Go tell it on the mountain - James Baldwin [108]
‘It’s a long way,’ John said slowly, ‘ain’t it? It’s a hard way. It’s uphill all the way.’
‘You remember Jesus,’ Elisha said. ‘You keep your mind on Jesus. He went that way—up the steep side of the mountain—and He was carrying the cross, and didn’t nobody help Him. He went that way for us. He carried that cross for us.’
‘But He was the Son of God,’ said John, ‘and He knew it.’
‘He knew it,’ said Elisha, ‘because He was willing to pay the price. Don’t you know it, Johnny? Ain’t you willing to pay the price?’
‘That song they sing,’ said John, finally, ‘if it costs my life—is that the price?’
‘Yes.’ said Elisha, ‘that’s the price.’
Then John was silent, wanting to put the question another way. And the silence was cracked, suddenly, by an ambulance siren, and a crying bell. And they both look up as the ambulance raced past them on the avenue on which no creature moved, save for the saints of God behind them.
‘But that’s the Devil’s price, too,’ said Elisha, as silence came again. ‘The Devil, he don’t ask for nothing less than your life. And he take it, too, and it’s lost for ever. For ever, Johnny. You in darkness while you living and you in darkness when you dead. Ain’t nothing but the love of God can make the darkness light.’
‘Yes,’ said John, ‘I remember. I remember.’
‘Yes,’ said Elisha, ‘but you got to remember when the evil day comes, when the flood rises, boy, and looks like your soul is going under. You got to remember when the devil’s doing all he can to make you forget.’
‘The Devil,’ he said, frowning and staring, ‘the Devil. How many faces is the Devil got?’
‘He got as many faces,’ Elisha said,’ as you going to see between now and the time you lay your burden down. And he got a lot more than that, but ain’t nobody seen them all.’
‘Except Jesus,’ John said then. ‘Only Jesus.’
‘Yes,’ said Elisha, with a grave, sweet smile, ‘that’s the Man you got to call on. That’s the Man who knows.’
They were approaching his house—his father’s house. In a moment he must leave Elisha, step out from under his protecting arm, and walk alone into the house—alone with his mother and his father. And he was afraid. He wanted to stop and turn to Elisha, and tell him … something for which he found no words.
‘Elisha——’ he began, and looked into Elisha’s face. Then: ‘You pray for me? Please pray for me?’
‘I been praying, little brother,’ Elisha said, ‘and I sure ain’t going to stop praying now.’
‘For me,’ persisted John, his tears falling, ‘for me.’
‘You know right well,’ said Elisa, looking at him, ‘I ain’t going to stop praying for the brother what the Lord done give me.’
Then they reached the house, and paused, looking at each other, waiting. John saw that the sun was beginning to stir, somewhere in the sky; the silence of the dawn would soon give way to the trumpets of the morning. Elisha took his arm from John’s shoulder and stood beside him, looking backward. And John looked back, seeing the saints approach.
‘Service is going to be mighty late this morning,’ Elisha said, and suddenly grinned and yawned.
And John laughed. ‘But you be there,’ he asked, ‘won’t you? This morning?’
‘Yes, little brother,’ Elisha laughed, ‘I’m going to be there. I see I’m going to have to do some running to keep up with you.’
And they watched the saints. Now they all stood on the corner, where his Aunt Florence had stopped to say good-bye. All the women talked together, while his father stood a little apart. His aunt and his mother kissed each other, as he had seen them do a hundred times, and then his aunt turned to look for them, and waved.
They waved back, and she started slowly across the street, moving, he thought with wonder, like an old woman.
‘Well, she ain’t going to be out to service this morning, I tell you that,’ said Elisha, and yawned again.
‘And look like you going to be half asleep,’ John said
‘Now don’t you mess with me this morning,’ Elisha said, ‘because you ain’t got so holy I can’t turn you over my knee. I’s your big brother in the Lord—you just