Tears and dancing

I stand in a sea of South Africans. We are singing. Men have lined up in front of us and about 10 of them have picked up shovels working their way through a pile of dirt about 6 feet high. The orange sand is slowly filling the large rectangular hole in the ground at their feet. As I stare at the pile slowly diminishing, I start to cry. It’s an eerie scene as our sea of people merges with a sea just to our left… fellow mourners, also singing and watching men from their group fill another 6 foot deep hole just 2 graves away. The men are shoveling with such force and fury that I can’t help but see the anger that they must be feeling. Some men have to be forced to relinquish their shovels so another man in the group can take his turn. In just 10 or 15 minutes, both graves are filled and the excess dirt is piled in a mound over where the coffin lays 6 feet under.

When both graves are filled, the singing is stopped. One pastor speaks to both groups in a language I can’t understand. Then, our group has a spokesman who says some final words about the deceased… again addressing both groups. The other group does the same- their spokesman also talking to the entire crowd. Finally, a pastor gives the benediction to all assembled “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit, be with you all. Amen.” And we all depart.

I’ve never seen a graveside service like this. In my experiences in the states, it’s usually a very private time. Not everyone who went to the funeral would go to the graveside… it seems like a more private time for family and friends. The family is front and center and usually has front row seats. Also, if there is another funeral going on in the cemetery, it’s usually at least several rows away and the family is given their own personal bubble. I also know people who don’t like seeing the casket being lowered into the ground at the end of the service because it’s so physically final.

However, in this case, the first order of business was the burial. Mourners were the ones filling the grave. The family was set back from the grave and probably could see very little of what was happening. We combined with the group next to us and as we left, there was a row of open graves waiting to be filled later that day.

How have I lived here in South Africa for so long without experiencing a funeral? Perhaps I have been fortunate. Death is a significant part of life here… something that is experienced often. Additionally, I suspect that because of the anti-apartheid struggle and the HIV/Aids pandemic, the death of young people is also a rather familiar and frequent occurrence.

Perhaps it was a fortunate thing that I was able to live here for so long without attending a funeral. However, I felt I was at a huge disadvantage on Good Friday when I experienced what felt like a huge dose of culture shock as people danced and sang in celebration on a day that has always felt like the ultimate funeral to me. I have memories of Good Friday being somber, mournful, dark and quiet. However, as I went to church for the entire day on Good Friday, it was a day of celebration! People were dancing in the aisles of the church, singing, playing instruments and to me it just didn’t feel right!

After attending this funeral over the weekend, I understand a little better what was happening on Good Friday. At the funeral itself, there was a lot of dancing and singing and it was far less depressing than funerals I’ve been to in the states. The man who died was rather young and left a large family. Yet people were there to celebrate his life and rejoice in God’s promises for making us whole despite the brokenness and injustice of this world.

Why these differences? Why do we as Americans cry so much at our funerals? Why don’t we like seeing the grave being filled? Why do we like our graveside experience to be so private and closed off? Perhaps it is because death is such a significant part of life in this culture and people are less afraid of it. Perhaps it is because the entire culture is more focused on community and death is understood as being a part of our human condition.

I’m not sure what it is exactly. All I know is that as tears fell from my eyes at the grave of a man I had never met, I looked around me and saw the sea of South Africans dancing and singing… this man’s friends, family and co-workers. I saw a range of emotions; joy, anger, numbness. But above all else, I saw a community. Some were strangers, some friends, and some would never see each other again. But all were united in the understanding that death affects us all and is part of our experience as humans. And in response to that reality, we stood among the graves dancing together.