Shama Nanni

Shama Nanni

It had been a long hard year. Things had changed from one Thanksgiving to this one. It was, in fact, the first one after the divorce. All the kids who could had decided to be with Mom for that first Thanksgiving. Analea had come with her partner from CA and John and I and the Kids came from Texas and the AZ folk were there too.

We were making the best of it.

The traditional, yummy, Thanksgiving feast was prepared in generous and traditional ways. Sweet potatoes with marshmallows, Mashed white potatoes, (something green) probably string beans, and of Course the beauty of the pure simple Turkey and gravy. Desert was there and a good time was had by all. Almost/

The India dishes were brought out and the table set. The Bull platter was used again for the turkey. We feasted and laughed and feasted some more.

I think this was the year we had a go-cart running on the dirt road in Casa Grande. Betsy had survived a big ride over the side of the road hanging on to the go cart as it bounced in the air because the brakes weren’t working.

We were making the best of it. We didn’t know The Best was yet to come! We had all noted, however, that as the day progressed Mom got more and more quiet and sad. She wasn’t standing up straight as usual. (Add deep sigh.)

We had eaten, hand washed the India dishes, and were putting things away before we had dessert.

As the “Bull Platter”was being dried Mom told the story one more time about having sent Bill to the store in Wellsville to get a turkey platter and he came home with this one. A Bull with anatomy to prove it. She held the platter up. She just kept looking at it.

I said to Mom I think you should get rid of that platter, because in the retelling you obviously got sad recalling all the other family meals that it had been used. I remembered it from every time she brought it out when I was part of the family. Every time.

I suggested she throw it away. No, it’s still a good platter, Mom said. I

said well give it to someone at the office or some where she won’t really know where it is. We suggested she give it to the sweet girl who cleaned her house. Analea agreed right away that passing it on was a good idea. But it was dried, put back in the sideboard.

We ate dessert and still found laughter and stories to bring us solace.

Everyone left but those of us staying at the house.

Mom went to bed early. Sad and really tired.

Analea and partner and John and I were up still up talking, Johnny and Betsy, asleep.

Mom appeared out of her room and went into the garage area. We had seen her come out but at first didn’t see she came prepared.

Mom found a heavy mallet/hammer and a shovel.

She had on her moccasins and a scarf tired around her forehead.

Come over here she said.

She had scarves/headbands from all around the world for each of us including John. We tied them around our brows. She had her Bible and handed it to me. Bring the shovel she ordered John. He did.

She had candles for all of us. We stood on the patio and lighted the candles. She reached in the sideboard and pulled out THE PLATTER.

Follow me! Mom said, and we did.

I started singing Shama Nanni. Shama Nanni Hey Hey Hey Good bye. Everyone joined in as we processed.

(Fyi What does Shama mean biblically? to hear, to listen

It means to give attention, to understand, to submit to, and to obey. There is only one word in Hebrew for obedience, and it is this word – shama. This Hebrew word is also generally translated as “hear”.)

We followed Mom out into the back of her desert yard. Crystal, her dog, had dug a big hole. Mom had commented on it earlier wondering what Crystal had planned for it.

Mom turned to me “Bobbie, Now read something from the Bible.”

I turned to Psalm 50

The Mighty One, God the Lord,
speaks and summons the earth
    from the rising of the sun to its setting.

Verse 9. I will accept no bull from your house

We all laughed while I wondered if I could lose my ordination over this natural forming ritual.

Mom put the platter in the hole so it was suspended over the hole.

She declared, “This is for you breaking your vows over the years.”

Whack Whack Whack. The sound was amazing in the silent desert night.

She handed the hammer to Analea who made her own declaration, and the hammer was passed around. Each time the crack was amazingly loud as the platter was broken again and again. It went around twice to all the Gathered Ones. Every once in a while someone said, I will accept No Bull from your house.

Fill it in…and she pointed to John who quickly filled in the hole with the surrounding sand and packed it down. Mom tipped her candle and dripped wax on the top. We all did the same.

But then she put down her candle and she danced in her moccasins on top as we sang Shama Nanni again.

She stopped. Declared it was time to go inside. Ritual was over. We followed her in. Once inside she gathered the scarf head bands, gave all of us a kiss and went to bed.

We stood there together in a kind of wonder.

The next morning we all got up and were eating breakfast that Analea had cooked. Mom came out of her room looking radiant. Really no other word fits to describe her. She said she hadn’t slept much but that was ok. She said that was ok because she had spent the night going over the Good-good times and years she and Bill had built together. She said she thought of each of the kids and families and had to be proud of their accomplishments.

She said once she “Buried the Bull” the Good times dominated her thoughts.

She looked so much younger than she did the whole of Thanksgiving day and remained peaceful.

Oh there were hard times to come again and sadness would come some time but from then on there was a shift. There was a freedom she had that she would not lose in the years ahead.

I did a lot of work on Women and Ritual. But it all started with Shama Nanni

Thanks Mom. Aka Dr. Gladys Taylor McGarey

We made it through the Last First Thanksgiving and her Birthday after she is gone from us)

What Followed

This ritual I had written up for the introduction to my Doctorate of Ministry Project. I knew the story had power when was sitting in a national Presbyterian Youth meeting when I was with a group of pastor chaperones. I had never met any of them. I said, “I am Bobbie McGarey.” A colleague yelled across the room… “Are you THE Bobbie McGarey? Your paper saved my life.” After the meeting was over she and I sat outside talking and she told me how it had given her freedom when she was going through a divorce. I wanted to know how she got a copy and she said that one of the two advisor professors had given it to her and several other clergy women who were going through divorce. I was surprised by this as I hadn’t been asked or given permission for this preface to my Doctor of Ministry project to be shared. I was happy that it had helped them.

At a National Presbyterian Women’s Meeting I used it to begin my workshop on Ritual. “Ritual, Pastoral Care, and Women in Mid-life Transitions” was the title of that Doctoral Project. I did a lot of study on ritual and it’s importance in times of transition. I even have a method for individuals to determine their own rituals. Not everyone needs to break a platter. Nor would it be appropriate.

I sent150 postcards with two questions on it to the Presbyterian Women’s National gathering a few years later. and asked folk attending to pass them out. I got 124 responses. I asked. 1) What transitions have you experienced in your life? 2) How did the Church help you mark that time. The responses could only be so long because of the space on the cards. But many of the responses were heart touching because the question seemed to resonate with the women. I deduced that to be true because I got so many responses. They wanted to share.

Because of some odd to me theological shift from my advisors on my Project and their abandoning their support and the time last time I met with them they suggested I write a whole chapter on Feminist Theology, which was not the point of my project, I pulled out of that program. The paper is essentially finished. (The sign that I was not going to progress was when one professor said, “It says here that rituals resonate with women… what in the world does resonate mean? “ They both shook their heads in disbelief.

I did complete a Doctorate at a different seminary with a new topic, using the internet to connect clergy women in isolated ministry locations using online Lectio Divina.

It all started though with Shama Nanni

Bobbie McGarey,

Photo

Gladys McGarey, Analea McGarey, Bobbie McGarey

Friend of Analea