Juneteenth by Ralph Ellison

better take your Easter bunny. With your Easter bunny you won’t be afraid, will you? Course not. And like I tell you, it will last no longer than it takes for the boys to march you down the aisle. I’ll have you some good, strong, big fellows, so you don’t have to worry about them dropping you. Now, Bliss: You’ll hear the music and they’ll set it down in front of the pulpit. Then more music and preaching. Then Deacon Wilhite will open the lid. Then I’ll say, Suffer the little children, and you sit up, see? I say, Do you see, Bliss?
    Yessuh.
    Say Sir!
    Sir .
    Good. Don’t talk like I talk; talk like I say talk. Words are your business, boy. Not just the Word. Words are everything. The key to the Rock, the answer to the Question.
    Yes, sir.
    Now, when you rise up, you come up slow—don’t go bolting up like no jack-in-the-box, understand? You don’t want to scair the living daylights out of anybody. You want to come up slow and easy. And be sure you don’t mess up your hair. I want the part to be still in it, neat. So don’t forget when we close you in—and don’t be chewing on no gum or sucking on no sourballs, you hear? Hear me now.…
    Yes, sir, I said. I couldn’t turn away my eyes. His voice rolled on as I wondered which of the two with the trumpets was Gabriel.…
     … It depends on the size of the church, Bliss. You listening to me?
    Yes, sir.
    Well, now when you hear me say, Suffer the little children , you sit up slow and, like I tell you, things are going to get quiet as the grave. That’s the way it’ll be.
    He stood silently for a moment, one hand on his chin, the other against his hip, one great leg pushed forward, bending at the knee. He wore striped pants.
    Bliss, I almost forgot something important: I better have the ladies get us some flowers. Roses would be good. Red ones. Ain’t nobody in this town got any lilies—least not anybody we know. I’m glad I thought of it in time.
    Now, Bliss. We’ll have it sitting near the pulpit so when you rise up you’ll be facing to the side and every living soul will see you. But I don’t want you to open your eyes right off. Yes, and you better have your Bible in your hands—and leave that rabbit down in there. You won’t forget that, will you?
    No, sir.
    Good. And what are you suppose to say when you rise up?
    I ask the Lord how come he has forsaken me.
    That’s right. That’s correct, Bliss. But say it with the true feeling, hear? And in good English. That’s right, Bliss; in Good Book English. I guess it’s ’bout time I started reading you some Shakespeare and Emerson. Yes, it’s about time. Who’s Emerson? He was a preacher too, Bliss. Just like you. He wrote a heap of stuff and he was what is called a philosopher . Main thing though is that he knew that every tub has to sit on its own bottom. Have you remembered the rest of the sermon I taught you?
    Yes, sir; but in the dark I …
    Never mind the dark—when you come to Why hast Thou forsaken me , on the me , I want you to open your eyes and let your head go back. And you want to spread out your arms wide—like this, see? Lemme see you try it.
    Like this?
    That’s right. That’s pretty good. Only you better look sad, too. You got to look like you feel it, Bliss. You want to feel like everybody has put you down. Then you start with, I am the resurrection and the life —say it after me:
    I am the resurrection …
    I am the resurrection …
     … and the life …
     … and the life …
    That’s good, but not too fast now. I am the lily of the valley.…
    I’m the lily of the valley.…
    Uh-huh, that’s pretty good—I am the bright and morning star.…
     … the bright and morning star.
    Thy rod …
    Thy rod and thy staff.
    Good, Bliss. I couldn’t trap you. That’s enough. You must remember that all of those I ’s have got to be in it. Don’t leave out any of those I ’s, Bliss; because it takes a heap of I ’s before they can see the true vision or even