlike the yentas in a shul, and the women all sang like that Theresa Franklin!" She meant Aretha, of course, but we got the point. Well, I got my taste today. My friend Steve the cop's good friend Patrice died, at 46. She had a bellyache 2 months ago, which turned out to be metastatic liver cancer, and she was gone in several weeks. I knew Patrice fairly well -- I spoke to her 5 months ago when she hit me up for out annual contribution to her daughter's high school team. That's who Patrice was -- mother of 2, dedicated cop, and true community and church leader. So Steve invited me to go with him, and we went in his green and white, along with his lady Ruth, up to the Antioch Missionary Baptist Church near Joe Robbie Stadium. There were near 1000 people packed in, including many of Patrice police friends. We sat in a pew, and the festivities began. And I do mean festivities. Many funerals advertise themselves as a celebration of the deceased's life, but I have NEVER seen or heard what I did today. First off, the church choir was 15 strong --many large ladies -- and each with professional quality voices. There was a full band, and they were TIGHT! The choir leader sang, and danced, and a paralyzed person would have swayed along. I mean -- they were AMAZING. The lead minister spoke well, and Patrice's cousin did as well, but the women were clearly in charge. They sang truly from theur hearts and soul, and spoke so forcefully and passionately. I didn't know Patrice that well, and several times this ironic, seen it all Jew was moved to tears. Several cops were invited to speak, and they did. Steve brought the house down: he said Patrice had told him he was a black man trapped in a white man's body, and even the very formal minister doubled over in laughter. He spoke aboug how he and Patrice each had each other's back, and how she adored her kids. The other cops were a celebration of Miami's diversity: an Asian fellow, a VERY white, Southern "miamuh" guy, and 2 Latinas all spoke from their hears about Patrice. And then something very strange and wonderful happened. A minister from the youth corps came to the front of the church --in white jacket and white face paint! It was a reverse minstrel thing -- he looked like a mime. And sure enough, he acted and lip synched a very moving gospel song by I think, Bobby Womack, about needing, no NEEDING Jesus in your life. The whole church swayed and sang along. I was reminded of the Marc Cohn song "Walking in Memphis," where a black church lady asked if he was a Christian man, and he replied, in the song "Well I am tonight!" Patrice's cousin led the choir in her favorite song: "Break Every Chain," and we all sang along. It was the most I ever felt while singing along --even more from my heart than when I sing "Thunder Road" with Bruce at his converts. Maybe I have something in common with Steve... We left after 3 hours, and there were still some testimonials to come. Steve, Ruth, and I were all moved greatly by the event. Patrice's ex husband is a Broward fireman, and will take good care of her kids. Money won't be a problem, either -- there will be a very generous pension and life insurance payout. So I'll never go in for the Jesus thing. I have enough time with my own religion's magical unrealism and superstition -- and we have far less B.S. than the 2 other Abrahamic faiths. But I sure admired those folks today -- who literally shook and convulsed with their love of God -- so sure Patrice was in a "better place" and happy that she had found her Lord before she died. Patrice was a true angel among us. Her send off today was fitting. And no way, no how, anyone can sing like these large black ladies did today. I'm still feeling the shivers from their performance...