A Slave Narrative by Rev. A. L. Torrence, Pastor of Cross of Life Lutheran Church
"She said to her mistress, ’Would that my master, Namaan, were with the prophet who is in Samaria. he would cure him of his leprosy’..."
(Please note that this sermon was an effort to celebrate the rich African American heritage during Black History Month)
After the civil war within our country, many historians took the time to document the words of those born into slavery. HBO in conjunction with various African American actors and directors have brought these testimonies and narratives to the media during this month commemorating our African/Caribbean Heritage. These are just a few excerpts from their various collections simply entitled: “Slave Narratives”. And I must forewarn you that these are direct quotations without editing. Please bear in mind that the labeling used was during a dark time in our society before our need for political correctness and sensibilities. Therefore, please forgive the use of the ‘n’ word.
· Charity Anderson (borne at belle’s landing in Monroe County) "My old Marster was a good man, he treated all his slaves kind, and took care of dem, he wanted to leave dem hisn chillun. It sho’ was hard for us older uns to keep de little cullered chillun out ob de dinin’ room whar ol marster ate, cause when dey would slip in and stan’ by his cheer, when he finished eatin’ he would fix a plate and gib dem and dey would set on de hearth and eat. But honey chile, all white folks warn ’t good to dere slaves, cause I’se seen pore niggers almos’ tore up by dogs, and whipped unmercifully, when dey did’nt do lack de white folks say . But thank God I had good white folks, dey sho’ did trus’ me to, I had charge of all de keys in the house and I waited on de Missy and de chillun.
· Henry Watson b. 1813: He says, “There was a slave on the farm by the name of Jo. The overseer had threatened to put him in the stocks, for some trivial offence. Jo, dreading the severity of the punishment, ran away, which fact was soon brought to my master’s knowledge, who ordered the overseer to shoot him the first time he saw him. The overseer, being a bloodthirsty fiend, like my master, kept strict watch for Jo; and the second night, he saw him but a short distance from his cabin, where he was probably going for the purpose of seeing his wife, and getting something to eat; but he never saw those eyes light up with pleasure,--never heard the sweet music of their voices, or felt their warm embrace,--for the incarnate fiend’s aim was too sure; he was stretched dead in an instant. Yes; this man was hurried into the presence of his Maker, without the power of speaking one word of prayer. On the master being informed that his brutal order had been obeyed, he gave orders that his body should not be removed from the spot where he fell, as he wished it to serve as an example to the rest of us; and there it remained, the vultures rioting and feasting on the remains of a man, whose only fault was a black skin.”
· Mary Reynolds: "Slavery was the worst days was ever seed in the world. They was things past tellin’, but I got the scars on my old body to show to this day. I seed worse than what happened to me. I seed them put the men and women in the stock with they hands screwed down through holes in the board and they feets tied together and they naked behinds to the world. "We was scart of Solomon and his whip, though, and he didn’t like frolickin’. He didn’t like for us niggers to pray, either. We never heared of no church, but us have prayin’ in the cabins. We’d set on the floor and pray with our heads down low and sing low, but if Solomon heared he’d come and beat on the wall with the stock of his whip. He’d say, I’ll come in there and tear the hide off you backs.’ But some the old niggers tell us we got to pray to Gawd that he don’t think different of the blacks and the whites. I know that Solomon is burnin’ in hell today, and it pleasures me to know it. "Once my maw and paw taken me and Katherine after night to slip to nother place to a prayin’ and singin’. A nigger man with white beard told us a day am comin’ when niggers only be slaves of Gawd. We prays for the end of Trib’lation and the end of beatin’s and for shoes that fit our feet. We prayed that us niggers could have all we wanted to eat and special for fresh meat. Some the old ones say we have to bear all, cause that all we can do. Some say they was glad to the time they’s dead, cause they’d rather rot in the ground than have the beatin’s. What I hated most was when they’d beat me and I didn’t know what they beat me for, and I hated they strippin’ me naked as the day I was born. "When we’s comin’ back from that prayin’, I thunk I heared the nigger dogs and somebody on horseback. I say, Maw, its them nigger hounds and they’ll eat us up.’ You could hear them old hounds and sluts abayin’. Maw listens and say, Sho nough, them dogs am running’ and Gawd help us!’ Then she and paw talk and they take us to a fence corner and stands us up gainst the rails and say don’t move and if anyone comes near, don’t breathe loud. They went to the woods, so the hounds chase them and not git us. Me and Katherine stand there, holdin’ hands, shakin’ so we can hardly stand. We hears the hounds come nearer, but we don’t move. They goes after paw and maw, but they circles round to the cabins and gits in. Maw say its the power of Gawd.
· Linda Brent (1861 ): When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was much surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the character of men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were after he was a communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day after he had been confirmed, certainly gave me no indication that he had "renounced the devil and all his works. " In answer to some of his usual talk, I reminded him that he had just joined the church. "Yes, Linda," said he. "It was proper for me to do so. I am getting in years, and my position in society requires it, and it puts an end to all the damned slang. You would do well to join the church, too, Linda." There are sinners enough in it already," rejoined I. "If I could be allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad." "You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be as virtuous as my wife," he replied. I answered that the Bible didn’t say so. His voice became hoarse with rage. "How dare you preach to me about your infernal Bible!" he exclaimed. "What right have you, who are my Negro, to talk to me about what you would like and what you wouldn’t like? I am your master, and you shall obey me." No wonder the slaves sing, Ole Satan’s church is here below;
Up to God’s free church I hope to go. “
A slave narrative can tell you much of the personal struggles, prayers, and hopes of some one subjected to a life of abuse and violation. A slave’s narrative can give a testimony, and a statement of faith in the face of dark and frighten times. In our text is another brief slave narrative. A little slave girl in the land of Syria she waited on Namaan’s wife and said to her mistress, “Would that my master, Namaan, were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.”
Her presence in our story is proof that God can take little and accomplish much. This little maid impacted the lives a mighty warrior, two warring nations, and a renowned prophet. Though many viewed this young girl as small, weak, insignificant, and powerless, her quiet strength demonstrated the greatness and omnipotence of God. Her story illuminates some of the basic pillars of what it means to be a follower, an effective disciple, a servant- a slave of Christ. What do we see and learn from her story? What words of wisdom still echo to a generation living in times of pending warfare and declining social welfare? What does she share in common with Henry Watson, Mary Reynolds, Linda Brent, and our own great, great, great, grandparents?
We learn that they all had a sustaining faith. Our story tells us that there was a time when Israel was a war with Syria and during one of their many battles this young girl was taken captive and compelled to work the life of a servant to her captors. She was forced to become a slave yet she remembered and held on to her faith. She was taken from her homeland but God remained in her heart. This girl was able to sing her songs of Zion in a new and strange land. Her sustaining faith was like so many Africans who were snatched from the ivory coasts of Africa and brought the strange lands of the Americas. Many of those who came through the middle passages came with the belief of one God. Christianity was not a foreign theology to our ancestors. Many scholars forget that that while much of Europe was worshipping the druids, Greek/roman pagan gods, and practicing witchcraft, Africans had an organized religion of worshipping One God. The tribes of Mali called him Mangala – the creator God while the Ancient Egyptians called him ‘Aton’ and “Amon-Ra” - the Lord of the Sun, the Kings of gods. Many forget that North Africa was cradle of great schools of Christian theology in Carthage and Alexandria: schools that gave birth to the minds of Origen, Clement, Anthansius, and Augustine. Many try to forget that African ancestors brought with them a faith in a High God who was a liberator as well as a sustainer. Their captivity did not give them a religion. Their religion got them through their captivity. Like the little servant girl in our text, they too learned to sing the Lord’s song in the strange land of captivity. They had a sustaining faith.
That’s what we need more of today. We need a faith that will get us through tough and turbulent times. We need a faith that holds us rock steady while the world around us is “topsie- turbie”. Cornel West notes in his book entitled Race Matters that these generations lack the spiritual buffers that served as armor for our ancestors against the nihilistic threat of the lost of hope and the absence of meaning. He observes that although today’s generation of Blacks have more economically, politically, and socially – they lack core beliefs that would sustain them during hard times. Thus, in an era of less discrimination, segregation, and social –ism’s – we still have more suicides, black on black violence, and depression. It seems that now we are experiencing some of milk and honey of the promise land of equality and liberation, we have forgotten how to sing the lord’s song. Now that we, African Americans, are dwelling in the foreign lands of corporations, suburbia, and congress – we have forgotten how to praise God from whom all blessings flow. Now that we can work in the lands of Lucent Technologies, Verizon, ATT, Merrill Lynch, Wall Street and Fashion Avenue – Now that we can hang out in the lands of shopping malls, satellite dishes, golf courses, and country clubs, many descendents of African slaves have forgotten their lord. But to have a sustaining faith we must not forget our Lord. Never forget the Lord. Never forget that you are a child of the king. No matter where you are and what you are going through. In the boardroom or the classroom; in the midst of difficulties or during times of growing pains – take the lord with you. When we pack up our briefcases and backpacks –we must take our God with us for the journey. No matter where we go, we are to take our faith with us. It will sustain us. This Israelite girl had a sustaining faith. She had core beliefs that kept her sane when she thought she would lose her mind. She had a spiritual buffer to fall on during times of distress and disappointment. With her faith in God, she could handle demands her bondage. She could handle getting paid little or nothing for doing much. She could endure trying meet unreasonable deadlines and quotas. She could face being over-looked for promotions and bonuses. She had a sustaining faith that kept her during her captivity.
She had a compassionate faith. This ministry we have is one of compassion.
Yet her faith was also one of compassionate. She did not render Evil for Evil. Although she had much to be bitter about she did not allow it to hinder her opportunity to show mercy to others. She saw the needs of her oppressor. She saw the great mighty warrior Namaan for who he really was-a man who needed to know the salvation of God. She saw through his armor, through his victories, through his titles and recognition. She saw his weakness and felt compassion. Listen to her prayer: “Would that my master were with the prophet. He would cure him of his leprosy.” Her prayer was not for self but for someone else. She prayed not for her freedom but for her captor’s healing. She longs that Namaan would be healed of this terrible illness we now call Hanson’s disease. It was a condition that caused reddish open sores to appear on skin eventually turning the victim’s skin snow white. In its most extreme stages the person’s limbs would fall off. They would lose fingers, toes and skin just randomly falling off. And instead of this girl rejoicing at the eventual death of her oppressors she prayed, “Would that my master were with the prophet. He would cure him.”
Her prayer demonstrates a compassionate faith – one that challenges us to love our enemies, to bless them that hate us, and pray for them that despitefully use and abuse us. Forgiveness is a hard thing to do. But we need to understand that to be a follower of Christ entails us looking pass the faults of others and seeing their needs. To pray for our enemies is not to pray that they treat us better or do us justice but it’s to pray for that which they need. It’s to pray for their well being not their destruction. It’s to pray for their salvation not their condemnation. God loves them just as much as he loves us. He desires to see them at the Lord’s Table just as he wants us at the foot of the cross. He wants to see Haddam Hussein saved. He wants to see Bin Laden saved. He wants to the former executives of Enron and MCI-WorldCom saved. You see when we pray, we ask for God to avenge us: Lord, make them pray for the evil that they are doing to us. And the reason many of us are in certain places is to change that prayer to one of compassion. The reason many of us are struggling with a back stabbing co-workers or unjust bosses is to show them the love of Christ. The reason many of us are coping with enemies is not to change them but to change the spirit within us. Now, don’t get me wrong we are not to endure unnecessary abuse – verbal or physical. If we are in a situation like that then we are to get out, and pray from a distance. And our prayers then are to be for the person’s salvation, the individual’s recovery. We need to understand that God wants to use us as a vessel witnessing to others.
Her faith was contagious. This little girl was used as an instrument of change. Because her faith was sustaining and compassionate it was also contagious. Her faith was more contagious than Namaan’s leprosy. The reason that there are still leper colonies is that it is a very contagious and deadly disease. And this young slave was perhaps placed in a position where she had to clean and sanitize Namaan’s belongings. She had to scrub his soil sheets from his night sweats and body fluids. She had to wash his dirty dishes and items that he touched. That was her job. If she were back in Israel she would not have even been in that situation because, unlike Syria, Israel by law, forced its lepers to live outside the community – in exile. No one had dealings any with them – they were unclean. However, this slave girl would have faced daily exposure to a highly contagious disease. Yet, rather than her catching Namaan’s leprosy – he caught her faith. And we must face the reality that we are surrounded by some similar highly contagious diseases that threaten the welfare of our families and being. I’m not talking of AIDS, and STD’s. However, we are exposed to social diseases every day. Our children are exposed to schoolyard violence and crime. They see drugs sold daily on school property. They witness gun-carrying dealers daily in their classroom. We are exposed to the media’s promotional of sex daily influencing casual sex among our teens, and promoting extra-marital affairs. We are still exposed to hate crimes, racial profiling, sexual harassment, glass ceilings and political corruption. And the solution is making our faith more contagious than those diseases. I believe that one of the reasons this girl shared her faith was the fact she was tired of seeing this man gradually die in front of eyes. There has to be a point when we get tire of seeing others die spiritual and physical in front of our eyes. There has to come a point that we get tire of seeing our young men go to prison. There must be a point when we get tire of seeing our daughters and granddaughters get pregnant before their time. There has to be a point when we get tire of seeing our love one drink themselves into liver disease. There has to be a point when we too get tire of seeing those around us slowly die. There has to come a point when we get tire of seeing people come and then leaving because we never may them feel welcome. There has to be a point when we get tire of serving on all the committees because no one else will do anything. There has to come a point when we get tire of sitting up in a large empty church wondering when the lord going to make a change. Well, I am here today to declare that the change begins with you. It begins with your testimony. It begins with your story. It begins with your narrative. As history pens your life’s story, what will you say? As time interviews you for generations to come, what will be your story? As a servant, no, as a slave of Jesus Christ, what will be your narrative? Amen.
