There is a balm in Gilead
Today I read the article below. I love the words, "There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul." Hearing them, thinking of them, I get this kind of warm, sort of lovingly-squeezed feeling of being hugged, and at the same time I get a lump in my throat, sometimes I tear up. "Balm in Gilead" deeply touches my heart and soul.
I thought the article was very interesting and I liked the painting the author chose. I am glad to learn more about the words and the Negro spiritual inspired by them. I appreciated the music in the video the author linked to, but it is not my favorite arrangement of the song. I am including a rendition I like better.
I like the observation that the writer of the spiritual "taps into Jeremiah’s poetic grief, extracting the 'balm in Gilead' expression but bending it toward hope." Bending toward hope. Yes.
Joseph Hirsch (American, 1910–1981),
Lynch Family, 1946. Oil on canvas, 35 × 33 in. (88.9 × 83.8 cm). Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri. [zoom in]
Balm in Gilead (Artful Devotion)
Posted on September 17, 2019 by Victoria Emily Jones
In this coming Sunday’s lectionary reading from the Prophets, Jeremiah grieves over the suffering of his people. “Is there no balm in Gilead?” he cries. Gilead was a region in ancient Palestine, east of the Jordan River. Now it is known primarily as the fictional locale of two famous contemporary novels, but back then it was known for the soothing, aromatic plant resins produced there, which were used medicinally. In Israel’s desolation, though, they could feel no balm—not even in the place where it was said to abound.
The anonymous writer(s) of the slave song featured above knew communal suffering well. He or she taps into Jeremiah’s poetic grief, extracting the “balm in Gilead” expression but bending it toward hope. There is a balm, the song attests, albeit wearily, through tears. And this balm makes the wounded whole. Archie Shepp’s soulful arrangement, with vocals by Jeanne Lee, express that woundedness and yearning for deliverance so poignantly.
As a visual point of focus, I’ve chosen Joseph Hirsch’s Lynch Family, a forward extension of the history of African American oppression. The gallery label for the painting reads,
Joseph Hirsch painted Lynch Family as a response to racial disturbances in the South in 1946. That year the number of lynchings rose from an all-time low in January to a fevered pitch by August. Citizens across the country urged President Truman and Congress to end the horrors. To capture the tragedy of Lynch Family, Hirsch presented a mother with her baby, presumably survivors of a lynching victim, in abstracted surroundings. The painting focuses on the mother’s intense yet restrained hold on her defiant child while she turns to hide her anguish. The blue background floats around the figures. It both highlights their pain and contrasts with the sheer beauty of Hirsch’s painterly technique.
Though painted in the 1940s, this work bears strong relevance for today. The figures could be any black mother and child left to grieve the loss of husband and father—to prison, or to death by shooting.
For another painting by Hirsch from the blog, see “Stations of the Cross at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.” This post belongs to the weekly series Artful Devotion. If you can’t view the music player in your email or RSS reader, try opening the post in your browser.
To view all the Revised Common Lectionary scripture readings for Proper 20, cycle C, click here.