Tremble, Tremble, Tremble

The church I belong to is more traditionally Christian than any church I’ve joined (I’m excluding the Catholic churches of my childhood, which I didn’t join). As such, the choir sang on Good Friday and today. One of the Good Friday songs was: "Were you there when they crucified my Lord?" I’ve always loved that song, as I do many so-called Negro spirituals. When you think about it, what would better represent the suffering of the Jews--the canon that was written by slaves in America or the classical pieces commissioned by wealthy churches in Europe?

The downside of singing a song that you find truly moving is that you can choke, which I did, of course, but only in one verse. That song puts the suffering of Jesus front and centre: Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they nailed him to the cross?
Were you there when they pierced him in the side?
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.

I think the reason the song is so powerful today is we remain bystanders watching suffering all around us. The migration across Europe of millions of miserable Syrians, Iraqis, Afghanis, Somalians, and Iranians provides fresh opportunities for us to tremble--impotent in the face of such deep suffering. Were you there? Yes. What did you do? Tremble. If I didn’t have a contingent visa, I’d like to think I’d take a cheap flight to Greece or somewhere where I could relieve volunteers who have had to do so much for so long with so little. Better than trembling.
3/27