An Interview with Tony Tench

 

What inspired you to write Eulogy: Remembering a Life Through God’s Good Word?

Our African friends taught me the wisdom of one of their Chichewa proverbs – nkhwangwa sitwela pa chipala.  Its translation is, “The axe is not sharpened at the forge.”  Its meaning is, “You don’t sharpen an axe when you make it, you sharpen it when you put it to work out in the field.” I found that to be true in ministry as well. My seminary days are cherished in my mind and heart for the sound preparation it gave to me for the tasks of ministry. I think of those lessons often. When it comes to ministry at the time of funerals, there are several authors who have written to equip ministers for this specific area of care and encouragement; I have called on my favorite books often through the years. There were also many lessons I learned from personal experience of “sharpening the axe out in the field” that I wanted to share as an encouragement to other ministers.

As I concluded forty years of ministry, there were “stories of the saints” I did not want to lose or forget. I hope that such stories will urge families to go ahead now and remember their own stories that have defined their values or flavored the way they approached their days in preparation to remember their loved ones. 

 

Did writing Eulogy impact you in any way? Was there anything about the task of writing this book that affected you and your faith journey?

There is a question rattling around in my heart after a career in pastoral ministry, “Did it make a difference?” Writing Eulogy helped me to remember the seemingly small ways, hidden-from-view ways, non-anxiously-present kind of ways, that pastoral ministry meets folks at the time of their struggles and especially as they face their “particular grief” (to remember one of Wayne Oates’s book titles). 

 

As I read the book, I noticed that your examples frequently carried a tone of levity. What is the reaction you get during a eulogy when you tell a funny story about the deceased?

In sermons and in eulogies, humor “just to be funny” has never been an aim I have considered. However, humor that is well-placed to illustrate a lesson from Scripture, or to flavor a person’s life story in a eulogy, can help to “humanize” the moment of reflection. All of us do or say the “funny stuff” that lives on after us, which families are quick to share with ministers in preparation for a eulogy. Looking for a way to allow those stories to support the theme of the person’s life, or the context of the Scripture being referenced, allows the eulogy to have the greatest impact. We have to laugh at ourselves; that is life. Such levity at a funeral draws folks together into a common place where we lovingly remember our relationships.

Further, grieving is heavy. The songs we sing, Scriptures we read, the quiet moments, and the emotion-filled words shared by family all bring us to the point of tears. Humorous stories shared during the eulogy help folks have a break from the weight of their grief so that they can keep going, even relax a bit. Smiles and laughter helps folks to feel at ease about expressing the other emotions of grief they are experiencing.

 

In Eulogy, you break down the different elements you would consider when drafting a eulogy. Did you learn anything about your writing process that you weren’t conscious of?

Through the years my writing process has developed little by little, so I am not aware of any new lesson coming from writing Eulogy in reference to process. Whether sermons or eulogies, my process has basically been like a population of the bubbles on a bubble map—decide on the passage or theme as the central map idea, then create separate bubbles into which I organize the material that I learn from the families sharing with me about their loved ones, the experiences I had with the deceased, and the thrust of the Scripture passages that will be at the heart of the message. I then prioritize the bubbles into an outline, always looking for the finale to be the good news of the promise of resurrection.

 

You share a lot of incredible stories of sacrifice and bravery from WWII veterans and civilians. What drew you to their stories?

Over the years, I have had many experiences officiating funerals for military veterans of varied ages. With every passing year it was obvious that the WWII era veterans were passing away quickly. In fact, if folks from that era were 20 years old at war’s end in 1945, they would be turning 101 this year.  With their passing is also the passing of the firsthand accounts of their experiences as servants of our nation and as servants of their world neighbors in the face of existential and moral threat.

Perhaps, we can turn to various turning points in our nation’s history when there was common ground on which Americans stood together. One of those times in the past century has to be the American response to the Second World War. The stories of the men and women who served on battlefields; in factories; in leadership and in victory gardens, encouraging everyone to “Keep the Home Fires Burning” are stories that inspire us toward courage, heroism, and toward the hope that common ground is doable again.

Having been able to meet and get to know some of those folks with whom I walked to the graveside has compelled me to hold on to their stories as examples of the influence individual lives have upon the larger human experience. 

 

In one portion of the book, you describe a moving funeral you witnessed during your mission in Africa. How did witnessing their community and community support touch you? What can we learn from their care and take into our own church communities?

Funerals in Malawi, like funerals closer to home, are conducted in numerous ways according to local traditions.  I had attended other funerals in Malawi but had not witnessed what I saw on that day. After the service was completed, right in the middle of the village out in front of the deceased’s home, the rough-hewn coffin was borne by six men from the porch of the home as everyone from the village walked behind them toward the cemetery. Suddenly, the villagers began to take turns reaching for the coffin, replacing the original bearers two-by-two. As new folks reached for the coffin and those carrying it peeled off to join the mass walking together, I was impressed by the visual impact of the proceeding. By the time we reached the grave, the whole village had carried the coffin to the grave. Their actions became a metaphor in my mind.  When fellow believers pass away, the whole of the church is to walk with them through their family’s grief. Some will pray, some will bring food, some will provide the shoulders on which they cry, some will give needed advice, some will serve as counselors, but all will show their love, as “one part suffers, every part suffers with it” (1 Cor. 12:26 CJB).

Two aspects of this experience linger with me. First, the response of neighbors from the village was natural, automatic, even.  No one announced how they were going to bear the coffin to the cemetery; they just did it. It’s what they did for one another. They cared all the way to the grave. Second, I was so surprised by the communal compassion that I was moved to tears as I walked along with them. This later aspect is a reminder of Wayne Oates’s wisdom offered to his students during times of “pastoral care in human crisis.” He advised us to “promise a little but answer with a lot.”

Promises are too easily broken given the nature and demands on pastors’ schedules. So, do not promise to be or do everything when the time comes. However, make every effort to be there and attend to the needs of the family and the event. And when you do, folks are so surprised by the therapeutic response that it encourages them and often moves them to tears of joy, confession, and confidence in God’s presence to help them—the message ministers are charged to convey.

 

If someone considered filing away sayings, stories, mementos, etc. of you, what would you hope that minster would save to highlight the life you’ve lived thus far?

Well, I was not expecting this kind of question. It forced me to do what I encourage folks to do in the book. It was good for me to do this. Thanks for asking.

A Scripture passage. Proverbs 3:5-6 has been the foundational verse for my marriage. Janet and I have each been guided by the encouragement of these verses, and they have become our shared life verses as God has lead us into friendship, companionship, love, trust, and care across our forty-seven years together.

A memento. In our cedar chest is a t-shirt I made at our church’s Vacation Bible School when our daughter Erin was a toddler. It is a white t-shirt with Erin’s handprints in blue—all the kids were making t-shirts with their handprints and names that year. Above her handprints, instead of just her name, I painted the words, “Erin’s Dad.”  It has been a prized possession, and I have worn it proudly over the years. When she was born, our world changed, and we were blessed by being her parents. I believe I was created to be the dad of a daughter. Janet and I received such a gift by her birth.

A photo (or two). Becoming grandparents has been such a delight. Memories of Mattie at the storm door of their house, jumping up and down when we drove up to visit, or bracing ourselves for Jase to coming running with a great big hug to greet us, create inexplicable joy upon recall! I have two photos, one of each of the grands, with me on the floor, coloring while looking up at each other.  I have loved getting close to them on the floor, in the pick-up line at school, or just being together. As Janet is prone to say, “This is our happy place.”

A bit of bibliophila. A book and a cup of coffee is fun way to relax, learn, and stretch my mind. I have enjoyed building personal libraries—one I mostly left behind at our church when we moved to Africa, another I mostly left behind when we moved stateside from Africa, another I mostly distributed when downsizing offices, and yet another dispersed when leaving the office for good. My current collection is accompanied by two framed replica pages from the Gutenberg Bible (the first page of John’s Gospel and the first page of Revelation), printed in Germany on a replica of the Gutenberg press in Mainz. Since the Gutenberg Bible was the first major book printed with moveable type, and thus the forerunner of every bibliophile’s joy, these pages represent much that is special to my journey.

A stack of Bibles. God’s word in Scripture has always been at the heart of life and thought for me. The stack of Bibles in my study represents the ever-presence of Bible study in my life toward spiritual formation. In the stack: the Scofield Reference Bible given to me by my parents on the occasion of my seventh grade graduation (I am thankful for my mom’s faithful prodding to read and abide by its word); the New American Standard Bible engraved with “Rev,” given by the church on the occasion of my ordination; the worn out, choirs-coming-apart, New International Version Bible I have used daily for decades; Bibles in Chichewa, Tumbuka, Portuguese, Spanish, Macedonian that represent mission experiences across the years; the Greek New Testament, which has been a gift from God in understanding his word (I thank God for my teachers and examples of scholarship I have known); and the “note-taking” Bibles that are filled with notes, drawings, colors, and thoughts, as I have interacted with God’s word annually—“a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path!”

A credo. Over the years I have tried to send handwritten notes to folks as they are experiencing the highs and lows of life. I have looked at the notes as “ministerial prescriptions” similar to a doctor’s pad, as I use them to highlight a passage of Scripture to address the situation that folks are facing. Now, many would accuse me of trying to imitate a doctor because of my atrocious handwriting. In fact, a man told me once that it took him, his wife, and both kids to figure out what I had written on one of those cards.  I told him, “I am always happy to bring families together!” Nevertheless, above my signature I habitually wrote, “In the Love of Jesus.” Therein is my credo, “the love of Jesus.” I hope I have been able to raise up Jesus for others. He has always answered every question I have ever had about God (of course he would since God has always been like Jesus: Heb 1:1-3!). Jesus has also always answered my questions about human life since he has lived before us, and within us, to help us fulfill what God expects to see out of us (Rom 8:29).

 A final word. “Amoyo salekana.” This is a word spoken by our Malawian friends when departing from one another. It is translated, “Those who are alive cannot be separated.”  The idea is, as long as we are alive, we may very well bump into each other again along the way, so our parting is not a hard “good-bye.”  The good news is that those who are alive in Christ will never be separated from him or from one another because of the hope and promise of resurrection into his eternal presence. Thanks be to God.

I am not sure what might end up on my tombstone one day, but I am good with this simple phrase, for it is what I believe in the face of death, “Amoyo salekana.”