MAKING THE DREAM A REALITY
I have a dream.
It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
This Morning, as we share in the annual observance of the birthday of Martin Luther King Jr., these majestic, powerful words, envisioning the hope for universal justice and peace that is both our common dream as Americans, as well as the Eternal Mandate of our shared spiritual heritage, calls us to always remember that the ultimate goal of faith is the transformation of human society. Both Judaism and Christianity clearly proclaim that our faith must be translated into
action ... our creeds into deeds, as we strive to build the Kingdom of God here on earth.
In every one of Dr. King’s speeches and sermons- and in his broader leadership of our nation’s historic struggle for Civil Rights – this Prophetic faith, expressed in characteristic Biblical cadences, was always his essential inspiration…and it must be ours as well.
We once again hear these great words of peace, in a world torn by conflict and hatred... violence and suffering. Forty five years after the March on Washington, our country is still mired in racism, prejudice and cultural conflict, economic injustice and violence. While some of the dream has been haltingly realized , and great strides have been made, we- like Dr. King – and Moses before him - still stand on the borders of the Promised Land… dimly viewing on the horizon an America that has yet to fulfill its mission and potential.
And as we strive to make Martin Luther King’s dream a reality for all people, and transform America into that beacon of justice and hope – that “Light to the Nations” - in the words of today’s reading from Isaiah – that its Founders envisioned, we need to confront the challenges and the opportunities that lie before us. Beyond the high sounding rhetoric and the demeaning pandering that characterizes our current political leadership on all sides, and has turned the Presidential Primaries into a grotesque circus of hypocrisy and squabbling, we need to hear the clarity and courage of Dr. King’s voice more than ever.
I believe that the activist motto, "think globally - act locally" can be a
very constructive way for us to respond to the otherwise paralyzing urgency all around us. We have so many challenges confronting us within the urban environment of our own neighborhood -- issues that define much of our respective missions as the people of Emmanuel Church and Boston Jewish Spirit. While we must always remain informed and engaged in the moral and social issues confronting society, I wonder if the more incremental progress that we can achieve in resolving the problems that we face every day might be a way of helping to heal the brokenness of the world beyond us.
As we all know, we do not have to look very far for encounters with the pain and injustice that exist in every corner of this planet. The War in Iraq and global conflict everywhere, may make the headlines, but we have our own confrontations with sorrow and suffering right here in our own midst. The challenges of urban life --poverty, homelessness, drug abuse, poorly funded and low performing public schools and social services, racial polarization – are never far from our consciousness here in Boston… particularly at this tragic time when the plague of street violence spreads throughout our city. And we are certainly not shielded from these realities, even and here in this very neighborhood. We confront all of them personally -- and often graphically -- every time we come to this building. Back Bay may be the wealthiest and toniest section of the City of Boston -- but the polar extremes of wealth and poverty, privilege and disenfranchisement, the painful irony of street people sleeping in the doorways of some of the most expensive real estate in America -- all of these stark realities converge together in glaring counterpoint in this neighborhood, and often, it seems,
in this very block of Newbury Street.
Now while many inner-city congregations consist of people who might choose to live elsewhere if they had an option, most of us -- of both Emmanuel Church and of Boston Jewish Spirit -- despite these pressures, are dyed-in-the-wool urbanites. We have chosen to live in the city or its immediate environs because we want to be in the midst of the energy and richness of metropolitan life.
And yet, as we know, city life is not all trendy restaurants, funky cafes,
theatres and museums. It is also a daily encounter -- and often a constant struggle -- with those very challenges that are the other, darker side of the urban environment. Some feel assaulted by them. Others try to ignore them as a coping and survival mechanism. But the faces of poverty and despair are never too far from our sight-lines. Now, hopefully, most of us by virtue of our presence here and our belief in the principles of a broad, progressive, justice-seeking spirituality, feel compelled to try to respond to these realities with compassion and commitment. This Congregation, of course, has a long history of openness, advocacy and outreach to those of our neighbors whose experience of life in the center of Boston is NOT one of
choices and opportunities. For generations, the powerless and
disenfranchised have seen this place as a literal sanctuary. Perhaps it's
Emmanuel's symbolic location as a witness of spiritual values in the midst of Newbury Street's elegant cafes and boutiques -- Boston's ground-zero of conspicuous consumption. Maybe it's the genteel shabbiness of this building, which makes a statement of priorities very different from the glitzy storefronts all around us here. Whatever the confluence of forces, both Emmanuel and BJS are at the epicenter of both the challenge and the response of urban life in Boston. And because of this unique reality, it seems to me that we are presented with two particular responsibilities.
The first is to try to respond, in the spiritual life of our two
congregations, to how exhausting, frustrating and indeed numbing all of this can be. The most socially aware and committed among us can hear the refrain "Can you spare any change?" only so many times a day before we become oblivious or even resentful. We can walk past homeless people wrapped in filthy blankets sleeping on the front steps of this very building only so many times until they become invisible. And we must also contend with the more personally affecting aspects of city life -- the constant need for vigilance regarding our own safety, the tension and sheer exhaustion of the pace of the urban scene, the trash on the streets, the difficulties of transportation, the constant assault on our senses, the ceaseless blaring of sirens and car horns and the colorful expletives from Beantown's notorious drivers. And most of all, the desolate loneliness and sense of isolation that one can be overwhelmed by -- in the midst of crowds of people, who literally live on top of each other, but who have no meaningful human contact.
How do we cope and keep a sense of equilibrium? What resources of inner strength and compassion can we draw upon as we yearn for community and genuinely seek to heed the call of conscience that we hear in the midst of all this cacophony?
Here is where city life poses the most critical challenges for our spiritual
life and growth. We have all found our way HERE -- seeking strength and solace, wisdom and inspiration, friendship and community. Many of us probably come to this Sanctuary looking for a little peace and quiet in the midst of our busy, hectic, sensory overloaded week. And together we seek, in our faith and spiritual journeys, a source of healing and renewal in the face of all of these pressures and tensions. This is certainly a major part of what this place should be for all of us in the face of the cold, impersonal isolation of city life -- a sacred space of calm, a place to replenish our spiritual and emotional energies, a safe place to feel the support and concern of a community. Before we can seriously and creatively respond to the practical challenges, we must work to ground ourselves in a spiritual commitment that imbues us with compassion, strength and hope.
And yet this is indeed only part of the challenge. For as we know, this
cannot be only a place of respite and healing! It must also always be a
place of prophetic witness, vision and empowerment! As we gather together here to nourish our souls and renew our spirits, we are always aware that we will inevitably leave this place, and return to the thick of it. The sirens of police cars are never fully drowned out by the organ. The sight of the cityscape is always in our peripheral vision, even if screened for the moment by the soft hues of stained glass. And so, while we may well come here looking for inspiration and grounding, for centering and healing – and perhaps even for an hour of respite and escape -- we will soon walk through those doors once again, and it will all confront us anew. Renewal and nourishment may be what draws us here, but the real measure of meaning in our worship, and the true barometer of our spiritual growth, is what happens
when we LEAVE this place -- how we take the message and the motivation of the spirit, and translate it into transforming, redemptive action beyond these walls!
Belief AND action, creed AND deed, are both the inseparable components of a full, vigorous, mature faith. Volunteering at a shelter or a food distribution program can be as sacramental as worship. Civic engagement and active participation in the protection of civil rights and liberties -- writing letters to public policy makers and lobbying legislators -- are as much "mitzvahs", religious obligations, as are singing hymns and hearing sermons! In the end an authentic progressive faith calls us both to pray and to work to transform and redeem society, an ideal which in Jewish tradition is called "Tikkun Olam" -- our partnership with God in the healing of our broken world.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of
Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
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