While Juneteenth commemorates the events of June 19, 1845, in which the Union troops declared freedom for the enslaved people in Texas, its spirit of joyful liberty is far older. The newly freed African American communities celebrated by evoking the Old Testament idea of jubilee, which emancipated slaves and canceled debts every 50 years in ancient Israel. The Book of Leviticus refers to this divinely-commanded manumission as “the trumpet blast of freedom.”
Growing up in North Carolina, I knew about Abraham Lincoln and the Emancipation Proclamation as well as Martin Luther King Jr. and the Civil Rights victories. But I don’t recall ever hearing about Juneteenth, much less attending a celebration. My children will not say the same.
Last weekend, my family was out of town for the Juneteenth festivities on Saturday in Chatham, but we attended the gathering in Carrboro on Sunday. As was true in previous years during the Juneteenth celebrations in Chatham, there were marching bands with plenty of trumpet blasts and lots of dancing. My kids also grooved on funnel cakes and sodas, had their faces painted, and picked out colorful handmade bracelets from vendors. These are tangible things that I gladly purchased for them.
The intangibles were priceless: the friendly smiles and warm greetings, the youth and elderly engaging one another, the joy that was as thick in the air as brass music. Seemingly everywhere I turned, there were peals of laughter.
At one point, I purchased two waffle cones, one for myself and the other for my daughter. She, however, was too excited to wait for me to pay and scampered off to ogle the beautiful merchandise from the vendors. As I searched for her among the crowd, the ice cream began to melt, running rivulets down each cone. What was I going to do except lick each one?
I passed a tent where recruiters passed out information about serving as mentors to elementary school students. A woman sitting there caught me swiping tastes from both cones. She beamed at me. “Double-fisting! I love it.” It crossed my mind to explain my situation, but instead I threw back my head and laughed with her.
Jubilee is meant to be shared. It is like a trumpet blast of freedom, or an ice cream cone for each hand, or, most precious of all, a new friend.
Andrew Taylor-Troutman is pastor of Chapel in the Pines Presbyterian Church as well as a writer, pizza maker, coffee drinker and student of joy.
