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Bethlehem News

'All will be well': Moravian Bishop Hopeton Clennon remembered with outpouring of love at funeral

Funeral procession vehicles for Bishop Hopeton Clennon's service on Saturday, Jan. 20, 2024
Julian Abraham
/
LehighValleyNews.com
Funeral procession vehicles parked outside Central Moravian Church in Bethlehem on Saturday, Jan. 20, 2024.

BETHLEHEM, Pa. — On Saturday morning, hundreds of community members showed up to pay their respects to the late Bishop C. Hopeton Clennon at Central Moravian Church.

More than 1,000 people also tuned in online, sending condolences and prayers from around the world.

Clennon, who was well-known in virtually every community he passed through in his 63 years of life, died Jan. 7 after a battle with pancreatic cancer.

On the YouTube livestream of the funeral services, commenters shared hearts, hands praying, and expressions of sorrow in the form of emojis, and long, thoughtful paragraphs, written under the YouTube live video.

Many of those commenters were based in Kingston, Jamaica, where Clennon was born and spent the early part of his life.

Clennon, the retired senior pastor at Central Moravian Church, was ordained in 1983 and moved to the U.S. in 1989. He led Moravian communities across the country since then — including Washington, D.C.; near Los Angeles, California; in Nazareth; and most recently in Bethlehem. He was consecrated in 1998 as the 320th Bishop of Moravian Unity, to lead the organization internationally, according to the Moravian Church's online biography.

'Gone home'

"He's gone home," his daughter, Danielle Landis, said in her eulogy on Saturday morning. Landis described the experience of writing a speech to commemorate her father as exceptionally difficult.

"One of my dad's greatest gifts was his ability to shine a light on the gifts of others and invite all to come as they are, with what they can, while he believed each and every one of us to be special. He didn't make us special. He just shone a light on what was already there."
Danielle Landis, daughter of Bishop C. Hopeton Clennon

"Not just because I'm still processing the fact that he's gone home," Landis said. "But because ironically, he was the one I would often turn to when I didn't know what to say. He just had a way of understanding someone's spirit that could make what's in your heart just naturally flow out of you."

Central Moravian Church at Christmas.jpg
Courtesy
/
Central Moravian Church
The Central Moravian Church during its Festival of Carols on Dec. 2 in Bethlehem.

Despite saying she struggled to write the speech, Landis delivered a beautiful series of anecdotes and memories of her late father that had the crowd weeping at points, and laughing during others. There were moments of comic relief sprinkled in — a technique that others described as something her late father mastered.

"When I was in grade school, I had a bully," Landis said, while on the topic of her early childhood under the wing of her father.

"My father kept asking questions about this guy — 'Where did he live?', 'Who were his parents?' and every time he would come to my class to volunteer or help out, he would pay special attention to this kid, and see how he was doing.

"And I was totally cool with it," Landis said with a clear sarcastic tone. "No, I hated it! I was like 'What are you doing fraternizing with the enemy?'"

After some relieved-sounding laughs in the church pews, Landis explained that her father got the child to like him, and he left her alone for the rest of the year.

"It made my life a lot easier," she said. "Looking back, I'm just so in awe of the man who instinctively sought to move upstream, and see that hurt people hurt people, and maybe they just need to know that someone is in their corner."

Finishing up her speech, Landis said, "One of my dad's greatest gifts was his ability to shine a light on the gifts of others and invite all to come as they are, with what they can, while he believed each and every one of us to be special."

"He didn't make us special. He just shone a light on what was already there. I think the lights of those he has met will continue to make the world a brighter place."

'All will be well'

Most of the speakers at the funeral repeated a phrase that Clennon was known to say often: "All will be well."

In Landis' eulogy, it was expressed as something that could bring those grieving — including herself — comfort during their time of sadness.

"I think the lights of those he has met will continue to make the world a brighter place. And so with that, I will say rest easy in the kingdom of heaven, Dad. We know all will be well," she said.

Son Andrew Clennon shared the phrase, in the context of how he felt while spending time with his father, especially during periods when he really needed advice.

"I really came to appreciate that as I got older," Andrew said. "Whatever it is you're going through — all will be well."

Clennon said his father was never condescending when he had those sorts of conversations with him but treated him like an equal and helped him problem-solve in a calm, respectful way.

"Even if we ended up disagreeing, all would be well."

'What matters, is you came looking for me'

One story Andrew told on the podium landed especially meaningfully with the crowd and brought many to tears.

"In that moment, I know I felt so much shame, and it's been eating me up since I was a kid. And the first thing he said was: 'What's important is that you came looking for me. All will be well.'"
Son Andrew Clennon

Andrew began the story by saying it was something that happened a long time ago, and that he wanted to make sure he told his father before he passed away.

"When I was 14 or 15, I would go on trips in the summer over the weekends, and he would come — he was a photographer as you all know. He loves taking pictures. Now me, being the 14-, 15 year-old boy I was — I wanted to play with my friends. I remember specifically, he was taking our pictures, as he does. And me, as I would do at that time, I was dismissive and rude. I just wanted play time."

Taking a two-second break, Andrew paused to gather his composure.

"So me and my friends, we went to eat. And after that was done, I went to look for my dad because I wanted to go see him. So I looked around the whole campsite, and eventually went to go ask somebody where he was — and they told me he had left — about the time when I was being a dumb kid and ignoring him," Andrew said.

"I held on to that until I saw him in the hospital bed on the 26th. And I kind of knew I wanted to tell him, but it went from having a plan, to 'Something was gonna happen so this might be the last time I get to talk to him.'

"In that moment, I know I felt so much shame, and it's been eating me up since I was a kid. And the first thing he said was: 'What's important, is that you came looking for me. All will be well.'"

Andrew added that despite gaining some closure from the moment, he never formally got to have a "goodbye" conversation with his father.

At that moment, he looked at the casket containing his late father, and tearfully said, "Goodbye Dad — until I see you again."