on October 26th, 2024 at
Jesus is The Answer Ministries
Pittsburgh, PA
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We’re gathered here today to give honor to God, church, Pastor and congregation, and to offer up our gratitude for the many blessings that we have received. With the blessing of my sisters, Lesha and Gloria, It’s my honor and privilege to be here today to offer a reflection on our one and only mother, Bessie Louise Iglehart.
I’ve chosen to call this a “reflection” rather than a “eulogy” because that feels to me like a far truer descriptor. Bessie didn’t like funerals - at all - and she rarely attended them. As you can see, she hasn’t even come to her own! Bessie much preferred to celebrate life and to expend her energy in support of the living, and in this she was unwaveringly faithful. It didn’t feel right to me to compose words that focused on our mother being dead when she was so fixated on life. Also, in every way imaginable, I embody Bessie’s essence: I look like her, I have her mannerisms, I even laugh like her. When I was a kid, some relatives even called me “Little Bessie” when I got flustered, and eventually I had to concede that, okay, I was Little Bessie. As such, I’m not really offering up a reflection of Bessie, today -- I am a reflection of Bessie, every day.
And it’s my hope to bring to you now a personal understanding of who and what Bessie has been in her many roles during her lifetime, and what she would have wanted her legacy to be. Her life was so full, and our relationship so intricate, that I could speak about her here for hours…but I won’t. Instead, I’ll try to keep this on point, and I’ll do my best to watch the time.
During Bessie’s life, she filled many different roles for many people: she was a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, a wife, a mother, a friend, a confidant, and a musical minister. Many of these roles can be identified within her very name, and for clarification, let me run through them all for you: Her full name was Bessie Louise Harvey Ramsey Iglehart Walker. Yes, it’s a mouthful. It includes her maiden name, her two subsequent married names (yes, she’d been married twice!), and our father’s last name, and she used each one at various points. The name that seemed to really stick was “Iglehart,” and maybe she liked that one because of its distinctiveness, even if no one could ever say it right. For the sake of completion, here’s how it’s properly pronounced…
EYE. GULL. HEART. It might sound tricky but, just like playing the piano, saying it becomes easier with practice.
Some of you may have noticed that a musical motif was used throughout the materials for this service. It’s in the program booklet, it was used online, and it’s being used liberally in what I’ve composed for today. This was a conscious choice because, to be a musician is to be an artist, and I tend to think of God as the ultimate artistic force in all of existence. Only the most fantastic musical talent possessing the deepest creativity would dare to compose a symphony as robust, emotional, nuanced, and all-encompassing as the sound of the human race.
Some of you may have noticed that a musical motif was used throughout the materials for this service. It’s in the program booklet, it was used online, and it’s being used liberally in what I’ve composed for today. This was a conscious choice because, to be a musician is to be an artist, and I tend to think of God as the ultimate artistic force in all of existence. Only the most fantastic musical talent possessing the deepest creativity would dare to compose a symphony as robust, emotional, nuanced, and all-encompassing as the sound of the human race.
Continuing this metaphor, every single one of us is also a composition -- some of us are symphonies, some of us are spirituals, some of us are rap battles. But think of the creative prowess it takes to compose so many radically different compositions and, somehow, to give them unity. I love that Bessie was given the gift of music. That’s the way it was always described to me when, as a child, I would ask her or other relatives about when she’d first started playing the piano and organ, and who taught her to do so. “Bessie always just had The Gift,” was the typical response. And she used that gift tirelessly for years to amplify God’s message in such a way that it couldn’t be ignored or denied.
Some of you in attendance today were blessed enough to get to hear her play. (I can’t say “when she was in her prime,” because her abilities were potent and primal for so long.) For those of you who never heard it, you really missed out. I was roughly eleven years old before I really got to witness and comprehend how talented my mother was at the piano. Her deft playing behind sermons followed each and every movement, the quiet parts and the raucous parts. She made it seem effortless, and she made not-quite-so natural singers sound better through her accompaniment.
Like all talented musicians, she understood the complexities of our individual compositions, and was able to adapt to her audiences. Also, she had the unique capacity to focus, which is how all renowned musicians achieve success. She focused on the people in her life, and took pains to be present and tend to their well being…even, sometimes, when we asked her to stop!
If Bessie saw you were sick, she’d bring you herbal remedies. If she suspected you were hungry, she’d DEFINITELY bring you food. She remembered birthdays and phone numbers, especially the latter, and she would call you. A whole lot, if her energy levels were up. She stayed up late on Saturdays, week after week, preparing mountains of food and snacks to take with her to church. She was unyielding in this self-imposed mission. If you ever saw Morningstar Baptist Church’s van on the roads headed to West Mifflin on Sunday mornings, carrying its pianist to service, riding low to the ground because it was stuffed full of bags and bags of treats for the congregation, know that Bessie was giving abundantly of the little bit she had, and she was doing so unapologetically.
There are two scriptures I want to share with you to emphasize my mother’s use of her gifts, starting with Matthew 5: Verses 14-16:
14 “You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. 16 Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in Heaven."
The second scripture is Matthew 14: Verses 13-21:
13 When Jesus heard it, He departed from there by boat to a deserted place by Himself. But when the multitudes heard it, they followed Him on foot from the cities. 14 And when Jesus went out He saw a great multitude; and He was moved with compassion for them, and healed their sick. 15 When it was evening, His disciples came to Him, saying, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is already late. Send the multitudes away, that they may go into the villages and buy themselves food.” 16 But Jesus said to them, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.” 17 And they said to Him, “We have here only five loaves and two fish.” 18 He said, “Bring them here to Me.” 19 Then He commanded the multitudes to sit down on the grass. And He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to Heaven, He blessed and broke and gave the loaves to the disciples; and the disciples gave to the multitudes. 20 So they all ate and were filled, and they took up twelve baskets full of the fragments that remained. 21 Now those who had eaten were about five thousand men, besides women and children.
My mother wasn’t afraid to use her gifts - her keyboard playing, her unshakable focus, her spirit - in front of the world, and while she wasn’t rich in money, what she had went farther than she realized. I know that’s true when I’ve listened to the music of my cousins Vernon, David Sr., and now David Jr., where I hear echoes of her talent. The younger Mr. Sims and I discussed this recently, how after his father and my mother were called to glory, we’ve come to understand they’re not gone -- they’re still here within us. My mother let her light shine brightly like a star, and starlight moves through the heavens for millennia after a star flickers out.
Where there's light, there’s also darkness, and everyone has high points and low points in their lives. Bessie was no exception. She was by no means perfect, even though she was, definitely, a Christian and a child of God. Which brings to mind a conundrum that I’ve heard expressed over the years in various ways: If God is perfect, and everything He creates is likewise perfect, how are humans universally flawed? Shouldn’t this be impossible?
First, I know that God never expects us to be perfect; He asks us to strive for perfection through loving others wholly and giving ourselves over to Him. But if we remained perfect all the time, and He removed every obstacle we ever encountered during our lives to keep us in a pristine state, what would the measurement be of our love for Him? How would we ever earn it? It’s been my experience that we take for granted the things that are given to us without struggle.
[Like Democracy. So, please vote on November 5th. Sorry for the digression.]
If God is perfect, and everything He creates is likewise perfect, how are humans universally flawed? I have an answer, but it requires some explanation. Please, bear with me.
There’s a topic that we, as a culture and a society, have only recently begun to talk about in the way that we should, with openness and without fear of anything but empathy. That topic is mental health, both our individual mental health and our collective mental health. Another of Pittsburgh’s Ministers of Music, our own Fred Rogers, was fond of saying,
“Anything that's human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable.”
Today I’d like to dispel that cloud of darkness and throw light on the subject. (Remember, we’re not supposed to hide our light!) A few years ago, when I told Mom about a creative project I was planning to pursue that would involve divulging some of our family’s history, including her struggles, I wanted to know if she’d be alright with this. Her response was, “If it will help people, then it’s okay.” With Bessie’s blessing, let’s please spend the next few minutes talking about the importance of mental health, because if we can’t have a discussion in church about what we openly struggle with out in the world, where can we hope to discuss it?
Most of you gathered here are at least passingly familiar with my family’s reality. Some of you are long-since acquainted with it. Lesha, Gloria, and I were present to bear witness to many of our mother’s darkest moments of frailty and imperfection. I don’t need to recount them now. Conversely, others here and beyond have told my sisters and me how they never once saw our mother on a bad day, or in a bad moment, and I’m legitimately grateful for people who never witnessed anything else.
If the only Bessie you ever encountered was sweet and loving and giving and kind and loyal, that’s as it should be…because I fully believe that’s the person God called into existence in this world. That’s the person we should remember, full of talent, kindness, and ambition. On most days, the truest expression of the Lord’s benign creative power moved through our mother, and it enhanced the world around her. Because, God creates.
But Satan corrupts, leaving imperfection in his wake. And Satan takes on many guises and names, and uses innumerable tools to manifest his handiwork. Within our household, Satan’s corruption was expressed via the discord of severe mental illness.
I push to remind everyone that mental illness is not something that any person or their family should ever be made to feel ashamed of. It’s not a failing of character, but rather an affliction of the body. It’s literally an imbalance of chemicals in the brain that the body can’t regulate without aid. The human body is a miracle, and God creates miracles, while Satan corrupts miracles. Despite the stories, and the gossip, and the side-eye, and the distaste that my family has endured, none of my mother’s worst days should obscure the fact that she was a miracle.
Why do I now choose to talk about mental illness at a Celebration of Life? Shouldn’t I instead be talking about the person we’re here to celebrate? As I see it, I *am* talking about this person. Because, no person should be solely defined by their worst days, especially when it involves a corruption of the miraculous. Bessie had problems, which should be no shame because we ALL have problems. For some people, the problems lay closer to the surface than for others. Satan corrupts, but at least we can confront the devil that we can see. If it’s mentionable, it’s manageable, and Bessie had help managing her responsibilities through the years, a LOT of it, from family and friends, from church and state, from social services and sometimes even from strangers. That’s what carried her through; that’s what carried us through. That’s the community that supported the miracle and allowed it to flourish.
God creates, and Satan corrupts, but Jesus compensates and redeems. And I know with certainty that Bessie, now possessing the clarity of mind that comes from occupying Paradise, wants me to say THANK YOU to everyone who loved and continues to love and support her, her family, and her memory.
Bessie tried her living best to be kind to everyone -- usually. (There were a few people who just couldn’t catch a break. For you, apologies from Paradise!) But the one person she really needed to be the kindest to was herself. I wish she had gone to the doctor more frequently. I wish she’d been better about her medication rituals and maybe been more open to believing her doctors. And her kids. I wish my mother had been in regular therapy.
Folks, we’ve ALL got issues, and we should ALL be in therapy. No joke. I just saw a dentist two days ago to fix a chipped tooth, and I pray for a day when a mostly healthy person going to see a therapist is as routine as getting a cleaning. There’s no shame whatsoever in seeking mental health support. It’s there for us when we’re strong to keep us strong, and it’s there for us when we’re not so strong to build us back up. Therapy exists to compensate and help us cope when our own miraculous God-given brains aren’t functioning as they were designed. With that in mind, I’ll say this next part directly so there’s no confusion: Everyone, please be gentle with yourselves, listen to your doctors (but have good instincts), and don’t be afraid to seek out therapy to support your mental health. Be active with this pursuit.
Because God creates, and Satan corrupts, but Jesus compensates and redeems.
To be most effective, all music has movements and dynamics. I’m going to ask everyone present to please participate in the dynamics of Pianissimo, which means to play music very soft, and Fortissimo, which means to play music very loud. We’ll start with the former.
In 1997 during his acceptance speech at the Emmy Awards, Mister Rogers famously asked attendees to observe ten seconds of silence to reflect on those who had "loved them into being” by helping to shape them as people. In his accompanying speech, Rogers expressed gratitude to those who had cared about him and wanted what was best for him. He also shared that his childhood was difficult and that he honestly didn't think he should be where he was in life.
In 1997 during his acceptance speech at the Emmy Awards, Mister Rogers famously asked attendees to observe ten seconds of silence to reflect on those who had "loved them into being” by helping to shape them as people. In his accompanying speech, Rogers expressed gratitude to those who had cared about him and wanted what was best for him. He also shared that his childhood was difficult and that he honestly didn't think he should be where he was in life.
There’s one thing that I do know, and that is you are here for a REASON. Let’s all please take a moment to follow in Mister Rogers’ sneaker-clad footsteps and observe ten seconds of silence to sit and think about all the people who have loved each one of us into being who we are today.
I’ll watch the time.
[Pause for twelve seconds]
I actually cheated just now and gave everyone TWELVE seconds. I’ve found that, sometimes in life, having just a little extra time to spend on loved ones can make everyone’s lives better.
That was Pianissimo; now, for Fortissimo!
Here, at the finale of Bessie’s 85-year symphony, let’s once more reflect on her accomplishments: She was born the youngest of nine siblings, was nicknamed “Baby,” got an inspiring University job fresh out of high school that she flourished at, and bought a home. A young, creative, Black, female, working homeowner in the 1950s in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. On top of this, she achieved her greatest personal ambition and became a mother to a son and two daughters who she always considered her greatest accomplishments, and who loved her through everything. That’s all nothing short of miraculous.
If this woman, through her life and accomplishments, has affected you, or in any way made your life better and brought you joy, I ask that, if you’re able, we all now rise.
Congregation, let us all together fill this church with a joyful noise to celebrate our Minister of Music, God’s miracle and Christian soldier, Bessie Louise!
[Pause for applause!]I’ll watch the time.
[Pause for twelve seconds]
I actually cheated just now and gave everyone TWELVE seconds. I’ve found that, sometimes in life, having just a little extra time to spend on loved ones can make everyone’s lives better.
That was Pianissimo; now, for Fortissimo!
Here, at the finale of Bessie’s 85-year symphony, let’s once more reflect on her accomplishments: She was born the youngest of nine siblings, was nicknamed “Baby,” got an inspiring University job fresh out of high school that she flourished at, and bought a home. A young, creative, Black, female, working homeowner in the 1950s in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. On top of this, she achieved her greatest personal ambition and became a mother to a son and two daughters who she always considered her greatest accomplishments, and who loved her through everything. That’s all nothing short of miraculous.
If this woman, through her life and accomplishments, has affected you, or in any way made your life better and brought you joy, I ask that, if you’re able, we all now rise.
Congregation, let us all together fill this church with a joyful noise to celebrate our Minister of Music, God’s miracle and Christian soldier, Bessie Louise!
Thank you to God, church, Pastor and congregation, my sisters, my family and friends, for taking just a little extra time today to honor our beloved mother. Thanks as well to the doctors and nurses who tended to her during her final weeks. And thank you to Bessie Louise from Little Bessie. I’ll love you forever, and I’m grateful that I got to witness your bravura performance of a lifetime.
Let’s all continue to pray for each other’s health, endurance, and strength in the Lord.
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