Note: Very interestingly, I said, when creating the blog, that I don't even like to write. I still do not think I do. However, at times I have felt so compelled to write, that it has been a surprise. So I actually have a good number of blog entries, all in my little notebook that I now carry everywhere. I hope to get them typed up soon. Evidently it is proving to be good therapy. But this one can't wait. It would have been nice if I could have posted some of those already written. It would be clear then, that on my journey I have read "Blood Done Sign My Name" and "The Help". There would be history I've learned that has impacted me. This entry, then, would make sense at this point in time, not just because it is Martin Luther King Day.
Last night we attended a community service in celebration of the Life, Ministry, Mission, and Legacy of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It was held at a local Black church downtown. What an absolutely overwhelming and uplifting experience!
I don't know about anyone else who likes to read, but I've read some authors, who have such a talent with descriptive prose that I am right there, with the story's characters. I'm "in" the story. I'm part of it. If the story has comedic elements, I'm laughing right out loud.
Boy, do I wish I were a verbal artist! Just like those authors. Then anyone who reads this would be able to visualize and thus experience the MLK service without having been there. And I think they would be enriched.
First of all, the church itself was beautiful and a very fitting setting for the service. The woodwork and pews were a rich, dark wood. There was a pipe organ, and a wrap around balcony, and stained windows that were themselves works of art. There was an overall warmth to the place. It was a well-chosen setting for people trying to come together. And, it felt like a place you could envision Martin Luther King giving a sermon. In a word, it was perfect.
Next, the clergy involved was so inclusive that it somehow gave me a sense of hope, a sense of how things are supposed to be: "People, just people" (to quote a favorite song of mine) getting together. Not only were there various denominations represented, but there was a Rabbi and an Imam. And a woman minister gave the message! It was wonderful. They all came in during processional music and went out the same, a visual symbol of unity.
Then there was the music itself. Although there was a pipe organ (probably a rare thing these days) there was also a base drum that at times added a weight, a heaviness to the music. At other times it inspired spontaneous clapping, swaying and celebration. At the service's beginning we sang a hymn, Lift Every Voice and Sing, that was originally a poem written by a Black author and later, early in the 20th century, set to music by his brother. It speaks of the struggle of the past and expresses hope that God will continue to sustain His Black children. The music at the conclusion of the service was uplifting and powerful in its energy. The choir of the host Black church and that of a Presbyterian church combined for the service. From my perspective it was a perfect illustration of the ability of music and human talents and endeavors to bind us together. Those Black and White voices blended beautifully, to my ears.
Add to the setting and the music a powerful, intense, thought-provoking service, shared in by all those "different" clergy and individuals I mentioned. And you might have a sense of the experience itself. There was a reading of Dr. King's speech. "I Have Seen The Promised Land", delivered in Memphis on the eve of his assassination. It appeared to have a prophetic sense that he might not get to finish the struggle. He said the point was not to engage in negative argument, in negative protest. The point was to say they were God's children and they were determined to take their rightful place in God's world. I intend to read the speech in its entirety again.
The sermon, presented by the wife of a local Presbyterian minister, who is herself, also a reverend, drew a standing ovation from attendees, Black and White, men and women. It was particularly powerful because she looked back at Wilmington's history and talked about the future. Prior to 1898 Wilmington was a beacon of light, so to speak. Blacks were, for the most part, equal members of the community. The city government was biracial. Blacks were business owners and leaders. There was a daily newspaper, owned and run by members of the Black community. But, then, in November 1898, the political powers created an atmosphere of fear that resulted in the slaughter of Blacks, the burning of the building that housed the newspaper. As I understand it, the violence, killing, and change of political power is the only coup d'etat in US history. The sermon encouraged people to remember what was and certainly can be created again. It was said that while no individual there was responsible for what happened previously, we are responsible for how we treat one another now and in the future. We were reminded that Hispanics would have to be included in our concern for treating each other well. The minister reminded us that they are away from home and Jesus said we are to be hospitable.
This is a very poor summary of only a small part of the sermon text. But it hopefully gives at least a flavor of the fairness and the framework of the appeal for harmony, for creating a future like the one Dr. King envisioned and worked toward, and for which he was willing to die. (Just as an aside, I have to ask myself if I would be willing to die for the good of others? Especially if I were hated because of what I believed in and because of my life's work. Would I give up?)
At the conclusion of the service there were "Blessings from the Three Traditions". The Rabbi, the Imam, and the minister all asked for God's blessing. I didn't understand much except the minister's blessing and the prayer of another. But, you know what? I didn't need to understand the words. I understood the true meaning and intent behind the blessings. Kind of like the student who doesn't get the "technical" aspects of studying literature. S/he might miss the foreshadowing. Might not understand the symbolism. Might not be able to identify the dénouement. BUT, s/he got the message, the meaning intended.
I know this is long, but remember I am writing as therapy. So let me write just a little more. Let me write the prayer of one of the ministers, Rev. Richard Elliott. Allan had asked him for a copy. He promised to try and remember as much of what he said as possible. He had not prepared it ahead of time. He honored Allan's request and sent it via email this morning. Talk about perfect timing.
And lastly let me verbalize how I think this has helped me in my journey.
Here is the prayer of The Rev. Richard G. Elliott, exactly as written in his email.
Holy God:
We live in a world surrounded by voices; voices which try to tell us who we are.
They tell us that we are what we consume, and that the more we have, the better we are.
They tell us that we are individuals, isolated in our own homes; that our children are more important than other children.
They tell us that we are not our brother's keeper; that we are not our sister's keeper.
They tell us that what separates us from one another is more important than what draws us together.
The only time when we are free from these voices is when we sleep. Trouble our sleep, but not with nightmares. The voices of the world have created nightmares enough: poverty, hunger, division.
Trouble our sleep with dreams of hope; hope for the blessed community where we are our brother and sisters' keepers, where we realize that there is no child in our community that is not our child. Trouble our sleep with dreams of hope until your dream and our dreams become one.
And when we awake, put a fire under our feet, so that we cannot stand still, until in ways both small and great we have worked to make this place an outpost of that blessed community which is your dream for all.
His prayer gives a beautiful summary of the tone of the service, the encouragement and appeal to all of us who attended. That's a prayer I would like to live out.
On the way home Allan said that the service was overwhelming in a good way. He thought it was because it gave you an actual sense of exactly what the struggle of Blacks has been. And then it gave you the realization that they have kept going, in spite of it all. A concise, excellent description of the experience.
Now let me try and make sense, for myself, of where and how the service might fit into my journey. You know what I wanted by the end? I wanted to know more people like these who attended and like the clergy. The clergy belong to a Ministerial Roundtable of Wilmington. Their Statement of Purpose, part of which is below, resonates with me.
"The Ministerial Roundtable is committed to gathering together in order to forge friendships with one another, to seek a clearer understanding of God's will for human community, to encourage one another to engage our congregations in the struggle against racism, and to be faithful participants in the racial healing we believe God is carrying out in our nation.
We believe God calls us to repent of attitudes which demean others, to repent of institutional practices which foster homogeneous worship and religious life, and to repent of and correct injustices in our city and nation which deny life as God intended for all people.
We believe that peace eludes all members of a society wherever any are hated or oppressed. (Italics theirs.)
I think this appeals to me so strongly because it describes the kind of world I would want our sweet Natalia to live in. If the world were exactly as Rev. Elliott prayed for, it would be such a comfort, especially when I think of the point in time when I wouldn't be here to help lift her up and encourage her. I want a world in which there would be concern for her life; her life as a whole. From what I understand, that is exactly the kind of love Jesus told us to have for others.
This morning I am wishing I could do something to gently encourage people to get to know others different from themselves; to see individuals, not groups of people; to do as Rev. Elliott's prayer said, see all children as our children. In my mind it would be like when we stand behind a baby who is learning to walk. We support and help them by letting them hang on to our hands. We clap and cheer them on. We nudge them forward when they are hesitant or afraid. I think that is what God does for us, or very much wants to. I don't know if we are even trying to hang on to His hands. I don't know if we are bothering to listen to His words of encouragement, urging us to look at things from the perspective of another and try to love him/her. But what could I do, exactly? How could I be that encourager? No idea. But somehow that thought is in my mind. Could that be a better use of whatever life is left me? I hope I get the answer.
I started out by wishing I were a verbal artist. After trying to write this, how much more I wish that!! I think the service would have moved even a heart hardened against people of color, at least to some small degree. And if I could verbally reproduce the service atmosphere and its impact, maybe I would be doing something. And I would do it in Natalia’s memory. She, like all babies, would not have seen skin color, body shape or size. They only see what matters. So, wouldn’t that be an especially touching, appropriate thing to do in her memory?
