Go tell it on the mountain: Christmas and the Black spirit

Ebony, Dec, 1989 by Paul Laurence Dunbar, Langston Hughes

Go Tell it on the Mountain Go tell it on the mountain, Over the hills and everywhere; Go tell it on the mountain, That Jesus Christ is born.

THE "Black and unknown bards" of slavery appropriated the event and transformed it.

For them and for millions of their descendants, Christmas was a time of joy and celebration expressed in a communal spirit of giving and relatedness. Since that time, the Black response to Christmas has gone through a number of transformations, including modern-day Kwanza celebrations. But whatever the form, the spirit has remained constant. There is a sense of identification with the mother and the child, born in a manager in a place where there was no room in the inn. There is also a challenge and a reinterpretation of the event in terms of the question, Can anything good come out of Nazareth or out of the Harlems or the South Sides of the world? Always, everywhere, as the poems and Spirituals on the following pages indicate, there is a bold and joyous affirmation based on the belief that the answer is implicit in the question and the event.

Born in a manger, Yes, Lord! Born in a manger, Yes, my Lord; The people keep-a comin', an' The train done gone.*

Carol of the Brown King

Of the three Wise Men Who came to the King, One was a brown man, So they sing.

Of the three Wise Men Who followed the Star, One was a brown king From afar.

They brought fine gifts Of spices and gold In jeweled boxes Of beauty untold.

Unto His humble Manger they came And bowed their heads In Jesus' name.

Three Wise Men, One dark like me-- Part of His Nativity.

What You Gonna

Name That

Pretty Little Baby?

Oh, Mary, what you gonna name That pretty little baby? Glory, glory, glory To the new born King! Some will call Him one thing, But I think I'll call Him Jesus. Glory, glory, glory To the new born King! Some will call Him one thing, But I think I'll say Emanuel. Glory, Glory, glory To the new born King!

Speakin' O' Christmas

Breezes blowin' middlin' brisk, Snow-flakes thro' the air a-whisk, Fallin' kind o' soft an' light, Not enough to make things white, But jest sorter siftin' down So's to cover up the brown Of the dark world's rugged ways 'N' make things look like holidays. Not smoothed over, but jest specked, Sorter strainin' fur effect, An' not quite a-gittin' through What it started in to do. Mercy sakes! it does seem queer Christmas day is 'most nigh here. Somehow it don't seem to me Christmas like it used to be,-- Christmas with its ice an' snow, Christmas of the long ago. You could feel its stir an' hum Weeks an' weeks before it come; Somethin' in the atmosphere Told you when the day was near, Didn't need no almanacs; That was one o' Nature's fac's. Every cottage decked out gay-- Cedar wreaths an' holly spray-- An' the stores, how they were drest, Tinsel tell you couldn't rest; Every winder fixed up pat, Candy canes, an' things like that, Noah's arks, an' guns, an' dolls, An' all kinds o' fol-de-rols. Then with frosty bells a-chime, Slidin' down the hills o' time, Right amidst the fun an' din Christmas come a-bustlin' in, Raised his cheery voice to call Out a welcome to us all; Hale and hearty, strong an' bluff, That was Christmas, sure enough. Snow knee-deep an' coastin' fine, Frozen mill-ponds all ashine, Seemin' jest to lay in wait, Beggin' you to come an' skate, An' you'd git your gal an' go Stumpin cheerily thro' the snow, Feelin' pleased an' skeert an' warm 'Cause she had a-holt yore arm. Why, when Christmas come in, we Spent the whole glad day in glee, Havin' fun an' Feastin' high An some courtin' on the sly. Bustin' in some neighbor's door An' then suddenly, before He could give his voice a lift, Yellin' at him, "Christmas gift." Now such things are never heard, "Merry Christmas" is the word. But it's only change o' name, An' means givin' jest the same. There's too many new-styled ways Now about the holidays. I'd jest like once more to see Christmas like it used to be!