Our father at Phillips Temple

     

Howard A. Shepherd

Our father at Phillips Temple

He was a religious man. I like to think of him as spiritual. On Sunday, after communion at Phillips Temple CME Church, where my family has attended for five generations, we sang the Lord’s Prayer. And my father, God rest his soul, was present.

Pastor Ramon Stripling preached an awesome sermon about not wasting this new year, 2026. As he started communion he instructed us to turn to 608 in our CME hymnals. Dad would have loved this and I felt him smiling from heaven. Why?

Our father, dad to Lyssa, Larry and Leslie, was very practical. I could hear his spirit applauding because on that, Phillip’s Temple was not wasting paper printing the holy communion, “when it’s right there!” And I smiled.

He would have said those words at church with the same enthusiasm and vitriol as when he watched Rosey Grier’s LA Rams play football (apparently the only surviving member of the “Fearsome Foursome” who included Grier - who turned 93 on July 14, 2025 - Deacon Jones, Merlin Olsen, and Lamar Lundy).  

Rosey Grier

Grier #76 famously tackled Sirhan Sirhan after the gunman assassinated Robert F. Kennedy Sr. in Los Angeles at the Ambassador Hotel.  The hotel is long gone, but the stage and its facade remain as part of the Robert F. Kennedy Community Schools auditorium. Watching football I can still hear our father yelling, “Aww, come on!”  I find myself saying the same watching today’s Matthew Stafford LA Rams.  

But, back to communion.

Oops not at 608 though, but at 609 in the hymnal. Picking up the green hymnal with the gilded golden lettering

on the cover (my Dad had several editions at home), which is about the same size as the bible, and the pages are just about as thin, yet durable and it has a particular scent of tradition, ink, binding and the faith of hundreds over the decades of parishioners browsing the athems and CME procedures. It’s treated with similar reverence as the bible.

   

Flipping these pages of the hymnal, rather than scrolling a digital device, turned out to be a good test for me,

Rev. Yvonne Coley, graphics by Leslie Florence Shepherd Taylor

because I saw with my own eyes that the holy communion was on 609, but I turned to 608 anyway, being obedient and patient, because the pastor said so. Plus, I didn’t know what was in store.

But as I read along with Stripling, the words didn’t match. My insides screamed to let him know, “Pastor, it’s on 609,” but God forced me to be patient and so I closed my eyes.  When I did I could hear the voices of other worshipers as they read along correctly, a few at first and then more and more voices began to join in.  I pointed to the page with 609 for my mom who sat one seat over in the same row with my husband between us. I felt such an ease of spirit in my soul.  

“Let go and let God.”  No problem, my dad’s spirit guided me, us, back to 609 and I gained so much that day as we helped each other out, patiently.

Howard Shepherd protecting his family

From there I could feel the warmth of Howard Shepherd’s guiding spirit; his spirit was becoming fully formed with each of the sacred words. I could feel my blood pressure lowering, peace enveloping me and a type of joy I cannot really describe other than a very warm feeling, like a soft, super soft blanket.

I could hear Aunt Yvonne’s voice with every “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”

When the preacher was preaching you could hear auntie say, “My, my, my,” from the choir stand.

Just before breaking the bread, we sang slowly the Lord’s prayer. Continuing to close my eyes, I could feel the presence of my ancestors who’ve attended Phillips Temple: Christelle Rowe, my great-grandmother and charter member of the flower guild at Phillips Temple; Alphonson Shepherd, who sang in the choir and Christelle was his mother; his first wife, my beloved grandmother Florence Shepherd, mother to Yvonne, Howard and Hard and a bona fide prayer warrior. 

Hardy Shepherd

Florence Harper Shepherd

I feel my dad’s presence in the air and Uncle Hardy, too. 

I envisioned grandmother Shepherd clapping and smiling after she put in her full set of dentures, those same teeth that sat on the night stand in a glass of water and gave her a beautiful smile. 

So many loved ones have come through the doors of this church. It felt so good to start off the first Sunday of the new year in the presence of my ancestors and church family. It felt secure and welcoming to sit in the pew with my mom, sister and husband, to fellowship with familiar faces of folks who knew them and know us.