As I have looked at hymns over the past year (or more!), there are a few common themes that come up time and time again.  One of these is hope.  That we look for it; that we provide it; that we need it.  Our tastes in music and our views on life and spirituality may have changed over time, but there are some things that remain shared in our human experience.  This is one of them.

Thinking about these African American Spirituals is complicated.  I have a sense that we need to respect where they came from even as we welcome them into our lives and sing them to reflect our perspectives.  This one is no different.  It was written by Wallace Willis, a Choctaw Freedman, towards the end of the 19thcentury.  A Choctaw Freedman was an Indigenous person of colour – granted freedom from slavery and citizenship in the Choctaw Nation in 1885.  It is a complicated history involving the horrific practice of slavery because some of these people were first slaves to European colonists, and later to Native American tribes who held them as captives after battles. It is difficult, from my privileged position, to fully grasp all of this.  It is hard to reconcile these practices.  Hard to understand the myriad layers of devastation arising from our Colonial past.

The song’s words were reportedly written when Willis was hard at work with a view of the Red River in Oklahoma.  Bringing to his mind the biblical story of crossing the river Jordan to something better.  Working.  Slaving. And, dreaming of freedom beyond the bonds that kept him where he was.

Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home

I looked over Jordan, and what did I see?
(Coming for to carry me home)
A band of angels coming after me
(Coming for to carry me home)

If you get there before I do
(Coming for to carry me home)
Tell all of my friends, that I’m coming there too
(Coming for to carry me home)

Whenever I consider one of these spirituals, I am astounded at the strength of those souls that wrote them.  If I look back on my own life, it would be difficult to find much of inspiration that came to my mind in moments of apparent hopelessness. In fact, at my lowest points, I don’t think I have been able to see the bands of angels coming to carry me anywhere – blinded by my own preoccupations.  I suspect I am not alone.  When we are in the midst of a struggle, it can be difficult to see beyond the mess and the pain.

But as we breathe the fresh air of Spring, we know we have been carried.  Through the winter’s cold.  Through the summer’s heat.  We don’t see the band of angels in the moment, but it is there.  Be it made up of our family, friends, therapists, pets – or our experiences, our creativity, our drive to accomplish something.  Maybe it is the tiniest flicker of a flame within that sees the smallest bit of beauty and says, that is enough.  Maybe it is our rawness that opens our eyes and shows us another’s pain, and in that moment allows us to spread our own angel wings and offer shelter and companionship.

What is hope?  Is it something we need to see?  Or, do those who have walked this earth before us, some in horrific situations beyond our comprehension, teach us that it is simply something that exists. Independent of our ability to see it or even believe it is there.  We have all, at times, looked for hope and found none.  But within the multitude of talents that others possess, there are ways across rivers that seem unnavigable.

So, as we wander along rivers both calm and turbulent, know that the band of angels walks beside us.  Sometimes we are part of that band, sometimes we are not.  Sometimes we feel these special souls, sometimes we don’t. But when we are carried to the other side, we meet them.  We greet them with gratitude and we join in, for a time, as part of this strength. Sharing what we know, what we’ve seen, where we’ve been.

Thank you, Mr. Willis.  Your vision inspires.  Your strength resonates through the ages.  Your pain is lamented.  Your story is remembered.  Your chariot flew to us and taught us about hope.