“Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”
A Sermon by Rev. Michael Scott
The Dublin Community Church
April 26, 2015
2 Kings 2:1-12
This is one of those “best laid plans” mornings. Back in February, I had discovered the
happy coincidence that the reading from the Hebrew scriptures for the morning of Jazz Sunday
was this account of the prophet Elijah taken up to heaven in a fiery whirlwind and a chariot.
Knowing that this passage was the inspiration for the great old spiritual “Swing Low, Sweet
Chariot”, one that we love to sing when Scott Mullet and his jazz band are here to jam with us, I
thought: How perfect is this?” Well, Jazz Sunday got snowed out in February. So, not to be
done in by a few feet of snow, we rescheduled it to today. It’s not Mardi Gras time, but we’re
happy to welcome these guys any day.
I said that the Elijah passage was the inspiration for the song, but there clearly was
another influence. The song grew not only out of the fiery whirlwind of ancient Hebrew legend,
but out of the fiery crucible of inhumanity that was American slavery in the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries. This was one of the many slave songs that Africans in bondage sang to
express their faith, their aspirations, and their courage. At the very least, “Swing Low, Sweet
Chariot” was a reflection of the faith held by many slaves that their bondage would one day be
over as God’s chariot and band of angels arrived to take them home to heaven. But many people
believe that it means much more than that.
The song was written by an African American slave named Wallis Willis apparently
sometime prior to 1860. Willis was what is referred to as a Choctaw freedman. These were
African slaves who, after the emancipation sealed by the Civil War were released into the
custody of the Choctaw Indians. But prior to that, Willis was owned by a Mississippi man, Britt
Willis (who gave Wallis his English name). Wallis and his wife, Minerva were sent by Britt
Willis to work as slaves at Spencer Academy for Choctaw boys in southeastern Oklahoma
sometime before the Civil War. Uncle Wallace and Aunt Minerva, as they came to be known,
sang a number of songs apparently written by Willis. When Rev. Alexander Reid heard them
singing, he loved the songs and had his chorus, the Jubilee Singers, perform them as they went
on tour. The rest, as they say, is history.
But there is another twist to all this. Many people believe that this song, and a number of
other slave songs, were actually a kind of coded language in which slaves spoke of their desire
for freedom and even came up with some lyrics that referred to the Underground Railroad, that
collection of people and means that helped slaves escape from their owners and find new lives in
the North. It is said that when Willis wrote “I looked over Jordan”, meaning the Jordan River,
he had been inspired by the Red River which flows just south of where he was staying in
Oklahoma. But many believe that other slaves sang about “looking over Jordan” as a way of
speaking about other rivers, such as the Mississippi, the Missouri, and the Ohio, watching to see
“a band of angels” (which is to say, freedom workers on the Underground Railroad) coming after
them to take them “home” to freedom. It’s also said that many slaves substituted for “sweet
chariot” the words, “Swing Low, Sweet Harriet”, referring to Harriet Tubman, leader of the
Underground Railroad. How much of this is true is subject to much debate. But there can be
little doubt that many of these slave songs were a source of comfort and hope for those who sang
them, and their hope was not only in the “sweet by and by,” but the hope of a new life and
freedom.
Escaping slavery was not new in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, however.
Slaves were fleeing their bondage for as long as there numbers had been on American soil, even
back to the sixteenth century. But the Underground Railroad was a new innovation. The term
came into use after the first trains started running in the U.S. With the abolitionist movement of
the 1830's, spurred by people like William Lloyd Garrison who published “The Liberator” and
founded the American Anti-Slavery Society, the Underground Railroad moved into high gear. It
wasn’t really just a train; it was a collection of people who helped slaves escape by various
means – wagons, boats, trains, running through the woods, wading rivers, and however else they
could manage. Tens of thousands of slaves found freedom with the help of these dedicated
liberators.
But, just as there may have been hidden messages in the slave songs, there was also a
hidden message in the Underground Railroad and the persistence of Africans in bondage to find
their freedom by whatever means. The act of fleeing itself was a statement. It declared in the
face of those slaveholders and their supporters that these black men and women were not the
simple-minded, docile sub-humans they were thought to be; they were strong-willed, resourceful,
freedom-loving people. In fact, a good deal of the assistance runaways received on the
Underground Railroad was not from Northern Whites, but from fellow slaves and freed slaves
who came to assist. And the numbers of runaways raised the level of debate. It infuriated the
slavers and rallied the abolitionists. It led to enactment of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, one of
the major sparks that lit the fire of the Civil War.
As has been the case in counter-cultural movements down through the generations,
churches were often at the forefront of this great effort. Both predominantly Caucasian and
African American churches throughout the country raised money, initiated protests, and fed and
housed runaway slaves. Standing in that noble tradition, we might choose to believe that this
song is, indeed, a kind of anthem for the Underground Railroad. At least I do. But maybe
that’s also why the song found new life in the 1960s during the Civil Rights Movement. When
folks were intoxicated with thoughts of peace, love, and freedom – and perhaps some other
substances, there was something about being “sometimes up” and “sometimes down”,
anticipating “getting there” and “friends” coming too, that just resonated with the times. The
song was famously sung by Joan Baez at Woodstock. And even Oklahoma has come a long
way. With the history of Wallis Willis, an African Slave in their state having contributed to the
protest against human bondage, the Oklahoma State Senate passed a bill about four years ago
making “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” the official Oklahoma State gospel song (I didn’t know
states had official gospel songs. I don’t think New Hampshire has one).
Well, what’s all this got to do with Elijah? Here’s my take: the whole story about a
chariot swooping down to take the prophet up into the sky, is really a story about Elijah passing
the mantel of his role as prophet on to his protégé Elisha. In fact, before he is taken up to
heaven, he literally lays his mantel on Elisha at the Jordan River. Elijah was a prophet in the
great ancient Hebrew tradition. His role was to speak truth to power, and he carried it out with
courage and conviction. He spoke up against the king for his abuse of power and his pursuit of
idols. The mantel of prophecy was handed to Elisha when the chariot came for his mentor.
That mantel is handed down from generation to generation, from age to age. It was handed to
African captives, chained and taken to a foreign land to be pressed into brutal servitude. And by
their protests, by their flight, by their courage, and by their singing, they ultimately spoke truth to
power, and the walls of slavery came tumbling down.
Who is speaking up against abuses of power and idolatry today? My message this morning is
that this mantel of prophecy has been handed down to us. When the accumulation of money
becomes such an idol that a gulf keeps widening between the few fabulously wealthy and the
many who increasingly struggle, when political leadership devolves into a game in which money
is the only objective and the only voice that is heard, it is the responsibility of those who stand
in the place of Elisha to lift a voice. When our culture and its leaders succumb to the idolatry of
placing power and advantage above all else and forget that what matters supremely is freedom
and justice for all of God’s children, it is our sacred role to speak up in whatever way we can.
When we ourselves become enslaved to the need for security, monetary advantage, and
dominance over others, we are called to remember that we stand in a long line of prophetic
voices, from Elijah to Wallis Willis, and can sing with that great chorus of faithful souls the plea
that God’s own chariot would come and take us home to freedom and to justice.*
*
Information for this sermon taken from various sources, including: "New Jersey's Underground Railroad Heritage, A Guide to the
Underground Railroad in New Jersey", The New Jersey Historical Commission. And USA Today "Story behind spiritual ‘Sweet Chariot'
emerges" August 14, 2006.
Pastoral Prayer
O God, artist behind the music of the spheres, we come to you this day with a song in our
heart. We offer a song of gratitude for the many rich blessings of life. Help us, we pray, to
never pass through our days distracted and unaware, but to be ever listening for your song of
grace. And, as we know our own capacity to give, to share, and to offer hope and help is tied to
our ability to appreciate all that we ourselves receive, teach us to nurture grateful hearts and
generous spirits.
We offer a song of joy. The life you give us is so rich and full of good things that our
hearts must sing. Help us, we pray, to avoid being so caught up in our hurts and
disappointments that we fail to experience the wonder of a sunlit day, acknowledge the goodness
of a dear friend, or savor the thrill of a new learning in life.
We offer a song of dedication. Fill us, we pray, with an earnest desire to live for larger
purposes, to give ourselves to the greater good, to be always reaching out a hand of grace to those
around us. As we move through our days, may we not miss the rhythm of your good news
sounding through the streets and echoing in the hallways of our lives. May we be inspired to
constantly rededicate ourselves to your work and will.
We lift up these petitions in the name of the one who taught disciples to pray:
“Our father, who art in heaven . . .”