How shall we keep the dream alive? This is not a rhetorical question. In the warm months of 2020, we were in the streets witnessing the need for change in our criminal justice system. We created marched and kept vigil, studied and discussed, we called on our political leaders for specific legislative change. We felt a wave growing so large that change seemed inevitable.
Right now, we face the most contagious wave of the pandemic, legislatures who are passing more laws to take away voting rights than to create a more just world, and the change we called for in 2020 to our justice system has been grudging and incremental where it has come at all.
In his famous “I Have a Dream" speech at the march on Washington, that he gave on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to that massive gathering in support of civil rights, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us of the passage in the Jewish scriptures [Amos 5:24]: “we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.“. Back in the spring of 2020 we could feel the growing power of that stream, the momentum. Today it feels like a trickle.
How shall we keep the dream alive? Because it’s an important dream- it’s a beautiful dream. As a people who affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, it is our dream. And that dream needs our steady attention and support both when the realization seems close at hand, and when progress is slow, when we can’t see the way forward. We must keep that dream alive in our hearts until it is finally realized.
How shall we keep the dream alive? We honor the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. this week for his heroism and inspiring words, but we also honor all those thousands who worked and sacrificed in service to that dream, through thousands of acts, large and small. One key, I think, to keeping the dream alive is not to imagine that there is one heroic act that we could do, as individuals, as a congregation, that will finally bring racism to an end. We must be willing to do all the humble invisible things that are part of great social change.
Racism is part of our collective shadow, it is bigger than any one of us. When we face our collective shadow as a nation, as a civilization, it can be overwhelming. My teacher Br. Don Bisson gave us this advice, at the first meeting of our class on the collective shadow: to be careful of inflation and deflation. Inflation is whenever we think that we ourselves can single-handedly defeat something in our collective shadow, like racism. That we can swoop in like a super hero, and slay the evil in a single great battle. Racism is real, and tenacious, and bigger than any one of us, that is why it persists. He also warned us not to deflate ourselves, not to see the size of the shadow, and give in to despair, thinking there is nothing we can do. Despair, he said, is what the shadow wants from us. As Margaret Mead is in our hymnal “never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committee citizens can change the world, indeed it’s the only thing that ever has.” Let that water of justice trickle through our own hearts, through our little community, trusting that like the creeks and tributaries all over this land that feed the great rivers, Susquehanna and Chemung the Chenango, our small acts, our small lives feed that great river of justice.
King got involved in leadership in the civil rights movement back in 1955, with the bus boycotts. He was a young minister in his 20s at his first church. During that movement his house was bombed, he spent his first nights in jail, but real change was won, as the courts ruled bus segregation unconstitutional. In 1961 King was involved in the movement that lead to the desegregation of lunch counters. But 1962, 60 years ago from this year, was actually a difficult time in the civil rights moment. People made many sacrifices, but saw no concrete change that year. Perhaps it’s helpful to remember that even during the great Civil Rights era, there were years like 1962 when the flow of justice slowed to a trickle. The following year, 1963, was the year of the great march on Washington, where King gave that famous" I Have a Dream" speech.
It wasn’t until the march on Selma in 1965 that the Unitarian Universalists really got involved in number. When those UU ministers and white folks showed up, we were able to offer the kid of support to the movement that made a difference. It was a proud day for our UU Faith, and our public stance drew in a wave of black members who were moved by our actions. In 1967 the momentum swelled in our denomination, and we made a significant commitment of funding and action in 1968, but almost immediately that mighty swell receded.
By 1970 the UUA board voted for a reduction in funding due to a financial crisis and some factions pushed for a leadership structure that would make sure there was white oversight of how the funds earmarked for black empowerment would be used. There was a great controversy and many black members and other folks committed to anti racism and black empowerment left our churches. Our work on anti-racism slowed to a trickle.
We, as a denomination, have that in our collective shadow. We must learn from our history, and keep the dream of an anti-racist, anti-oppressive faith alive. In recent years the momentum, the commitment for anti-racism swelled again, and we have to ask ourselves, are we a denomination who shows up for anti-racism when momentum is at high tide? Or are we a denomination who has taken the calling to work for anti racism into our identity, who shows up day after day to do the steady work of change? That is where we are now- can we keep our steady attention and support on this dream?
We are called to keep this dream alive- not only that beautiful dream MLK shared in his speech, the dream of all those who fought for civil rights in the60s, but our UU dream of truly being an anti-racist, anti-oppressive organization. To do that, the people most impacted by the work must be making decisions, must give input, must be in leadership. UU is making progress with this. We have the report from the commission on institutional change that we called for during the swelling of passion for justice in our movement, but can we commit to the steady and often invisible work of implementing their suggestions in every part of our lives together?
We Unitarian Universalists are not called only when the streets are full of protestors, not only when anti-racism is in the news each day. We are called to do the slow work of justice, day after day. We are called to keep learning and growing our capacity. To show up and keep showing up.
How can we keep the dream alive when we are weary? When we are stuck at home? There are few marches in the streets this weekend, because Omicron is at high tide. As a denomination we have made choices to protect the most vulnerable by social distancing, by masking, by following CDC guidance. Our commitment to stay home this morning, to have this very worship online was informed by our commitment to protect the most vulnerable, knowing that people of color are disproportionately impacted by this pandemic.
In times like this, when we are dealing with illness and grief and weariness, the way we keep the dream alive will look different than it did in the summer of 2020, or 1963. If you are full of energy for justice right now, and looking for new places to roll up your sleeves, here are some wonderful places to get start today:
- Showing up for Racial Justice
- The BLUU Housing Initiative
- Criminal Justice Reform
- Black Lives Matter
- Protect Voting Rights
...let us know what you learn and we will do everything we can to support you.
But if you are weary, if you are overwhelmed, I invite you to simply keep the dream before you in the things you are already doing. Racism is truly in all the aspects of our shared life, and so our attention is needed in all those small tidepools of life as well.
A few years ago I gave a sermon encouraging folks to find ways to listen for voices they don’t normally hear. I suggested that if we love poetry, we can seek out poetry in voices different than our own. That if we love science fiction, we might check out afro-futurism, that if we love movies, we could support movies with black directors and writers, that if we love classical music we could see out black and brown performers and composers. I received feedback from one white person who said “is this really the most important thing we could be doing to end racism?” No, of course not. But how many days of the year do we get the opportunity to do that one heroic act? We may never get a chance to make history, like Rosa Parks, or Dorothy Cotton or James Reeb. On days when we don’t have the opportunity to do the most important thing, we can do something. Like a musician who practices every day so they are ready for the big concert, I encourage us to practice anti-racism everyday, perhaps when the moments come when we can do the hard thing, we can recognize it, and be ready to act skillfully.
How can we keep the dream alive? The thing we keep learning about racism, is how it is woven into almost every aspect of our lives together. It is not only in the criminal justice system, but in housing, in our schools, in our churches, in the arts. I stumbled upon an article this week explaining that black hair in video games is terrible (I had no idea), and that game design companies never seem to have the resources or motivation to fix the problem, so some enterprising folks are creating an Open Source Afro Hair Library of black hair styles that are beautiful, that encourage pride for all those touched by the gaming industry.
Or…Since the pandemic I’ve spent a lot of time watching birds. My interest in poetry and birds and anti-racism lead me to this wonderful poet: J Drew Lanham who introduced me to the black birder movement, - I had been completely ignorant of the challenges and dangers for black people who love watching birds like I do.
On all the ordinary days of the year, days when we are stuck at home, or weary, there are still opportunities to weave that vision of a world free of racism into our lives. We can support the dreams not only for our justice system, where things are among the most terrible, but also all the dreams that make up a complex and rich life- in our colleges, in our symphonies, in our video games, in our children’s libraries. In our parenting, and grandparenting and aunting and uncling, in our workplaces and football stadiums.
If you don’t know where to begin, type something you love, something you do every day into your favorite search engine with the word “racism in” before it. Or the word “black” or “native American” before it. Begin to learn how racism has been, still is part of the fabric of our daily lives, begin to learn the gifts and contributions and dreams of black people and other marginalized people to the things you care about. Don’t let the big things beyond our control keep you from doing the things you can do, touching the lives you can touch.
If you are the praying type, bring this to prayer, Ask for guidance about how your life can be part of that mighty stream:
“Spirit of life, weary and discouraged as I am today, help me find my own way to keep the dream alive.”
If you are not one who prays, follow your conscience, and see where it leads you.
Remember that board of directors of the Nashville public library who quietly voted to integrate all their facilities in the 1950s, and what a big difference it made to author Patricia McKissack, and many untold others.
In the words of 3D artist Jovan Wilson who contributed some really cool looks to the Open Source Afro Hair Library “I hear a lot of people say, ‘Why does it matter?’ Because it means a lot, you know? You want to see yourself. I’ve seen so many kids faces just light up when they see dolls and characters that look like them. It means something,” Wilson said. “So seeing this project for the first time was like time for me to heal my inner child.”[ii]
When we do the small things we can do, we may never know the difference we make, but we can help keep that dream alive, Let us protect that dream like a precious family heirloom, until it is finally realized.
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