I sang Kumbayah for the first time sitting around a campfire at Pond Homestead Baptist Camp in Wrentham, MA. It was memorable because the quietness of the night was filled by our young acapella voices.
Recently, some politicians have flippantly used Kumbayah to make a political point suggesting someone other than the speaker is too conciliatory or eager to compromise. The often-sarcastic comment is: “Why don’t we just hold hands and sing Kumbayah!” Others chuckle seemingly knowing what is being said.
For me, Kumbayah is not a throwaway phrase to minimize or discredit an idea. The first recording of the song was in 1926. Before that, Black slaves in southern states and areas like South Carolina, Georgia and the Bahamas sang Kumbayah to pray to God for freedom from enslavement. Historians believe the song was first in the Gullah creole language and originating from western Africa.
During the Civil Rights Movement, marchers sang Kumbayah as a freedom song. My 1963 “We Shall Overcome! Songs of the Southern Freedom Movement” songbook, published by The Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee included Kumbayah.
During the Vietnam anti-war movement, protesters sang Kumbayah as a peace song. My 1964 “Joan Baez Songbook” included Kumbayah.
Today’s politicians may appropriate Kumbayah but for me, Kumbayah is a prayer.
Kumbayah, my Lord, kumbayah.
Kumbayah, my Lord, kumbayah.
Kumbayah, my Lord, kumbayah.
Oh, Lord, kumbayah.
Someone’s crying, Lord, kumbayah.
George Floyd was crying for his mother.
Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders are crying to be safe.
Children at the border are crying for home.
Someone’s praying, Lord, kumbayah.
Families are praying for justice for their lost loved ones.
People of faith are lamenting for reconciliation.
We can pray for the courage to boldly speak.
Someone’s singing, Lord, kumbayah.
We sing when justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. (Amos 5:24)
We sing when we beat swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks and we will not learn about war anymore. (Micah 4:3)
We sing when we proclaim release of the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, and let the oppressed go free. (Luke 4:18)
Come by here, my Lord, come by here.
Come by here, my Lord, come by here.
Come by here, my Lord, come by here.
Oh Lord, come by here.
In the name of our Lord and God, nothing is too idealistic, too unreachable, too unfathomable, too conciliatory, too unbelievable. When we hold hands and sing Kumbayah, the Lord will come to make all things possible on earth as it is already in heaven. At Pentecost (Acts 2), when everyone understood each other, God’s Spirit was poured out for sons and daughters to prophesy, young people will see visions, and older people will dream dreams of a more loving and just world.
Kumbayah is no joking matter. It’s God’s kin’dom in the world.