From the recording Singles

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Where Was That Little White Church?

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So many bluegrass songs look back fondly on the old country church. "The Church in the Wildwood," "Little Mountain Church House," and "The Little White Church in the Dell," remind me of my little rural congregation. After the 2015 murders at Mother Emanuel Church, I wondered about our little mountain churches. Why couldn't we protect our soul siblings in Charleston? What can we do for our faith family now? And does our nostalgia blur the dark corners of our memory? How did our church respond to every bombing, every act of vandalism, and every law or habit that encouraged racism or restricted justice? 

After the first verse ponders these things, the second one remembers the bloody Sunday morning, September 15, 1963, when the Klan bombed Sixteenth St. Baptist in Birmingham, killing Addie Mae Collins, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robinson, and Carol Denise McNair. How did our little country churches respond then?

The Sunday after the Charleston shooting, a thousand miles away, my little country church seemed to take no notice. The youth were just returning from an exciting week of serving all around the county, and the service was given to them telling their stories. I guess nobody wanted to bring the mood down. Fair enough, but I wish I'd had the wits to organize some sort of response to assure Mother Emanuel that we're family.

But that Sunday, many congregations left their little white churches and joined Mother Emanuel on the Ravenel Bridge. They called their gathering a unity chain on a bridge to peace, and they pledged their commitment to each other.

That's Ramona Shenk on lead vocal, with Mike Shenk and Dave Nealon on backups. Together, we're Tide Spring, and this is on our album This New Plow.

Lyrics

©Dave Nealon 2015
 
In the valley of my memory along a country road
Stands a little white church in a shady locust grove
Oh the happy times we gathered there I often recollect
And the sorrow that we shared when we paid our last respects
 
But there are some occasions I scarce can recall
Rumors that some other church had burned
When vandals painted symbols on the synagogue wall
Sunday school lessons we never had learned
 
Tell me where was that little white church
When the legacy of slavery waved like flags in the wind?
We were slow to be bold or our love had grown cold
But we won’t let it happen again   
 
On the fifteenth of September back in 1963
On the corner of 6th Avenue and 16th Street
Getting ready for the service putting on their choir robes
The explosion rocked the city and the cars out on the road
 
With twenty people injured and the four girls gone
How can souls so shattered carry on?
A brightly colored portrait on the window that remained
Jesus and the children above the blood stains
 
Tell me where was that little white church
When our passive lack of action snapped like flags in the wind?
We were slow to be bold or our love had grown cold
But we won’t let it happen again   
 
Stretching out to close the gap high above the Cooper River
Black and white the crowds are gathered to commit to work together
On the bridge to peace we join to form a chain of unity
Let the word go forth from here and let all citizens agree
 
Tell me where was that little white church
When the heritage of privilege whipped like flags in the wind?
We were slow to be bold or our love had grown cold
But we won’t let it happen again
We live in to what we’ve learned, and our heart fires burn
And we won’t let it happen again