"Martin Luther King, How We See It Today"

Liturgical Materials for Sunday the 20^th of January, 2002

Mark Belletini, Minister First Unitarian Universalist Church of Columbus, Ohio

Opening Words [Next] [back to top]

We are here
thinking, feeling members of creation's body,
creatures of flesh and blood and breath,
to worship, to open ourselves to the truths
of both heart and mind, history and hope.
Love, align us to deep truths that won't let us go.
Shatter any false hopes that the past can be different than it was,
so that we are free to found our future on a demanding justice that heals the world.

And may our reason and passion keep us true to ourselves, true to each other,
and true to those shared visions of what we can together become.

Preface to the Silence [Next] [back to top]

The world is large, O Love.
It stretches beyond my ken or control.
My sight cannot curve over its horizon.

I cannot see children with blond hair
taking afternoon naps in Oberwesel
along the Rhine, or children with black
hair eating supper right now in Daar Es Salaam,
children totally unaware of us in this room;
yet surely their lives are as important to them
as mine is to me and yours are to you.

I cannot see with these eyes all the deep rivers on earth that cut through lovely green hills unknown to me.

I cannot name all the wildflowers in
Nepal using proper Tibetan form,
nor do I have much hope of hearing
crows cawing on the fences of the small farming villages just outside of Hobart, Tasmania.

I have no way to see inside the sanctuaries of a billion human hearts,
to toll the deep, deep troubles there, the hidden shames,
the wistful memories of years gone by, borne off by the too swift flow of time.

Therefore, be blest, Source of Reality,
for these my limits.

I cannot see or hear beyond my very narrow
bounds; be blest for all the boundaries that contain me,
that I may know my small place in the world
and claim no special greatness for myself.

I know my own troubles and pains,
as each human heart knows its own.

But the deep river which connects us,
the flowing Spirit of Life,
makes us all sisters and brothers
in both our troubles and our joys.

And the deep river, deep river begins and ends in silence.

silence

We rise from the silence to remember
and call forth all those who daily inhabit the
heart of our deepest concern. We gather
the names of those we love, those who
love us, those we miss and those who
have given us a glimpse of the sublime.

May the names we lift in silence, or aloud
invite us to make phone calls this week,
send emails or to feast on memory this week.

naming

Deep river of life, flow, flow,
bearing along all the troubles and all
the joys and all the thanks and all
the doubts and all the love. Flow,
sing, and leap the banks with your alleluia.

First Reading [Next] [back to top] comes from a book of poems by Safiya Henderson-Holmes, "Madness and a Bit of Hope," published in 1990. This poem is called:

m.l. king day, nyc, 1989

we are here
at one of the campsites
of the dream

still far from
the mountaintop
still

we the women
we the children
we the men

black, brown, red
yellow, white
we've heard the speeches

and prayers
we've been in the wars
we carry our dead

at times as casually
as air
the hopeful

and the wounded
sit closest
to the fire

soon it will
be morning
again

soon it will be
time to march
again

Second Reading [Next] [back to top] comes from the pen of Martin Luther King Jr. himself, locked up in the Birmingham Jail. He wrote these words on toilet paper and scraps smuggled out of his cell. April 16th, 1963 is the exact date.

I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the eighth century prophets left their little villages with their "thus saith the Lord," I too am compelled to carry the gospel of freedom beyond my particular home town.

Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality.

You deplore the demonstrations that are presently taking place. I am sorry that your statement did not express a similar concern for the conditions that brought the demonstration into being. Your reluctance suggests to me that the contemporary church is often a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. It is so often the supporter of the status quo. The power structure of the average community is consoled by the church's silent and often vocal sanction of things as they are.

Sermon (in two voices, with Tony McDonald)
Martin Luther King, How We See It Today: [Next][back to top]

Mark: When you visit the Martin Luther King, Jr. memorial in Atlanta, as I last did in the early nineteen eighties, you see a serene white marble tomb set in a pool, very simple.

It did not impact me when I saw it the first time. I guess I expected something grander, bolder, befitting a life that so infused itself into the bloody history of the twentieth century with fresh promises of hope and healing that have benefited every single person in this room.

But then I entered the building which houses the Historical Time-Line, and there I could see, literally from week to week, where my life and Dr. King's life overlapped. I was in grammar school or high school when he was marching here or preaching there. I could see how other events, the Korean War and Vietnam War, wove our lives together too. I could see how much progress he made in his life, and I could also see how much progress I made in my own life.

And when I had taken all of this history, both personal and shared, into my heart, I walked back out and saw the tomb. And that is when my eyes grew wet. I saw the tomb of a prophet in whose time I was privileged to live.

I started off, as all of us in this room probably did, pretty inexperienced about the ideas which glowed in Dr. King and so many others by the mid-sixties. I, for one, grew up in a neighborhood of Detroit Michigan, on the East Side. I didn't call where I lived "a white neighborhood," just a neighborhood. My grandparents lived in different neighborhood, where they were the only people of European ancestry. But it was not the ghetto, it was "our neighborhood."

When I was four years old, my mother took me to see the eye doctor for the first time, all the way downtown on the streetcar. He used some drops to dilate my eyes, the effect of which frightened me. But my mother promised that if I didn't fuss, then I could have a hot dog, the only non-Italian food I liked as a child. So I was very good, and we went to Woolworth's and ordered a hot dog. The woman who waited on us had brown skin. When she handed the hot dog to me, I notice that the inside of her hand, her palm, was not brown, but more pale, like my own. I refused to eat the hot dog. My mother, understandably, was peeved. "Marco, I thought you liked hot dogs!" she said with exasperation.

"I do, but mama, that lady's brown skin must have rubbed off when she handed the hot dog to me, and I am not going to eat her skin."

My mother was suitably confused, but figured it out, and laughed a bit. "No, honey, nothing came off her. Her skin is just fine. And there is nothing on your hotdog. Her hands simply have two colors, honey, that's all."

As I grew older, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents in their neighborhoods. I played with all the kids on their block, just as I did on my block on the East Side. But still, in my grammar school and high school there were no black students, just white. Black people did not live where I lived and vice versa. Just as that woman's hand had two colors, the world, too, was divided, I could see, into two colors.

I was taught by my parents that there were certain words, that referred to "those people" with two-color hands that I should never use, and I was told by the nuns and priests that not to fight prejudice inside us was a sin, a mortal sin, the worst kind.

Still, I lived in a white world. I called white people, people. I called black people, black people. And back then I didn't get the terrible significance of what I was doing by speaking of humanity that way.

In 1967 the Detroit Uprising, also called the Detroit Riots, claimed international attention. My relatives in Europe called my family to see if we were OK, the first time I ever remember them calling us on the phone. I watched a lot of this happen since I was working at Hutzel (Women's) Hospital which was right downtown. I saw the fires, the jeeps, the tanks. I experienced curfews, and sirens, and burnt smoke in the air.

When I was in college, I was so totally absorbed by the newness of being on my own to think of anything but myself and my new friends, all of whom were white. One day, this young woman went running down the hallway of the Student Union, her face streaming with tears. "They killed him! They killed King!" she cried out. The guy next to me asked, "Who? Who did they kill?"

And I said, "You know, that black guy who is always giving speeches."

I am afraid to say that's all he was to me in that day. "That black guy." And there were riots in the Detroit streets again that day, thirty miles away from where I was sitting in my comfortable chair.

Tony:   I was driving on the freeway in Los Angeles when I heard the news of Dr. King's death. I, too, was in college (the reverend and I are the same age). I hadn't heard an announcer say exactly what had happened, but I could tell from the tone and the conversation that it could only be one thing. And I thought in my head the same thing that Mark had heard in the Student Union: "They killed him."

"They" was white people, of course. They had killed him. All of them. He was too much for them. They had to do it, didn't they? I was just plain mad.

I started driving recklessly. I wanted to hit a white person. I did not achieve my goal, thank heavens, but that was my gut reaction. It was so clear to me what had happened. They had killed him.

Who was he? Yes, he was a great leader. Not a military leader, like a president, but a moral, spiritual leader. You thought of him with your feelings first, then your brain. Today we consider him the greatest, most important leader of the black struggle of the 60's, but, as I remember, at the time of his death he was only one among many such leaders. Carmichael and even H. Rap Brown were well-noticed. The Black Panthers had claimed a good deal of attention and had taken the movement in a more militant direction, more of a match for the anger already leveled against the Vietnam war.

By the year of his death, King had not done anything "big" for a while and had even seen a few failures, such as a march of his that turned violent in Skokie, Illinois.

Yet, today he is larger than he was in his life, something like an ancient biblical prophet. The clarity and profundity of his message and how he delivered it have kept him in the forefront of all those who fought for Civil Rights and equality long after his death. Only King has the memorials throughout the country, only King has a national holiday, only King has over 100 works of music written in his honor. His presence continues to loom large, so much so that we still turn to him today for guidance when considering matters of race and human relations.

A frequently-asked question this time of year is "What would Martin Luther King say about this or that if he were here today?" Unfortunately, this question is often a prelude to someone taking King's words down off the shelf and using them as a weapon against another person or cause. Of course, we can never know what King would think or say if he were here today. We can be fairly sure, however, that his would be a different message than it was in the 60's. Times have changed too much for that not to be the case.

For when King was marching, the lines and the issues were more black and white (no pun intended), more fundamental. Segregation was still legal in many states, Jim Crow was rampant, and the injustices were so obvious, especially when we could all see them on national television. It was clear what had to be done.

Gaining equality for black people meant Integrating them into the (better) white society integration. That's what he fought for. Today, you can't even use that word "integrate" any more. That's how much times have changed.

We know that problems remain for the black community, however. You have heard the list so many times: poverty, crime, drugs, poor education, poor housing, teen pregnancy, unemployment, racial profiling by the police, a riot in Cincinnati, and there are still more black men in prison than in college.

For much of black America, the second-class status of yesteryear has never been lifted. I believe it is not too much of a stretch to say that this reality would be weighing heavily on the mind of Martin Luther King if he were with us today.

But King, even though he was one of the greatest orators of the 20th century, perhaps in all of history, would have trouble discussing these problems today. The language has become so confused, so corrupted that it is difficult to directly address the issues.

For instance, it is OK to be against Affirmative Action. Many are. Since Affirmative Action is a way to reduce formerly segregated situations of education and employment, a way to get other than white men into the system of the society, I read being against Affirmative Action as being against progress for black people, along with Latinos, other racial minorities, and women, the group that has benefited most from that policy. Affirmative Action, as sometimes practiced, may have flaws, but no one has come up with any other way to achieve similar goals. So being against it, with no viable alternative, has to mean that you are against equality. And being against equality of opportunity is OK today. California, my home state, has lead the nation in abolishing Affirmative Action (turning back the clock on racial progress), and what did they call this movement to wipe out equal opportunity? - the California Civil Rights Initiative. Talk about co-opting a phrase! This movement has taken that historic term and actually turned it against itself.

We have given up speaking English and are now only speaking in code phrases. That is how we mask the truth, continue the denial, ignore the elephant sitting in the middle of room.. We never say "race" anymore, instead we talk about "welfare," "urban schools," "immigration," "bilingual education." And it is all right to be against all these things, just as long as you preface it by saying "I am not a racist" and can expect to be believed. Now, if you know anything about the nature of racism, you know that it is impossible to live in the United States for any length of time and not be affected and infected by this hideous disease. Yet, I dare say, for most Americans, the only racists that they think they see are the Ku Klux Klan.

I have spent considerable thought on weeding through the double-talk and confusion. Even if I find it hard to talk about it, at least I can think about it. I believe America's oldest, continuing social problem must be considered and re-considered and then reconsidered again. It confronts me every time I see that another young black man has been arrested for robbery and murder, or another young black woman is being investigated by the child welfare system because her child was abused and neglected. It confronts me every time I hear again about the unconstitutionality of Ohio's school funding, how legislators can't figure out what to do and thus Appalachian and urban (i.e. black) schools will remain under funded and inadequate.

I have thought about these situations long enough to have developed a system. It's a system of principle. Unitarian Universalist Principle. When considering racial issues, I am guided by certain of our principles that I thought I would share with you. I often start with the idea that we are all in this together. It is a concept, well-articulated by Martin Luther King himself in his Letter from the Birmingham Jail, that the destiny of the white person and the black person are wrapped up in each other, or, to paraphrase King, when some of us are oppressed, none of us can be free. We are working from different places on the same purpose. Non-whites seek equal standing while whites must deal with sharing the privileges granted them simply because of who they are. No one can escape - we are all involved, for we are all part of "the inter-connected web of existence", a phrase, you may recognize, from our common Unitarian Universalist principle #5.

People often ask, "What can I do?" The most important thing that everyone can do is raise his/her own awareness. Take time to peer through the camouflage and the double talk to see what is really going on. Yes, I am talking about the free, uninhibited and responsible search for truth which you may recognize as Unitarian Universalist principle #2. After all, what progress can be made if we close our eyes to all this and hide behind code phrases? We must make an effort to bring racial problems into the bright light of day, to identify the situation honestly, and then to name it clearly.

Finally, I often find myself wondering how to think about these issues, especially since they seem so uncomfortable and seem so negative.

Mark: Indeed, Tony, there is discomfort with this topic. When I think of how oddly I understood black people and cultures as a child, I marvel that I have come as far as I have; but I know I have farther to go. I know this for many reasons, but let me give you one historical metaphor to help you understand how far we have yet to go.

When King was shot, it was undeniably a personal tragedy for his family. It was a tragedy for many in this nation as well. But there were other tragedies going on in that same time period that have no markers or monuments to help us remember their power. For example, for the last six years of King's life, we know now that the FBI harassed him constantly, on their own authority. They sent him letters asking him to commit suicide; they tried to talk colleges out of giving him honorary degrees. They tried to undo the financial support he enjoyed, and tried their best to keep him from receiving the Nobel Peace prize, or from meeting the Pope. You would think that such drastic events would be easy to record and remember. But they were not. The system that tormented King in this vile way was utterly invisible. It has no monument to remind us of its power. It took hundreds of people decades to find out about all this, in fact, and then make it public. And there are still many sealed records.

Such historical realities haul me up short. Even in a free country we are not always free to see the truth. There are systems in place to keep us from it, vast, nameless systems that may be invisible, but which are powerful. Thus, this amazing historical reality warns me not to be naïve, or to rein in my skepticism. It reminds me that it's not just code language that perpetuates the status quo, but secretive and self-anointed schemes and structures, which give up their invisibility only with a struggle.

Because of what happened to King, I have to believe that there are many other systems and invisible factors involved both in modern society and in my own soul. Such systems and unseen assumptions try to excuse me from any responsibility. "I didn't do anything." But as our great Principle reminds us, there is no "search for truth" that is not both "free and responsible." In order to say I am telling the truth, I must always be aware of all the ways I can respond to the world, and the truth is less true when a whole portion of it is invisible.

To search for truth freely is to make the invisible visible.

Tony: In conclusion, I think its important to remember that even in this day and age, there is much separation between the races. Neighborhoods, schools and even churches are still segregated. We don't live amongst each other and so our knowledge of each other is limited. We get most of our information about other races and peoples from the media - television and the movies. I don't need to tell you how distorted that can be.

Consequently, we deal in stereotypes about people not like ourselves. We boil them down to one or two characteristics then, unconsciously, apply those to all like people and never see beyond that two-dimensional profile. It would seem we have no choice on how to think about others unless we fight the stereotypes consciously. Here, I employ the great words that founded this country, the words on which the (real) Civil Rights movement was built --that "all men are created equal." Never mind, for the moment, that Thomas Jefferson was not speaking of blacks or women when he wrote that hallowed phrase. The concept was stated so unequivocally, so absolutely, that it can never be ignored or dismissed. And what an idea! Science has proven beyond a doubt that no one race is superior to any other. We really are genetically equal. Now, if we can just think of each other that way, and not succumb to the temptation to make one group not quite as smart, not quite as moral, more susceptible to violence, just a little less civilized -then we will have followed Jefferson's edict. We will have avoided stereotypes and considered each person, whether from the Near East side or Upper Arlington, as an individual, as a human being, with the pluses and minuses, the needs and desires that all humans have. We will have considered the inherent worth and dignity of the individual -and that is Unitarian Universalist principle #1, as most of you know.

Mark and Tony Together: The poet Safiya Henderson Holmes tells us it's time "to march again."

So it is. We both feel strongly we have to march again, march with our self-questioning and our study, march with our meeting of each other and with telling our stories, march not so much with banners raised as with our awareness raised.

We have to march in our clear speaking, and by avoiding code, march in our wrestling with the whole truth and nothing but relentlessly and without ceasing.

(Joined Voices) The world we share, the one we are all in together, we feel, can only benefit from such a march.

Spiritual of spirituals [back to top]

(sung) Gonna lay down my easiness,
Gonna lay down my codes and cant,
Gonna lay down my guilt and shame,
Gonna lay down my hurt and hype,
Gonna lay down my hide and seek,
Gonna lay down my tag, you're it,
Gonna say we're together now,
down by the river side, down by the riverside,

(spoken) down by the riverside,
gonna let that great river,
wash it all to the sea
so I have all the room
and time I need to study
how to better love.

[back to top]
 

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