from Sorrow Songs—the Ground of Hope
(part five)

To think of life, then, as a pilgrimage means that not only is life characterized by an undertow of continuity but also that the individual has no alternative but to participate responsibly in that continuity. It is this concept rooted in the New Testament interpretation of the meaning of life that is to be found in many of the Spirituals. A few of such songs have been mentioned in other connections. One of the great utterances of this character is:

Done made my vow to the Lord,
And I never will turn back,
I will go, I shall go,
to see what the end will be.

My strength, Good Lord, is almost gone.
I will go, I will go,
To see what the end will be.
But you have told me to press on,
I will go, I shall go,
To see what the end will be.

The goal of the pilgrimage looms large by inference in some of the songs. The goal is not defined as such in many of them—but the fact of the goal pervades the temper with which the journey is undertaken or endured. There is something filled with breathless anticipation and great strength in these lines:

Wait a little while,
Then we'll sing a new song.
Wait a little while,
Then we'll sing a new song.

Sometimes I get a heavenly view,
Then we'll sing a new song.
And then my trials are so few,
Then we'll sing a new song.

There is no attempt to cast a false glow over the stock ruggedness of the journey. The facts of experience are seen for what they are—difficult, often even unyielding:

It is a mighty rocky road,
Most done traveling.
Mighty rocky road,
Most done traveling.
Mighty rocky road
Bound to carry my soul to the Lord.

Hold out your light you heaven-bound soldier,
Let your light shine around the world.

Of the sheer will to carry on under the compelling images of a great commitment, what could be more accurately expressive than:

Stay in the field,
Stay in the field,
Until the war is ended.
Mine eyes are turned to the heavenly gate,
Till the war is ended.
I'll keep my way, or I'll be too late,
Till the war is ended.

Here is still another variation of the same basic theme:

Oh, my good Lord, show me the way.
Enter the chariot, travel along.
Noah sent out a mourning dove.
Enter the chariot, travel along.
Which brought back a token of heavenly love.
Enter the chariot, travel along.

What, then, is the fundamental significance of all these interpretations of life and death? What are these songs trying to say? They expressed the profound conviction that God was not done with them, that God was not done with life. The consciousness that God had not exhausted his resources, or better still that the vicissitudes of life could not exhaust God's resources, did not ever leave them. This is the secret of their ascendancy over circumstances and the basis of their assurances concerning life and death. The awareness of the presence of a God who was personal, intimate, and active was the central fact of life and around it all the details of life and destiny were integrated.

It must be borne in mind that there seems to be little place in their reckoning for the distinction between God and Jesus. In some of the songs the terms God and Jesus are used interchangeably—to illustrate:

Did you ever see such a man as God?
A little more faith in Jesus.
A-preaching the gospel to the poor,
A little more faith in Jesus.

For the most part, a very simple theory of the incarnation is ever present. The simpler assumptions of Christian orthodoxy are utilized. There was no elaborate scheme of separate office and function between God and Jesus and only a very rare reference to the Holy Spirit. Whether the song uses the term, Jesus, or the oft repeated Lord, or Saviour, or God, the same insistence is present—God is in them, in their souls, as they put it, and what is just as important, he is in the facts of their world. In short, God is active in history in a personal and primary manner. People who live under great pressures, grappling with tremendous imponderables which left to themselves they could not manage, have no surplus energy for metaphysical distinctions. Such distinctions apart from the necessity of circumstances or urgency of spirit, belong to those upon whom the hold of the environment is relatively relaxed. Urgency forces a search for the ultimate, which ultimate in the intensity of demand is incorporated in the warp and woof of immediacy.

(For the Inward Journey: the writings of Howard Thurman.
Selected by Anne Spencer Thurman. pages 212-214
Originally published in The Negro Spiritual Speaks of Life and Death)

These songs that are filled with sorrow and Thurman insists are the ground of hope I have been observing throughout my life. I learned some in the freedom songs of the civil rights movement; I delighted to hear Andrea Bradford share some of her father’s settings of them; and I have sung concert versions of them in choirs all my life.

When I was co-leading a theater program at the Martin Luther King Jr. Middle School in Dorchester, Massachusetts, actress and community leader Ellen Field and I were working with two dozen eighth grade students who were enacting stories of their own families. Each had brought a story of their grandparents, and more than a few included the stories of migration from the south. Several brought stories of street protests and confrontations with the police. The stories were full of excitement and personality, but they didn't become the shared story of the class until someone started to sing: “My mother was a soldier!” Others joined the song: “Had her hand on the freedom plow.” By then, everyone was singing: “Said after fifty years, I can’t fight anymore, but I’ll keep fighting anyhow.”

When they got to the chorus “we are soldiers, hmm, in the army,” the song moved into a march, and the morning’s diverse deliberations and storytelling found a deeper truth. A sense of of urgency was evident as the teenagers shared from their grandparents, and it did indeed feel as if it had been incorporated “in the warp and woof of immediacy,” in the vibrant telling of a people’s story.