Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [94]
That was the first time Rhonda and her father ever had an actual conversation. They talked about the differences between Eastern, Western, and African philosophy. They talked about God, karma, and reincarnation. They argued, debated, and yelled. He conceded some points to her. She conceded some to him. He agreed that African culture had been widely misrepresented throughout the world, and that African people had the oldest recorded spiritual history. But he was less than thrilled that his daughter was involved in something he couldn’t spell, let alone pronounce.
“Do they cremate?” Daddy asked.
“I sure hope not,” she answered. “Who wants to be burned? Not me. I am not that fond of fire.”
Daddy became reflective. “I want to be cremated.”
Rhonda was stunned. “Are you serious? Why are you talking about that?”
“Make sure that Edna and Ma have me cremated.”
Rhonda stood up to leave. She was ready to walk out.
“Ronnie, sit down; shut up and listen.” Rhonda had never heard that gentle, yet stern, tone in her father’s voice before.
“I know I have never told you this before, but I think it’s time. God and only God knows why you are here. God has something for you to do, and God knows, I don’t know what that is. What I do know is that you can do anything you want if you put God first in your life. It doesn’t matter what you call God, or if you know God the African way. Just put Him first.”
“How do you know God is a He?” Rhonda asked. Daddy thought about it a moment.
“I don’t know, and neither does anyone else.”
Rhonda was in a state of shock and disbelief. Daddy had become a philosopher. Not only that, but thirty years into her life, he was sharing his philosophy with her. This was new. This was different. It made her very uncomfortable. Daddy said he wished he’d known earlier that God had something for him to do. He sounded remorseful, yet deeply reflective. He was making Rhonda very nervous.
“So, are you coming to my ceremony? This is a very big step in my life.” Rhonda wanted Daddy to be there and was disappointed, but not surprised, at his response.
“I don’t think so. I mean, when is it? I can’t. I have to go to temple.”
One of the many spiritualists whom Rhonda had sought out told her that it was her destiny to be a minister. She never dreamed it would be in the African tradition. The only ministers she had ever known were the ones she’d seen at Grandma’s church. She had stopped going to church as a young woman, because she was still a “sinner.” According to the Holiness church, everything was a sin. Rhonda got tired of ministers telling her that she was going to burn in hell for smoking, for wearing nail polish, and most of all for having and enjoying sex. She figured if she left Jesus alone, Jesus would leave her alone.
To be a Yoruba meant that you did not go to church. All of your spiritual work was done in your home or the homes of other priests. It meant that your Bible was the Oracle of Ifa, the sacred scriptures of the Yoruba people, which predated the Christian Bible by two thousand years. It also meant that you had to study about herbs, planets, numbers, and all sorts of things that Grandma’s church frowned upon. Rhonda didn’t care; she would risk going to hell if it meant getting her soul in order. To be a Yoruba priest, Rhonda was told, meant learning how to be whole, mind, body, and spirit, and how to minister to the whole person. You must know how life and the universe of life function. You must understand that life is more than what we can see; life is tangible and intangible, with visible and invisible spheres of energy. It is the priest’s job to help people maintain their balance on all the levels of life.
Of the seven-day initiation process, the actual ceremony took only three. The other four days were spent listening, learning, and resting.