"Over my head, I hear trouble in the air
Over my head, I hear trouble in the air.
Over my head, I hear trouble in the air,
There must be a God somewhere"
Modern Mystic Howard Thurman called Negro Spirituals the ultimate expression of faith. Enslaved people who were daily beaten by the angry fist of oppression and racism nevertheless viewed their plight as proof of God's existence. My enslaved ancestors--Mary, Harriett, William--often used their plaintive songs in a more subversive manner: to signal freedom and to communicate messages about escape. Hope was carried on the wings of these songs.
Fifty years after the historic March on Washington, one hundred and fifty years after the Emancipation Proclamation, we see enormous progress. We also see and hear trouble: wars in the Middle East; Congressional gridlock, random acts of violence and cruelty in every community in this country.
We recall the horrendous loss of life of September 11, 2001, a day that forever altered our view of the world, of our security and our innocence. "There must be a God somewhere" sing my enslaved ancestors. Mary, Harriett and William believed.
I, too, must choose to believe that this is so.
Fifty years after the historic March on Washington, one hundred and fifty years after the Emancipation Proclamation, we see enormous progress. We also see and hear trouble: wars in the Middle East; Congressional gridlock, random acts of violence and cruelty in every community in this country.
We recall the horrendous loss of life of September 11, 2001, a day that forever altered our view of the world, of our security and our innocence. "There must be a God somewhere" sing my enslaved ancestors. Mary, Harriett and William believed.
I, too, must choose to believe that this is so.
