This last week we celebrated the 50th
anniversary of the March On Washington… the March For Jobs and Freedom”… as they called it back in 1963.
This last week I heard stories from
people that were there – personal stories – stories from people who hitch-hiked from the mid-west who drove
from places up north who walked
from the south who came from wherever they were… to be there… on the Mall in DC on that
hot august day, to hear Dr. King and others talk about the conditions of
freedom and justice in this country… from the perspective of those who did not
always enjoy the full benefits of that freedom and justice.
In August 1955, a young man – a boy
really – he’d just turned 14 the month prior – was spending the summer away
from his home in Chicago, visiting relatives in Money, Mississippi.
Emmet Till – a black boy, made the
mistake of whistling at a white woman – the wife of a storeowner there in
Money. He disappeared –he was kidnapped
– he was murdered on
August 28th, 1955.
Was it planned that way? Was it planned that 8 years later, Dr. King
and all the other speakers and singers would offer their words 8 years to the day of the murder of 14
year old Emmet? I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t
be surprised if it had been planned that way.
I wouldn’t be surprised if had planned to
take the anniversary of an act of violence, and hopefully turn it into an
anniversary to remember that the path of peace and unity is a path we all need to walk… to be made whole
again!
On that day, August 28th,
1963, many people spoke. And from
hearing the stories this past week of those that were there, I could almost
feel the air crackling with the energy produced by thousands upon thousands of
hearts and minds united in the belief that American was a great country… and that America could be even greater still.
As I heard stories this week from those
that walked, rode, sang and prayed their way to the Mall in DC for that days’
gathering… I could hear in their voices the memories of that day coming back to
life again… memories of a day pregnant with the hope and strength of a people
united under the belief of a better day that was just around the corner – like the
Apostle Paul talking about the return of Jesus. Paul believed we just have to hang on a
little longer… just a little bit… just hang on a little longer… IT WON’T BE
LONG NOW!
What a day it must have been!
As Dr. King talked about the South “sweltering with the oppression of injustice”,
it was indeed sweltering on that day in Washington. The temperature high was in the mid 90’s.
And yet they seemed to all have been
covered and protected under the cooling shade of respect and dignity and
honor. People were dressed in their
Sunday best; ladies in their dresses and has, with their nice shoes, some with
gloves even. And the men dressed in ties
and suits as well.
At some point, it came time for Dr. King
to speak. He carried his manuscript to
the podium with him and carefully laid it down. Mahalia Jackson – the renowned Gospel singer
was there, along with many other famous people… and many who would someday be famous. Andrew Young, who would become a US Ambassador,
was there – and other members of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference
were there too.
All those people were important to Dr.
King, and he was important to them as well… but Mahalia, now she was maybe more
special to him. She was special to him because
– as I heard this week – she was like his fire. If he was discouraged – and I know how easy
it is to get discouraged – Mahalia would speak her words of encouragement to
him… words that would fill him again with the resolve to move forward… one step
at a time… one step at a time… he would
be ready to meet the challenges his path presented to him. To march facing the intolerance, at best, and
the brutality and violence, at worst, of a land split apart by segregation. It
must have been hard to keep walking the gauntlet, responding, not with an-eye-for-an-eye,
as we humans usually want to do- but with non-violence and love. It must have been hard to walk that path of
turning-the-other-cheek every moment of every day. But Mahalia – Mahalia... she would sing her
Gospel songs, spirituals, songs that would fill the sails of the journey once
again.
Mahalia Jackson had a very tough
childhood! But her voice – that voice of
the angels… saved her. She loved to
sing her Gospel songs! She said once, “I
sing God’s music because it makes me feel free, it gives me hope. With the Blues… when you finish, you still
have the Blues.” When Martin Luther
King had the Blues, he’d call his friend Mahalia to inspire him again!
And then… it came time for the Reverend
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to speak.
The gathered thousands collected themselves, hushed respectfully. He’d prepared a speech for that day – he had
his notes assembled and ready. Dr. King
began to speak – and he was a very good speaker. But Mahalia, who was sitting just behind him
to his left… spoke up- just loud enough for those around her to hear what she’d
said. In her role as inspirer, she told
Martin Luther King, “Tell ‘em about the dream!
Tell ‘em about the dream!”
She’d heard Dr. King share the Dream speech
a few months back, in a church in the Midwest, and knew people here in DC – at that
place, at that time – they needed to hear about the dream.
Someone among his close friends leaned
over to the person next to them and said…”Maybe they don’t know it yet, but
they’re about to hear a sermon!”
And Dr. King shared his dream – of justice
and peace and freedom and equality.
And here we are, 50 years later, and almost to the day of the anniversary of
this famous speech, our government is preparing for the possibility of military
strikes against another country. Whether
warranted or not – I’m not disputing this – I just find the irony
unavoidable. Fifty years, almost to the
day… a day remembered by its civility and its optimism and honest searching for
peace and unity. And I can’t believe we’re
again beating the drums of war!
Syria has certainly served heaping spoon-fulls
of injustice on people within its borders.
This we’ve been hearing about for almost two years now. Syria is not alone. The “sweltering heat of oppression” that
King talked about does indeed still poison the air breathed by missions around
the world! It still rests on peoples
and governments of this planet of ours.
Is war warranted? Can we say?
Is war warranted if it saves thousands
of lives? Hundreds? Tens?
Is war warranted if it saves just one
life? Is the life of even one innocent person worth enough for us
to stop shopping at the mall? Is it
worth enough for us to stop what we’re doing somewhere in our days filled with
activities… and say a prayer for the millions that suffer oppression and
injustice all over our world every single day?
Is this worth going to war over? The President – our president – has a burden I
think the weight of which cannot be measured.
What is the right thing to
do? What is the right thing to do in this situation? I have to believe that he has more
information available to him than we have available to us.
I have to believe that he also knows about
injustice and intolerance and all those “-isms” we are so prone to. I don’t know what the right answer is.
But I know, as president Obama said, we are
a country weary of war!
Can we remember the anniversary of the March
on Washington – a day that took the anniversary of an act of violence… the
murder of a boy… and turned it into an anniversary of hope and salvation? Can we – us – pick up the weapons of prayer
and peace, and justice, and salvation, and change the world we live in? It is hard to do!
I remember when I was very young – about a
year or two older than the age my son is today – it must have been around 1975
or 1976 – I went into DC with my parents for some reason. Up to that point, I hadn’t even spent a full
year of my life in the US yet. We were
about to enter a big department store… I reached out to open the door for a
woman and her female companion. And I
still remember her words. I didn’t understand
them as I do now, but I always remembered them.
She said, “Look at that, a white man holding the door for a black woman.” If I were a black man, would I have to give
my son “the talk”?
We still have some demons to exorcize! Demons that have been haunting us for
centuries. They’ve been hanging on to us
for so long, they’re hard to shake loose.
And the world has its own demons.
But the Gospel truth is the demons of injustice and oppression WILL NOT
WIN!
But we must keep marching!
Who is our Mahalia? Who will tell
us that – in spite of the drums of war – again…freedom and justice and respect
and dignity will win? But we must keep
marching!
Who will tell us that in spite of how
things look… in spite of how they feel… to the Blacks and Whites and Hispanics
and Asians and all the other people of our culture… that Salvation and Freedom is just around the corner?
Who will be the one to remind us to… “Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go
back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to
the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this
situation can and will be changed. Let
us not wallow in the valley of despair”, as King said on that day.
Let
us not wallow in the valley of despair!
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair! We will not! We must keep marching. We do have challenges to face, as
individuals, as families, as a society, as a country, as a world, as human
beings… we do have challenges to face.
But we must keep marching on the path of
faith! We must keep marching, remembering
those who remind us why we are marching.
Who is our Mahalia? Remember them! We must remember the dreams, the words, the
stories… we must remember… so we can reached that Promised Land.
We must remember: God will prevail! God
will prevail
in the end. And we must keep marching.
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