When my ability to look inward and outward is darkened by sorrow, I turn to music—music in a minor key. Not the self-pitying kind, of which
Tchaikovsky was a master, but the kind that indicates a way to overcome it. The best minor-key
spirituals accomplish this: they provide emotional, intense expressions of
sorrow; since there is almost never any trace of egotism, they also lead the
listener toward the center of reality where suffering is transcended.
One of the best minor-key spirituals is the traditional “I
Told Jesus.” The words of the spiritual
vary; a basic version follows:
I told Jesus it would be all right if He changed my name,
Jesus said that I would go hungry, if He changed my name,
Jesus said the world would turn against, (or hate), me,
if He changed my name, etc.
The meaning here is not something simple such as, “If I
do the right thing, people are not going to like it”; it goes much deeper than
that. “Change my name” implies the complete
surrendering of one’s identity, so that one becomes, well, One. Individual comforts, individual greed,
individual hates, individual delusions, individual sorrows--and even individual
joys—all these must go. A thorough giving up of one’s hold on oneself
is, as far as the individual is concerned, death. Evolution, however, has provided all animals, including
humans, with a strong instinct to do all they can to avoid annihilation. That the protagonist of this spiritual is ready
to give up individuality is an indication of the almost unbearable suffering that
preceded this decision. Egotism must go; turning back is no longer possible. (Powerful dictators, for instance, not only want to keep
their names, but desire to see them writ large on signs and statues as well.)
Some branches of Hinduism teach that the result of giving up
is bliss. A well-know term for this is Sat Chit Ananda—Knowledge,
consciousness, bliss. Having Jesus change one’s name would result in bliss as
well—if the world were just. All sensible adults know that greed, hate, and delusion are very powerful forces
both within oneself and the world.
When the powerful are challenged to the point of feeling threatened, the
challenger will be viciously attacked, and, sometimes, even murdered.
In the Eastern tradition, Gautama Siddhartha gave up his individuality
and became the Buddha, after which he taught the dharma, the path, for many
years. In the West, Jesus gave up his
individuality, became the Christ--and was crucified shorty thereafter. Why? Siddhartha was subsumed into Nirvana and
became as moral as a mountain. This was
a sublime and majestic transformation; mountains, however, do not fight for the
little guy. Jesus could not become a
mountain if every valley weren’t raised as well—for him, the commandment to love
one’s neighbor as oneself always remained supreme.
Jesus taught that he who lives by the sword dies by the sword. Simone Weil’s addendum: But he who puts down
the sword dies on the cross. In the
real, that is, fallen world, the chances of David defeating Goliath are slim--especially when David puts down his slingshot.
Whoever wrote the lyrics to the spiritual was able to
express wisdom with very few words—a true mark of genius.
2. Three Recordings of the Spiritual
The first recording we shall briefly analyze is by Roberta Flack. Ms. Flack has a beautiful voice, but this recording doesn't work very well for me. It lacks the emotional depth that the words imply. Giving up one's personal identity entirely is similar to suicide--the difference being, a major difference indeed, is that one is giving oneself up in order to be subsumed into a reality far, far greater.The singer doesn't take the consequences of this action seriously. To use Christian mythology: there will be a Resurrection, but there will be a crucifixion as well. The crucifixion element, which is essential to a condign rendition of this spiritual, is almost entirely absent in this recording. It is a too smooth version of an intense song.
What a beautiful voice! Ms. Simone sings here with great musicianship and with great emotion as well. (The effective pianist must be a Schubert fan--the accompaniment sounds very similar in parts to that of Schubert's song, Der Tod und das Mädchen. Schubert, by the way, as everyone familiar with his music knows, was at his best when composing in the minor key.)
I love the way Ms. Simone extends notes to add to the emotional impact. Her phrasing is impeccable. This is a wonderful recording, no doubt about that.
A musically intense, dramatic illustration of what happens to you when you give up your identity for Jesus, is, however, missing in this recording. This is not Ms. Simone's fault; for this you would need an arrangement that gives justice to the consequences of always turning the other cheek. This aspect would be very difficult to express in a solo; you would need contrasting parts, you would need an ensemble.
This is the best recording of this spiritual I know. The two elements of the existentially fraught dialogue between the soul and the world are addressed in an appropriately intense fashion, namely, Soul: "I can bear it any longer. I give up. Jesus take over." World: "Just try to become truth to power; once challenged, power will use all things it controls--which are indeed a lot of things--to destroy you." The voices, albeit very good indeed, aren't of the same quality as Nina Simone's, but for me that even adds to the effectiveness of this performance; one gets the impression that we are hearing the voice of everyman or everywoman, in each case an individual who is at the point of going under, with the possibility of rising from the depths forever.
The pianist deserves special praise. How well he does what only music can: articulate what can't be put it into words, thus perfectly reflecting what is going inside the person who is about to be transformed. The greatest praise, however, is due to the Harlem Spiritual Ensemble, whose members composed the arrangement of this piece. How well these musicians have expressed the difficulties that lie in wait for the anyone giving up one's name! Notice how the piece becomes agitated when the music turns to the inevitable ostracism that is to follow. (How poignant is the use of the "blue" note, the augmented fifth, on one of the times the soprano sings "be," from the phrase, "be all right!" This blue note indicates to me that the singer is painfully aware of the coming consequences of her decision.)
The contrast between a momentous decision and the trouble that inevitably follows is repeated with increased intensity. By the end of this wonderful music, we know that the singer, despite everything, is not going to be deterred. At the very end, the singers, now fully realizing what lies in store, and feeling somewhat subdued by this realization, nevertheless assert an inexorable determination, as the music slows, to do what shall be done.
A harrowing performance!
3.
Sometimes spiritual music is convincing for only as long as it's heard. (In my case, I'm a true believer while listening to a Bach cantata; however, if I could travel back in time and attend a service at Bach's church in eighteenth-century Leipzig, Faithful Thomas would again become Doubting Thomas immediately, once the music stopped and the minister started talking.)
While listening to the Harlem Spiritual Ensemble recording, one may think that such a transformation is possible. But it isn't--few people are able to walk down the very narrow path indicated by this spiritual.
Absolute redemption that sometimes, albeit very rarely, follows suffering, reminds me of the first stanza of a poem I wrote long ago, "Homage to Mahalia Jackson":
At the very height of suffering,
most are destroyed; the wounded rest
survive to limp toward nothing
on paths short or long; lost
except for very, very few
who become immortal song.
Jesus is said to have been able to change his name from Jesus of Nazareth to Jesus Christ; Buddha is said to have been able to change his name from Gautama Siddhartha to the Buddha; Ramana Maharshi is said to have able to change his name from Venkataraman Iyer to Ramana Maharshi. Such transformations might indeed occur, but, as my poem indicates, they are very, very rare.
When a visitor told Ramana Maharshi that he couldn't decide whether to give everything up, that is, change his name, or to continue to live in the world. Would the sage kindly advise? Ramana smiled and informed him that if he were ready for such a transformation, it would occur naturally as a leaf falling from a tree.
Nearly all of us would be unable to endure such a transformation; there's something in me, for instance, which intends to keep on living in the world and is not ashamed of this decision. I am in no way advocating solipsism; living in the world does not in any way exclude working to make it better.
Music such as this is much more than beautiful; devotion to, and acting upon, living truth is an essential element as well. Many are able to respond to the spiritual we've discussed musically; yet if a careful listening thereof doesn't result in our becoming at least a little less self-centered and a little more loving, we might as well be listening to Muzak.
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