“I GOT A NEW NAME” A Sermon for Black History Month

by the Rev. Melanie Morel-Ensminger
Sunday, February, 28, 2010
First Unitarian Universalist Church of New Orleans

In our Opening Words this morning, Dr. C. Eric Lincoln of Union Theological Seminary declares that we have been dishonest with ourselves and with our children. We have not been told the truth about American history and culture, we have not endeavored to discover it for ourselves, and we have not imparted it to our youth. The result of all these lies and half-truths quite naturally has been disaffection, confusion, and despair, especially for many of our young people.

The declaration of February as national Black History Month is but a tiny baby-step in the right direction towards understanding and wholeness in our country. As Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon asserts, black history is really American history; in learning about the achievements and accomplishments of African Americans, we know more about ourselves and about our country as a whole. In exploring black history and culture, we also come to revere the enormous reserves of strength and courage of ordinary human beings in extraordinarily cruel and dangerous situations, and to admire the wondrous ability of human beings to create long-lasting beauty out of unutterable sadness and tremendous adversity.

What has been called “black music” runs through history, ranging from the sounds of Africa, to slave field hollers and spirituals, to blues and ragtime, traditional jazz, big band jazz, be-bop, urban gospel, disco and motown, jazz-pop fusion, all the way to the hip-hop, crunk, bounce, and house music of today. As you think about it, you begin to realize, as Dr. Reagon asserts in a series NPR did on black music several years ago entitled, “Wade in the Water,” that virtually ALL the American popular music you hear every day has its beginnings in the African American spiritual. Since American pop music touches the whole world, perhaps we could subtitle this sermon “A Partial History of World Music.”

We take as our theme this morning African American sacred music, known variously as slave songs, sorrow songs, or spirituals. It is especially good for us as religious liberals to come not only to appreciate the history of this vibrant music, but to learn to enjoy it, participate in it, feel it from the inside, since for years Unitarian Universalists in general have been derided as “God’s frozen people.” Well, we may be folks who rightly value reason and rationality, but that does not have to mean that we lack emotional vitality, or “heart” – or in the black vernacular, “soul.” Honoring the mind does not have to mean devaluing the emotions and the body, or vice versa. Human beings are made of all three; all three are equally important, and each needs the tempering of the other two in order for our perceptions and experiences to be fully integrated.

The very name “spiritual” is somewhat misleading, because, as Lawrence Levine points out, for the African slaves who developed this music, there was no boundary between spirituality and life. The separation that we are used to – between the sacred and the secular, the spiritual and the ordinary – does not exist in African culture and was ignored by the slaves. Although the songs themselves are based in Judeo-Christian scripture passages and stories, they were not thought of as being inappropriate for work and play and social life as well as worship. (It's as if we UUs would routinely get together and sing "Spirit of Life" at parties.)

In a way that was misunderstood not only by the white masters of slave times, but also by the misinformed of today, spirituals are also deeply political and practical. (In our terms, this is comparable to finding a Triple A map or suggestions on how to vote in a hymnal!) Spirituals sing of the hope for freedom – but they also tell you how to get there. Listen closely, and you will hear what the songs really say:

“Follow the Drinking Gourd,” used as our prelude this morning, tells the slaves to watch for the Big Dipper and the North Star in the night sky to help find their way North and guide them to freedom. It even advises those escaping to follow the river bank and look for another river beyond this one.

“Wade in the Water” advises the escaping slaves to stay in the rivers, creeks, streams, and bayous, along the way north, because the bloodhounds would then not be able to follow their scent. The “man dressed in white” who’s said to be “the leader of the Israelites” is the driver on the Underground Railroad the slaves should look for; the "woman dressed in red" likely refers to Harriet Tubman, who was nicknamed "the black Moses." [Congregation sings “Wade in the Water.”]

There are also songs that honor, in code, the very idea of escape and outwitting the master and the hated patterollers. “Run, Mary, Run – You Got a Right to the Tree of Life” is a song of celebration for the ones who got away, the slaves who exercised their “right to the tree of life.” The song “I Got Shoes” warns the white folks: “Everybody talkin’ ‘bout Heaven ain’t goin’ there.” “I Got a New Name” is about the new free life that the escaped slaves will enjoy in “Zion,” or Up North, rejecting their hated slave names and forming new families without white interference. [Congregation sings “I Got a New Name.”]

And “Go Down, Moses” – unbelievably, often sung openly in front of plantation white folks – was hardly coded at all, but instead a clear call for freedom, with its repeated refrain of “Let my people go.” How the white master could hear these words and think they only referred to some long-dead Egyptian Pharoah is hard to understand. [Congregation sings “Go Down, Moses.”]

Spirituals were passed on orally, since few slaves could write and even fewer still could notate music. So, many spirituals involve the African call-and-response tradition, ideally suited to the needs of the pre-Civil War days when teaching a slave to read was illegal. It remained for the sons and daughters of the freed slaves to formally write down and arrange these songs, many times adapting them to a more mainstream, European concert-style. We owe a debt of gratitude to the Fisk Jubilee Singers of Nashville and the other black musical pioneers of the early 1900s for handing down to us this great American legacy, this powerful testimony to the human spirit.

Another aspect of spirituals is that they exemplify one of the crucial differences between European and African cultures. In the African and African American traditions, there is little division between the artist/performer and the audience; therefore, spirituals are quite participatory in nature. To see the difference more clearly, picture a European American piece of so-called classical music being performed in a church. And now visualize the European American congregation singing along, clapping to the beat, and punctuating the rhythmic climaxes with ecstatic shouts. (OK, so you can’t picture it – I can’t either!) Becoming more multicultural as a church and as a denomination means having to be aware of and sensitive to such cultural distinctions – and it might mean dealing with a little discomfort as the culture of our congregations change.

Now, I am not saying that I expect this congregation to suddenly begin clapping (on the 2 and the 4, of course!) and hollering to hymns -- but, then again, maybe I am! But we could surely put more of ourselves, more heart and soul, into all of our Unitarian Universalist worship without losing our minds or our rationality.

Yes, it’s true – Unitarian Universalists have been called “God’s frozen people” and it’s also been said that UUs can’t sing because we’re too busy reading the words to see if we agree with them. It does seem to be true that many UUs don’t seem to like singing – maybe they think singing “with spirit” means losing their intellect, or maybe they think if they enjoyed singing in church it might make them “religious” or something. Or maybe they’re concerned with a high performance-expectation. Yes, folks may say these things about us – some of us may even say it about ourselves – but that doesn’t mean we have to prove it true. We have the power to change if we want to, if we choose to.

Indeed, we already HAVE changed. Pick up a copy of the old “red” Unitarian hymnbook published in the early 1940s and you will find a large amount of traditional scripture, a lot of sexist language, and not one African American spiritual. The “blue” hymnbook, published in the ‘60s, has a few Bible verses, lots and lots of humanist hymns and readings – but still has the exclusive language, and only a handful of spirituals. Our latest hymnbook, dated 1993, the “gray” hymnal, restores more of the scriptural stuff, retains a lot of the humanist, cleans up the sexist, exclusionary language, and adds neo-pagan selections for the first time. There are also 22 African American spirituals -- which I know because I've counted them, since inexplicably, they are not listed in the index..

I think one of the things I’m proudest of about our liberal religious faith has been our ability to change. Looking back over the course of UU history, one can see, time and again, our movement’s dynamic shifting in response to changing times and information. From our Christian beginnings, our religious ancestors in the 16th century read the newly-available translations of the Bible, and decided for themselves that the one God is Love and that whatever befell part of creation happened to all – the historic bases of Unitarianism and Universalism. Those liberal foundations evolved in the late 19th century to an acceptance of the wisdom in all the world’s religions. Taking that step away from Christian triumphalism led us in the 20th century to acknowledge humanism as a valid religious position. Now in the 21st century, we can be sure that we’re in for more change. The one thing that’s absolutely sure about Unitarian Universalism, is that we’re going to continue heeding that “spirit that bloweth where it listeth.” Or, as my more humanist friends might say, UUism keeps going wherever new facts and new experiences bring us. Either way, it amounts to the same thing. As a movement, we don’t stand still, we keep moving. As a church, we should do the same. So might this be! AMEN – ASHE – SHALOM – SALAAM – NAMASTE – BLESSED BE.