I first met composer Earnestine Rodgers Robinson back in 2008, not long after a short documentary about her life, called Sounds of a Miracle, had debuted at film festivals across the country. I was editing a fun (and short-lived) print magazine called Skirt! in Memphis at the time, and part of my work was to profile interesting women.
Earnestine certainly qualifies, though fitting her life story into the few paragraphs I had available in Skirt! was a challenge. Her story is nearly unbelievable, until you meet and talk to her yourself.
“I was 34 when I wrote my first composition,” said Earnestine, who was born in Memphis in 1938 and graduated from Douglass High School; she studied mathematics and philosophy in college, not music. In 1972, the married mother of five had been asked to lead the Easter play at her church, and instead of spoken scripture, “I just heard songs.” So she began writing down what she heard, using mathematical notations.
Eventually, she formed her work into an oratorio — think Handel’s Messiah. Earnestine’s oratorio, called The Crucifixion, was selected by the Library of Congress for its special collections. Then in 1997, after a long and difficult journey and with production help from her son, The Crucifixion was performed at Carnegie Hall.
Yes. Carnegie Hall. By invitation. The woman who’d grown up in the Jim Crow South and had no formal musical training saw any musician’s dream realized.
“I worked on The Crucifixion over many years — I didn’t know I was writing an oratorio,” she said. “I hear songs and they develop. One night I was going to the grocery store and I heard a tenor voice singing, ‘I shall be betrayed ….’ I write what I feel, and I’m never rushed.”
Two more oratorios with religious themes followed — The Nativity and The Ten Commandments. Her work was performed, again, at Carnegie Hall, and she was invited to watch her work performed in Prague as well.
Then, in 2019, Earnestine saw the award-winning movie Harriet, about the brave and daring abolitionist and activist Harriet Tubman, and she was inspired once again.
“At the end of the movie, I stood up and said, ‘I’d like to write an oratorio about her.’ I was so impressed with her courage, her faith, her love for her fellowman,” said Earnestine. “After I said that, I immediately thought, ‘Why in the world did I say that? I don’t know how to go about writing this.’”
Earnestine began to read about Harriet Tubman, and to pray for help and guidance.
The result was another remarkable work, the Harriet Tubman Oratorio, which premiered earlier this month in Earnestine’s hometown of Memphis. It was a collaboration between the National Civil Rights Museum and the Memphis Symphony Orchestra and featured soloists, two narrators and more than 100 singers, including a middle school choir.
When I spoke to her a few days after the performance, Earnestine was still delighted with the production. “I have never seen a choir like that before,” she said. “It had all ages, all races, all colors. My son said it was the face of America … it was the face of Memphis.”
At 86, how does Earnestine, a woman of deep faith, think about aging?
“I don’t think about my age … my mindset is the same as when I was a younger person,” she said. “You keep busy doing things, constantly. I’m always thinking about what to do next, what I want to do, what I hope to do. You keep on going.”
She admits that as a younger person, she could never have imagined that she’d have accomplished so much, in such an improbable way — it’s hard to overstate how unusual it is for an untrained musician to compose and orchestrate a single oratorio, let alone four.
“I’m surprised myself,” she said. “Back then, I remember just hoping my church would perform my songs. But then I thought: If nobody does them, I’ll write them anyway.”
Her advice: Don’t stop.
“When you feel passionate about something, if it’s something you really believe in, do that thing. And keep doing it. Don’t give up because people aren’t listening. Sometimes I didn’t have anyone but the walls to listen to me.”
But, she said, “Then, it’ll catch on. Like a fire.”
“Just keep going.”