A Guango Tree Has Fallen

My American friend Dr Tim Erdel (tim.erdel@betheluniversity.edu) described the death of Dr Peter Spencer as the death of a Jamaican guango tree – how apt. The guango is a large, wide spreading tree, beautifully proportioned. The tree folds its leaves at night and when it's cloudy, causing moisture to collect under it. This often makes the grass under a guango tree greener than the grass around it.

Peter Nathaniel Cyril Spencer was one of my boyhood heroes. When my father, Paul Erdel, visited the Caribbean and returned full of stories, his enthusiasm for a gifted young graduate from the Jamaica Theological Seminary knew no bounds. The name of Peter Spencer was a legendary one in our home for many years, long before I actually met Peter or his good wife, Madge.

In the providence of God, both Peter and Madge would become our family’s gracious sponsors and superiors, when Sally, my wife, and I lived in Jamaica with our three children. Peter was President of the Missionary Church Association, under whose aegis I obtained a work permit, as well as the Chair of the Board of Jamaica Theological Seminary, on whose campus we served. Madge was the Director of the Zenas Gerig Library, my primary appointment.

Peter seemed to be involved in everything of consequence in Jamaican Church life, on endless boards and steering committees. He was a strong and reassuring presence wherever he went, a wise, thoughtful, incredibly patient pastor, leader, and counselor. It seemed as though he knew everyone. He understood people and their needs. He navigated frustrating bureaucracies in ways that affirmed others. Our years in Jamaica were made possible day-after-day by the gentle, unobtrusive guidance and hospitality of Peter and Madge Spencer. Their insightful commentaries on Jamaican life and culture helped us appreciate more fully the gifts and strengths of our new neighbors and colleagues.

Over time, I began to realize that my boyhood hero was truly a giant, though clothed in humility and meekness. He had made his mark in US history, when he went to South Carolina for graduate studies. He broke the color line and helped integrate higher education in that deeply segregated state, despite the overt prejudices of a Jim Crow setting that barred him from attending white churches or entering public restaurants. The humiliating experiences Peter faced there might have broken weaker men, or filled them with bitterness. But Peter took everything in stride, however hurtful his trials, and allowed the injustices he endured to meld and mold his character into one of deep empathy for others, of a determined fairness that could absorb misplaced criticisms. He would bite his tongue when others lost their tempers, and would calmly reply to those who failed to appreciate what he did for them.

Peter’s influence was felt not only throughout Jamaica and on across the Caribbean, but in distant lands, as he met with Missionary Church leaders from around the globe. Soon after Sally and I moved to the US to teach at Bethel College, Peter was invited to serve on its board too, and he would deliver the commencement address there in 1996, when his daughter, Laurie-Ann, graduated with two degrees. I rejoiced when the Caribbean Graduate School of Theology recognized both Peter and Madge with honorary doctorates in 2010. During Black History Month in 2013, Peter was honored by Columbia International University, back in South Carolina, for his pioneering role there.

The Bethel University campus is filled with large oak trees. When a leader dies, we speak of a fallen mighty oak. When I think of Jamaican Theological Seminary, I think of the massive guango tree that shaded our home there. A giant guango tree has fallen, but we live in the hope of the Resurrection.