The Journey: Forty Days of PromiseCelebrating the Legacy of African American Christianity
Day Twenty-Four: Slave Spirituals
Day Twenty-Four: Slave Spirituals[1]
The fascinating history of the slave spirituals are intertwined with the equally captivating narrative of the Invisible Institution. It was at these secret meetings in the brush arbors and tiny log cabins that the spirituals were not only sung, but composed in community.
Too often we see the spirituals simply as words and notes on a printed page. We forget that they emerged as communal songs which were heard, felt, sung, shouted, and often danced with handclapping, foot-stamping, head-shaking meaning.
The Fuel of the Invisible Institution
These songs—variously called slave spirituals, Negro spirituals, jubilees, folk songs, shout songs, sorrow songs, slave songs, slave melodies, minstrel songs, and religious songs—are most commonly known as slave spirituals because of the deep religious feelings they express. Singing was integral to reinforcing a sense of community in the Invisible Institution and nourishing soul-healing relationships with God and one another. The spirituals were the fuel of the invisible institution.
Gushing Up From the Heart: Improvisational Communal Empathy
To appreciate the meaning, message, and mutual ministry of the slave spirituals, it is essential that we understand how and why they were composed. Carey Davenport, a retired black Methodist minister from Texas, had been born enslaved in 1855. He vividly depicts the spontaneous nature of slave spirituals.
“Sometimes the culled folks go down in dugouts and hollows and hold they own service and they used to sing songs what come a-gushing up from the heart.”
These were not polished, practiced anthems designed to entertain. They were personal, powerful psalms designed to sustain. “Songs were not carefully composed and copyrighted as they are today; they were ‘raised’ by anyone who had a song in their hearts.”
Slave spirituals were shared songs composed on the spot to empathize with and encourage real people in real trouble. Anderson Edwards, a slave preacher, remembers,
“We didn’t have no song books and the Lord done give us our songs and when we sing them at night it jus’ whispering so nobody hear us.”
Soul Care-Giving at Its Best
The creation of individual slave spirituals poignantly portrays soul care-giving at its best. When James McKim asked a slave the origin of a particular spiritual, the slave explained,
“I’ll tell you; it’s dis way. My master call me up and ordered me a short peck of corn and a hundred lash. My friends see it and is sorry for me. When dey come to de praise meeting dat night dey sing about it. Some’s very good singers and know how; and dey work it in, work it in, you know; till dey get it right; and dat’s de way.” Spirituals were born from slaves observing and empathizing with the suffering of their fellow slaves as a way of demonstrating identification and solidarity with the wronged slave.
In the very structure of the spirituals, we see articulated the idea of communal support. Frequently the spirituals mentioned individual members present, either by name—“Sister Tilda, Brother Tony,”—or by description—“the stranger over there in the corner.” This co-creation included everyone in the experience of mutual exhortation and communal support.
Learning Together from Our Great Cloud of Witnesses
1. How would your soul care and spiritual direction ministry change if you shifted from a focus on practicing skills to a focus on “gushing up from the heart” (improvisational empathy, staying in the moment, being present, immediacy)?
2. What does it look like for you to lay aside self to be simultaneously present with your friend and with God, hearing God’s voice and reflecting God’s words, God’s Word?
[1]Excerpted from, modified from, and quoted from Kellemen and Edwards, Beyond the Suffering: Embracing the Legacy of African American Soul Care and Spiritual Direction. Purchase your copy at 40% off for only $10.00 at www.rpmministries.org.
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