I’ve lost track of how many days we’ve been living in this strange state; how many weeks, maybe months are a better measure.  Time moves fast, and yet feels so slow.  It is still hard to comprehend, and yet there are ways in which we are getting used to things as they are.  A strange surreal dream.  One we’re all having together.  In the middle of all of that, I have been reminded very clearly this week, that there are many, many who are facing both enormous and minor challenges, small or scary disturbances that have nothing to do with this pandemic.  Dealing with things that must be dealt with, in spite of this pandemic.  It sometimes feels as if we’ve forgotten this, but these struggles are also real.

For some reason, it made me think of this song.  Surely everyone knows this one.  We all sang it at camp or school or in some gathering of some sort, somewhere along the way.  It has been written about many times, sung by many singers, treasured for its ability to engender warmth and maligned for its naïveté.  It has a fairly long history, some of which has been disputed, some of which involves being co-opted for all kinds of uses, political and otherwise, but most agree it comes from the Gullah Geechee people in the Southern United States.  People who were, and are, descendants of enslaved West Africans.  These people were deeply rooted in music, and this familiar word, kumbaya, is said to mean ‘come by here’.  I suppose, it is a lament or a call for what is needed.

Kumbaya my Lord, kumbaya
Kumbaya my Lord, kumbaya
Kumbaya my Lord, kumbaya
Oh Lord, kumbaya

Someone’s singing Lord, kumbaya
Someone’s singing Lord, kumbaya
Someone’s singing Lord, kumbaya
Oh Lord, kumbaya

Someone’s crying Lord, kumbaya
Someone’s crying Lord, kumbaya
Someone’s crying Lord, kumbaya
Oh Lord, kumbaya

Someone’s praying Lord, kumbaya
Someone’s praying Lord, kumbaya
Someone’s praying Lord, kumbaya
Oh Lord, kumbaya

When we find ourselves in need, where do we turn?  Some have difficulty asking for anything, I know I would fall into that camp.  When we look around and see the world in the state is in today, how much more difficult is this call for help.  We feel we are imposing.  We want to be independent, we want to be strong. We care about burdening others.  There are lots of reasons to face things on our own.  But there are better reasons to reach out, to ask for help, to share the load.

We are fragile.  But we are also immensely strong.  It’s a bit like the way time is moving fast and slow all at once.  We are simply too complex to be one or the other.  This means we need each other.  We need to give, we need to receive.  It is a beautiful symbiotic thing that we have with the rest of humanity.  With our friends, with our families.  We carry, we rest.  We are carried, we renew.  Our fragility connects us and invites others to both come to where we are, and show us how to find them.

When I sing these words, and it is difficult not to when I hear the tune, this interaction is so clear, so present.  Someone’s singing.  I hear you and then you draw me to where you are.  You hear and then find me.  Someone’s crying.  I see your tears and wipe them away.  You see my pain and enclose me in your care.  Someone’s praying.  I listen and understand your needs.  You listen and look for ways to fill mine.  These are remarkably simple words filled with incredible power.  I don’t think they are naïve at all, but wise beyond what I had really considered.  Come by here.  Meet me where I am.

We are all on different journeys.  Some have an overdose of pain right now, more to deal with than should be allowed.  I am incredibly inspired by those who are able to face their fragility with strength that seems to carry all those around them.  Strength that invites us all to participate, and encourage, and just be better.  No denial of the hardship or inability to acknowledge the fragility, but the wisdom to do what’s required to rebuild, grow and heal with the hope and knowledge that something better is coming.

This is kumbaya.  And when we see these special people, we come to their sides and we sing, we cry and we pray.  Oh Lord, kumbaya.