THE CHARLESTON RAG
Composed by African-American James Hubert "Eubie"
Blake in 1899 at the age of 12, "The Charleston Rag" is
an iconic piece of joyful ragtime music. (To listen to the
music and watch a variety of dance variations on it, go
to this YouTube video.) Born in Baltimore, Maryland to
parents who were former slaves, it would not be until
1916 that Blake learned musical notation. After the
release of its recording in 1917, its syncopated rhythms
inspired a dance based on the tune and bearing its name.
The song and its namesake dance swept the nation. In some ways, The Charleston Rag inaugurated an era that was, among other things, filled with joyful and energic public dances. It was the era of The Roaring Twenties, a.k.a. The Flapper Era.
Today, however, there's another Charleston rag. Unlike Blake's music this rag inspires neither dancing or joy. To the contrary: it inspires . . . and historically stands for . . . the subjugation of human beings as "sub-human animals", as slaves. It was then, and is now, a symbol of that subjugation and of the determination of its supporters to take up arms against this nation in defense of that subjugation.
(As an aside, in case you are unclear about whether the meaning of the Confederacy is as negative as stated above, historian James W. Loewen, Emeritus Professor of Sociology at the University of Vermont, writes in the July 2, 2015 issue of The Washington Post about why people believe myths about the Confederacy. He suggests, with copious documentation and examples, that it is because our textbooks and monuments are wrong. It was, he demonstrates, to defend the institution of slavery, and not states rights, that southern states seceded from the Union.)
You know, I think, the Charleston rag of which I write. But in case you've just gotten back from vacationing on Mars, here is a picture of this Charleston rag.
Already a growing movement is afoot to remove this Charleston rag from state flags (Mississippi) and flagpoles in a number of southern states, including South Carolina. Even its governor, Nikki Haley, has found her courage and called for it to be removed from the Statehouse grounds. So has state senator Paul Thurmond, son of former U.S. Senator Strom Thurmond, a vehement supporter of segregation. On June 23, the younger Thurmond addressed his fellow senators and talked about the future he envisioned for South Carolina, saying, "That future cannot be built on symbols of war, hate, and divisiveness."
He called for the flag to come down.
If you'd like an enjoyable . . . even hilarious . . . way to participate in removing this Charleston rag, there is a "browser game" that will let you do so. All you have to do is click on this link , turn on your computer's speakers and, when given the chance to do so, click on the box that says "Share Selected Device" (your computer's microphone). Then you (and any number of your assembled family and friends yell "BOO! BOO! BOO!" until . . . well, until this Charleston rag descends its pole, incinerates. . . and more. Go ahead and try it now. Then come back.
Surely the Spirit of the Lord is at work in all of this, even as it was when families of the nine slain victims at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church offered forgiveness to the perpetrator of the crime. That was an unfathomably graceful dance . . . so simple in form, but so difficult to master.
And, yes, President Obama was correct in saying that, unbeknownst to the alleged perpetrator, God will be able to work through even him and his deed to bring about some further healing that, perhaps, needed such a terrible catalyst.
But, as Bob Dylan asked in his song, Blowin In The Wind, "how many deaths will it take 'til they know that too many people have died?" Twenty first graders and their teachers wasn't enough. The execution of Jesus wasn't enough . . . although it did present a new vision, not only of God, but of each other. What is needed is eyes to see, so that we might act upon that vision. Perhaps the execution of the Charleston Nine will finally get our attention. Perhaps that will help effect the change of hearts so long delayed, but which is, at its root, where the problems of racism and violence take their nourishment.
Adlai Stevenson, lamenting the slow pace of social change, once said, "Man is a strange animal. He generally cannot read the handwriting on the wall until his back is up against it." What will it take until our backs are up against the wall of the, often unconscious, prejudice which lies within the hearts of most of us . . . and if it is not directed against African Americans, then some other racial, ethnic, or other minority. It is a deeply human, ubiquitous problem that each new generation must confront anew. (See James Russell Lowell's hymn below.)
But . . . in the current and salutary movement to take it down, the removal of the Charleston rag won't eliminate the racism for which it once stood, and for which, too often, it still stands today. Fifty years ago, the Civil Rights Act was written into law to deal with institutional expressions of racism. They are good and necessary for, as Martin Luther King, Jr. observed, "It may be true that the law cannot change the heart, but it can restrain the heartless."
Similarly, finally passing some sort of sane gun laws would be helpful. (And, yes, there are those that will pass muster even with the current Supreme Court.) This website has plenty of resources about getting involved with that effort. But let's not delude ourselves: even if such laws had already existed, the tragedy in Charleston would not have been prevented thereby. But those laws would be a step in the right direction. At the very least, they would reduce the 33,000+ gun deaths that will occur this year . . . eclipsing for the first time the number of annual automobile deaths.
"The heartless," said King. That is why we still have Charleston . . . and black churches in North Carolina and Georgia being torched by arsonists in the very same week. Indeed, laws do not address matters of the heart, as St. Paul and the prophet Jeremiah long before him once observed.
But if not laws, what then?
Stories. There are over seven billion human stories. We need to begin listening to them. We can begin to heal when we tell the stories to one another of how we came by our prejudices . . . how we were "carefully taught" * . . . and what it is like to be on the receiving end of of those attitudes.
But story-telling is a dance. Not only must they be told: they must also be listened to with an attempt at understanding. When we join in that dance, we begin to realize that we are all one. Underneath all the external markings to the contrary, there is no "other." Just folks like us, whose stories are comprised of the same sort of triumphs, failures, hurts, and celebrations that we all will mention when we tell our own "once upon a times."
One group, The William Winter Institute of Racial Reconciliation at the University of Mississippi is attempting to facilitate interracial storytelling like that. They have developed a process whereby people of both races can sit down at a table, build relational trust, and tell each other their stories. It's a model that has attracted national and international attention and praise.
It's a model that churches might consider exploring for their own use.
* * * * * * *
When it comes to both guns and racism, an inspection and cleansing of the heart is in order. That work is slow. It will require many generations. It is a struggle that, to quote from James Russell Lowell's poem, "goes by forever."
Speaking of poetry, below you will some of the work of two poets: Bob Dylan and James Russell Lowell. Dylan's "Blowin' In The Wind" and "The Times They Are A-Changin," are two of his best known. Read them with Charleston in mind!
James Russell Lowell's verse is a hymn familiar to many. Again, don't let its familiarity breed the usual contempt. Read it with Charleston in mind!
Then, having read them, perhaps meditatively, let us ask ourselves if we're "keeping abreast of truth," and whether we're doing what we can . . . with ourselves first . . . to confront those dark habits of the heart that would label some people "other."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once wrote, "Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad." Susan Glisson, Executive Director of the William Winter Institute of Racial Reconciliation paraphrases Longfellow: "My enemy is someone whose stories I don't know." **
You've had a chance here to reflect on stories surrounding The Charleston Rag and the Charleston rag. Isn't it about time that we sat down and listened to the stories of those "others" we sometimes avoid out of fear?
That would give Charleston and the rest of us something to truly dance about!
Blowin' In The Wind
by Bob Dylan, 1962
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannonballs fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind
How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind
The Times They Are A-Changin'
by Bob Dylan, 1964
Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'
Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who that it's namin'
For the loser now will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'
Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside and it is ragin'
It'll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'
Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin'
Please get out of the new one if you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'
The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin'
And the first one now will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'
To Us All, To Every Nation***
~ James Russell Lowell, 1845
To us all, to every nation comes a moment to decide,
In the strife of truth with falsehood, for the good or evil side;
Some great cause, some great decision, offering each the bloom or blight,
And the choice goes by forever, 'twixt that darkness and that light.
Then to side with truth is noble, when we share her wretched crust,
Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 'tis prosperous to be just;
Then it is the brave one chooses while the coward stands aside,
Till the multitude make virtue of the faith they had denied.
By the light of burning martyrs, Jesus' bleeding feet we track,
Toiling up new Calv'ries ever with the cross that turns not back;
New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth,
They must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of truth.
Though the cause of evil prosper, yet the truth alone is strong;
Though her portion be the scaffold, and upon the throne be wrong;
Yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim unknown,
There stands God within the shadow, keeping watch beside God's own.
_________________________
* From the 1949 musical South Pacific, by Rogers and Hammerstein. It is well worth listening again to this now old wisdom. Here are the lyrics.
You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.
You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,
You've got to be carefully taught.
You've got to be taught before it's too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You've got to be carefully taught!
** I am indebted to Kathleen Parker's op-ed column in The Washington Post of June 28, 2015 for learning about the William White Institute of Racial Reconciliation and for Susan Glisson's quote.
*** More commonly known as "Once To Every Man And Nation," this version is largely from The United Methodist Hymnal. Some alterations have been made, including the title, by incorporating without change wording from Voices United: the Hymn and Worship Book of the United Church of Canada. An ardent abolitionist, Lowell's original poem, "The Present Crisis," was written to protest the Mexican-American War, but its verses (often and appropriately heavily edited by hymnal editors) have found great relevance to America's ongoing struggle with racism, war, and other momentous causes that convulse the body politic.
