“My great great grandmother, Amanda, was Presbyterian, but we were given the freedom to search our own conscience. Some family members became Methodist some Lutherans. Many of my cousins became Baptist mainly through marriages.”
I felt a need to introduce a little history at that point, and said, “You remember the circuit riders? In the era in which my great great grandmother lived these riders was Baptist, Presbyterians, or Methodist. Most times the religion of the slave owner was the religion practiced by the slaves on plantations, at least when the slave owners were present. The slave owners of my ancestors were Presbyterians.”
“This is very interesting,” my instructor admitted with anticipation.
I continued. “My grandmother introduced me to many not-so mainstream religions such as Holiness, and Evangelism. When I finished high school, I choose the path of my father and became a Catholic. In my youth there weren’t too many black Catholics.”
My instructor asked, “So who influenced you to become a Catholic instead of a Presbyterian, Methodist, or Baptist.”
“It was a personal choice. When I moved to Chicago, I went to a Catholic college where I took a class in Christology. It was there it dawned on me that Jesus was really a Jew. I began to explore Jesus’ faith in depth. I visited a conservative Jewish Synagogue, but the people weren’t welcoming or friendly. Then one day during a soul-searching walk along Hyde Park’s beach, I come upon a Temple that had open doors. I set up an appointment to speak with the Rabbi. The congregants welcomed me warmly, and I felt a connection with them. I’ve been associated with them for 30 years now.”
“So what does this have to do with your grandmother being Cherokee?”
“My great great grandmother’s heritage was Native American. Many of the customs and practices of my grandmother were very similar to the practices of Judaism. First, there is the belief in one God. Second, there was a sacred ceremony where the celebration involved the beliefs that the Great Spirit walked on earth, and who’s name was mentioned on this holy day. The joining-together, or covenant, made between two Natives depicted our relationship with God while a heavenly host of special songs were sung. It is at this time of renewing the body and the mind with the Great Sprit is deliberated. In Judaism, this would be similar to the High Holy Days. Tales also speak of a house that the people assembled and dissembled as they travelled. This house contained holy items for their ceremonies. My grandmother kept a menorah in her kitchen. At Christmas time, candles were burning in the window next to a Christmas tree. When she died, one of the times I took was a broach with the Star of David embossed.
The Cherokee is a matriarch society. My grandmother was the matriarch. If my great great grandmother had been a black woman with no Cherokee influence, my life would have been more towards the African practices. This is not to say that we didn’t practice Christianity in the vein of the black church. It only speaks of the embed beliefs that guided us as a religious people. Also, Africans brought their religion with them from the old country, and was practiced in secret. It’s was a melting pot of religious beliefs.”
After walking for an hour, we stretched and thanked each other for the knowledgeable conversation. For me I learned a new route to walk. For my instructor it was a question of religion. The day had started out doubtful, spiked with uncertainty. Yet the hope for a beautiful day prevailed. As I headed for my car, I noticed the building that outlined the Chicago skyline, and in the water was a seagull perched on a piece of wood. As I drove home, it became a day I confirmed for myself why I am a Jew. But, mostly it was good day because not only did I give, I also received.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
All I Wanted to Do was Sing
My husband told me not to take it personal, but I couldn’t help but feel violated in some way. All I wanted to do was sing, but that wasn’t going to be that easy. Let me give you a snapshot of what happened to me a couple of days ago.
I had found a Senior Center that offered a choir program I could participate in once a week. It was going to be fun because the choir wasn’t professional, so I could relax and just sing. The day I started with the G-Notes group was a little darning. I wasn’t for sure how the group would receive me since I was the only person of color present.
“What do you sing,” the pianist/leader asked me.
“Mezzo-soprano with some high notes,” I said.
The women in the Altos section welcomed me to sit with them. By the second meeting, I had earned the respect of the sopranos and joined that section. Lucy was the diva of the three women that sat on the back row.
Most of the women were nice, but hesitated to be acquainted. I remember asking Marion, one of the back row sopranos, a question. Her response was, “Just do what you’re told,” in a commanding voice. I didn’t take her remark personally, and by the end of the year, I felt the back row and the lesser sopranos in front had come to accept me.
In my second year with the choir, the first order of business was to reorganize the choir into sections. I was supposed to sit between Lucy and Marion, moving the third soprano to the front.
After the assignment of seats, I came into the room the following week to find Lucy’s sunglasses and a small purse in my chair. To avoid a conflict, I moved Marion’s book into my chair and took Marion’s seat. All I wanted to do was sing, nothing more then that.
At our first concert, some of the lesser sopranos remarked, “Some of us are singing too loud!” I asked the tenor, who sat next to me, if it was me. Eric said no, that the choir needed strong voices. So, I continued to sing in my same voice at rehearsals and thought no more of it.
At our second gig, after our performance during the social hour, Lucy and one of the lesser sopranos commented again, “We were too loud.”
Marion noted that this was good because most seniors can’t hear. Since then, a number of incidents took place, which pointed to the fact that they were talking about me!
Finally, during a rehearsal a number of coincident occurred. Last week, I came into the room and found no seat for me. This week, as we began to rehearse songs, one of the lesser sopranos informed the choir that Lucy was doing a lovely job of singing the upper notes, but was drown out. The four lesser sopranos in front of the back row all agreed. Now I had to figure out what I was going to do.
After being "isolated" from conversations, and enduring eye rolling episodes, I decided to do nothing and hope the new director would give structure to the choir. Until then I would sing softly but carry a big stick against a problem that looked and felt like discrimination. As I said, all I wanted to do was sing. I have to take it personal.
I had found a Senior Center that offered a choir program I could participate in once a week. It was going to be fun because the choir wasn’t professional, so I could relax and just sing. The day I started with the G-Notes group was a little darning. I wasn’t for sure how the group would receive me since I was the only person of color present.
“What do you sing,” the pianist/leader asked me.
“Mezzo-soprano with some high notes,” I said.
The women in the Altos section welcomed me to sit with them. By the second meeting, I had earned the respect of the sopranos and joined that section. Lucy was the diva of the three women that sat on the back row.
Most of the women were nice, but hesitated to be acquainted. I remember asking Marion, one of the back row sopranos, a question. Her response was, “Just do what you’re told,” in a commanding voice. I didn’t take her remark personally, and by the end of the year, I felt the back row and the lesser sopranos in front had come to accept me.
In my second year with the choir, the first order of business was to reorganize the choir into sections. I was supposed to sit between Lucy and Marion, moving the third soprano to the front.
After the assignment of seats, I came into the room the following week to find Lucy’s sunglasses and a small purse in my chair. To avoid a conflict, I moved Marion’s book into my chair and took Marion’s seat. All I wanted to do was sing, nothing more then that.
At our first concert, some of the lesser sopranos remarked, “Some of us are singing too loud!” I asked the tenor, who sat next to me, if it was me. Eric said no, that the choir needed strong voices. So, I continued to sing in my same voice at rehearsals and thought no more of it.
At our second gig, after our performance during the social hour, Lucy and one of the lesser sopranos commented again, “We were too loud.”
Marion noted that this was good because most seniors can’t hear. Since then, a number of incidents took place, which pointed to the fact that they were talking about me!
Finally, during a rehearsal a number of coincident occurred. Last week, I came into the room and found no seat for me. This week, as we began to rehearse songs, one of the lesser sopranos informed the choir that Lucy was doing a lovely job of singing the upper notes, but was drown out. The four lesser sopranos in front of the back row all agreed. Now I had to figure out what I was going to do.
After being "isolated" from conversations, and enduring eye rolling episodes, I decided to do nothing and hope the new director would give structure to the choir. Until then I would sing softly but carry a big stick against a problem that looked and felt like discrimination. As I said, all I wanted to do was sing. I have to take it personal.
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