(UCC News) I have a confession to make. A couple of years ago after being invited year after year to preach somewhere on the Sunday before the Martin Luther King Holiday, I promised myself that I was going to stop accepting invitations to preach on anywhere on the MLK holiday weekend. I understand the importance of this observance, but I felt that it was hard to not to come off as predictable or to strike just the right tone or to really inspire and celebrate. Every time I spoke on this particular Sunday, I ended up feeling pretty inadequate, and I told myself quite frankly who needs that? After all, my role as Associate General Minister is primarily an administrative role. I was not called to this position because of my great preaching abilities.Hardly! I was called to be an administrator and that is the place and role that I am most comfortable with. So, could someone PLEASE explain to me how I ended up in a pulpit again on the Sunday before the MLK Holiday and not just any MLK holiday, but THE one that is the day before this country inaugurates the first African-American President! Talk about a loaded Sunday. I agreed to be here long ago, before anyone knew what the historical importance of his particular Sunday would be. And so the last couple of weeks, I have been asking myself what I could possibly say this morning that might be the least bit original and even slightly inspiring or that would do justice to the occasion. The symbolic nature of what awaits us this week is certainly powerful enough without words from me.
But I also realized that even though anything I say won’t add or hopefully detract from the power of the of week, it may be important for “regular folks” like all of us to take some time to think about and take in the meaning of this week in a way that is more reflective than the sound bites, pictures and political analysis that we’re going to experience over the next several days. I acknowledge that I don’t know what everyone’s political perspective is, and that really isn’t the point here this morning because we will all share this moment in time. And so, I invite you to bear with me and listen in on some of what I have been thinking about the days ahead and what it’s like for me to stand between memory and hope.
Given the context, I’ve been thinking a lot about memory and memories and realizing that memory is a strange thing. I was born in Kansas City, Kansas in 1953, a year before the Brown vs., the Board of Education decision that said that separate educational facilities for blacks and whites were inherently unequal. So I never experienced the schools in a time where separate but equal was legal. I never lived in places where I even saw signs that said colored only or whites only. I’ve never been denied the right to vote as an African American or as a woman; I never had to literally sit in the back of the bus and I have never been denied service in a restaurant or hotel because I am African American. Yes, like many African Americans or maybe most, I have experienced the more subtle forms of racism and discrimination, but I never experienced the overt and horrendous indignities that are part of our nations’ history with African Americans. But curiously, even though I didn’t personally live through these experiences, they are in many ways part of who I am. My grandparents lived in Mississippi and Oklahoma and they and my parents did experience many horrendous indignities. Even though you and I were not personally there, we know about the Little Rock Nine and how they bravely integrated Central High School despite the physical danger and threats to keep them out. Many of us remember seeing Bull Conner and hoses and dogs on our TV sets and we remember the pledges of many that south would never be integrated. Even though we may not have personally experienced or participated in anything even remotely like the harshest and ugliest things we know that are part of the history of African Americans in this country, it is part of our collective history, our national memory if you will and just as I have been shaped by those experiences and memories, my guess is that in some ways you have as well. Memories are powerful, they live on and in some ways we are grateful for that. We want to hold on our memories”¦at least the good ones. We want to remember precious times past with loved ones who are now gone, we want to hold on to those memories of our child’s first birthday or of their first step or of their graduation from kindergarten or high school, we want to hold on to the memory of that first big promotion or that first kiss. While our memories don’t make us who we are, our memories are in some way the collective embodiment of who we are and are reflective of our personal journey and stories.
But we don’t quite know what to do with the collective painful and difficult memories do we? We generally want to just get beyond them, forget them, sweep them under the rug, and get over it. And I totally get that. Who wants to hang on to things that hurt? Who really wants to
live in the past? So the thing about memories,
especially the difficult ones is to find the right venue for them, too ask the right questions about them, to be conscious of how they have shaped us, in good ways and perhaps not so good ways and to know when they are helping us or when they are holding us back. And perhaps at some point maybe we get to a place where those painful memories don’t have quite the same power and they are more informative than they are impactful. The pain of Martin Luther King’s death has receded some, but MLK Day is at least in part about memory. It’s about remembering the man, remembering his work, remembering not only his dream but the dream of so many others as well.
Dreams of freedom from oppression, dreams of equal treatment of all people regardless of the color of ones skin, dreams that the American Dream might be attainable for all, and dreams that we might indeed judge either other by the content of our character rather than the color of our skin. Remembering the legacy of Martin Luther King is important , and I don’t think this memory is one we walk away from. But I also hope that Martin Luther King Day is about not only remembering the dream, but recommitting ourselves to help that dream live in tangible ways. I confess that one reason that I have never really felt totally comfortable celebrating Martin Luther King Day is because it has felt like we recite the I Have a Dream speech one day and then go about business as usual the next. It has always seemed too easy, too automatic. I am not suggesting that we all have to live every day totally consumed by all that is wrong with the world, by all the injustices that have yet to be righted, by what we have not yet achieved. But I wonder especially on MLK Day if I am doing all that I can to make the world a better place. I sometimes wonder what my little corner of the world be like if I more fully lived the commitment that Martin Luther King had to justice, not just for African Americans, but for all people. How much would I have to redefine my priorities, what difference would a renewed commitment make? In some ways, only remembering Martin Luther King is a hallow honor. I think that doing something to help further his dream is what the day calls for. A day of service as the President Elect has called for? Maybe that’s it, but something that indeed engages us actively in keeping the dream alive.
And so tomorrow, we will honor Martin Luther King Jr; looking back on his life. And then on Tuesday, we will look forward to the future and inaugurate the first African-American President in our history; Martin Luther King, representing memory of the civil rights struggle and Barack Obama embodying the dream. Even many who didn’t vote for Barack Obama agree that he is a very compelling figure. He has been able to galvanize millions to hope and dream and imagine in ways that we have not seen in this country for many years. All of that is so important, but the sense in the country that we are embarking on something new, the sense of hope that he as nurtured in this country, the sense of pride that we are moving beyond something is as much about the past as it is about the future, it’s
as much about memory as it is about hope. We
look back at slavery, at the civil rights struggle, at the life of Martin Luther King, Jr.
and we feel that just maybe we are poised for something new. But the reason our hope is so great is because our memories are still so clear.
I have no illusions, I assume that as an African American you expect to hear something like this from me this morning. But this week and this moment is not just about us as African Americans, it is about all Americans and I suggest that it is as important for white Americans as it is for me. I can’t know completely how this feels for many of you, but I imagine that because of our collective history, you also feel like we are turning a page that you yearn for. Not that the whole book is finished by any means. On Wednesday morning, there will still be racial misunderstandings and prejudice and all the problems that exist today, but there will have been a shift, an important change, a statement being made about who you are and who we are as a country that moves us further down the road in a
new way. We hope for new ways of being one
nation under God, we hope for new ways of valuing each person for who they are and the gifts that God has given them. I imagine that many of my Euro American sisters and brothers like you, also feel a renewed sense of pride in who we are as Americans.
As we watch and participate in the events of the next several days I hope we will all remember that Martin Luther King Day and the inauguration of a new President is not just about politics and that’s why it’s so appropriate for persons in pulpits across this country to be reflecting on what this time means to so many. Remember, Martin Luther King Junior was a pastor, the role of the church and of Christians in the civil rights movement can’t be overlooked or forgotten.
The concerns that Martin Luther King was addressing back in the 60s were not just issues of society and culture, they were issues of justice. The same is true for many of the challenges that face this new administration. The call to respect and care for each other as sisters and brothers isn’t just a political or sociological statement. Remember the words of Jesus, “If you love me, feed my sheep.” The greatest commandment is to love the Lord God with all our hearts and minds, but the second one is like it, to love our neighbor as ourselves.
Concerns about racial equality, and poverty and homelessness and war and health care and the marginalization of the voiceless and powerless are moral issues, they are issues that people of faith must be engaged in. If this exciting moment in time is going to be anything other than a short lived, feel good moment, then all of us must be partners in bringing about the change we seek. And that includes those of us who are people of faith as well, we don’t have the luxury of sitting in church on Sundays and not taking our faith with us on Mondays. Our faith is like the touch tone or the chorus in a melody, it’s an essential part of our lives; not compartmentalized on Sundays only. All of us must be engaged in working together for the common good, all of us must remember that another world is possible, but it is possible only if we commit ourselves to making dreams live beyond one day, one week, one month or the first 100 days. There are people hurting and they need systemic change and in the United Church of Christ, we believe that our faith calls us out from Sunday into the challenges of everyday life.
Despite all of the excitement and anticipation of something new, we have to remember that Barack Obama is not the second coming, he is a man, and as other Presidents, he is fallible, he will disappoint us at times and none of us will agree with all of his decisions, actions and leadership. As the church, we must speak truth to power, regardless of who is in power, we can’t be seduced. There is that bumper sticker that says God is not Republican or a Democrat and that is true. Our role as the church and as Christians is to continue to raise our voices for more just systems, for eradication of poverty, for policies that don’t discriminate on the basis of race, gender, physical ability or sexual orientation, to encourage and support and pray for peace. And we are called to do this not because of a particular political perspective but because of our belief in a Stillspeaking God, who is a God of love and a God of justice.
You know when George called and asked me for a sermon title, I told him that I don’t really do sermon titles anymore because generally I end up trying to write a sermon to fit a sermon title that I gave rather than finding a title for a sermon I’ve written. He didn’t press me then but I later for some reason I sent him a title and you have heard me refer to it a couple of times, “Between Memory and Hope.” Sometimes I get a bit obsessive about the exact meaning of a word and so late last night, I went to dictionary.com and looked up the word “between.” It’s a common word, we use it all the time and so we are clear about its’ meaning aren’t we? The word between means the space separating two points or objects. like between Phoenix and Cleveland or the difference
between minus 9 degrees and 65 degrees. But
there was also a paragraph about the usage of the word between. That paragraph said that between should be used when there is a space between two entities. Between is used when the entities are considered as distinct. And that reminded me of why I don’t give sermon titles. There is no “between” memory and hope. I don’t think that there is a space between memory and hope. Our memories feed our hopes, our memories help define and shape our hopes; our hopes comes from experiencing what is and we to imagining what might be. Our real life experiences become our memories and often out of those memories we see another way, perhaps a better way and we hope for a new day. So yes, Martin Luther King, Junior and Barack Obama are two separate and distinct individuals separated in time and space.
But in some ways, the memory of Martin Luther King, Jr., the work and dream of Martin Luther King helped nurture and support and feed and maybe even make possible the leadership of Barack Obama. In some very real ways, Barack Obama is able to be who he is because of Martin Luther King’s pursuit of a dream. And we are able to be who we are because we too have embraced that dream. Some of you may have seen or heard this as it was floating around the internet during the elections.
Rosa sat so Martin could march
Martin marched so Barack could run
Barack ran, so our children can fly.
Memory and hope”¦they meet this week, and we are grateful witness and participants.
–The Rev. Edith Guffey, associate General Minister, preached this sermon, “Between Memory and Hope” on Jan. 18, 2009, at Church of the Red Rocks UCC in Sedona, Arizona.
Edith Guffey: Between Memory and Hope
(UCC News) I have a confession to make. A couple of years ago after being invited year after year to preach somewhere on the Sunday before the Martin Luther King Holiday, I promised myself that I was going to stop accepting invitations to preach on anywhere on the MLK holiday weekend. I understand the importance of this observance, but I felt that it was hard to not to come off as predictable or to strike just the right tone or to really inspire and celebrate. Every time I spoke on this particular Sunday, I ended up feeling pretty inadequate, and I told myself quite frankly who needs that? After all, my role as Associate General Minister is primarily an administrative role. I was not called to this position because of my great preaching abilities.Hardly! I was called to be an administrator and that is the place and role that I am most comfortable with. So, could someone PLEASE explain to me how I ended up in a pulpit again on the Sunday before the MLK Holiday and not just any MLK holiday, but THE one that is the day before this country inaugurates the first African-American President! Talk about a loaded Sunday. I agreed to be here long ago, before anyone knew what the historical importance of his particular Sunday would be. And so the last couple of weeks, I have been asking myself what I could possibly say this morning that might be the least bit original and even slightly inspiring or that would do justice to the occasion. The symbolic nature of what awaits us this week is certainly powerful enough without words from me.
But I also realized that even though anything I say won’t add or hopefully detract from the power of the of week, it may be important for “regular folks” like all of us to take some time to think about and take in the meaning of this week in a way that is more reflective than the sound bites, pictures and political analysis that we’re going to experience over the next several days. I acknowledge that I don’t know what everyone’s political perspective is, and that really isn’t the point here this morning because we will all share this moment in time. And so, I invite you to bear with me and listen in on some of what I have been thinking about the days ahead and what it’s like for me to stand between memory and hope.
Given the context, I’ve been thinking a lot about memory and memories and realizing that memory is a strange thing. I was born in Kansas City, Kansas in 1953, a year before the Brown vs., the Board of Education decision that said that separate educational facilities for blacks and whites were inherently unequal. So I never experienced the schools in a time where separate but equal was legal. I never lived in places where I even saw signs that said colored only or whites only. I’ve never been denied the right to vote as an African American or as a woman; I never had to literally sit in the back of the bus and I have never been denied service in a restaurant or hotel because I am African American. Yes, like many African Americans or maybe most, I have experienced the more subtle forms of racism and discrimination, but I never experienced the overt and horrendous indignities that are part of our nations’ history with African Americans. But curiously, even though I didn’t personally live through these experiences, they are in many ways part of who I am. My grandparents lived in Mississippi and Oklahoma and they and my parents did experience many horrendous indignities. Even though you and I were not personally there, we know about the Little Rock Nine and how they bravely integrated Central High School despite the physical danger and threats to keep them out. Many of us remember seeing Bull Conner and hoses and dogs on our TV sets and we remember the pledges of many that south would never be integrated. Even though we may not have personally experienced or participated in anything even remotely like the harshest and ugliest things we know that are part of the history of African Americans in this country, it is part of our collective history, our national memory if you will and just as I have been shaped by those experiences and memories, my guess is that in some ways you have as well. Memories are powerful, they live on and in some ways we are grateful for that. We want to hold on our memories”¦at least the good ones. We want to remember precious times past with loved ones who are now gone, we want to hold on to those memories of our child’s first birthday or of their first step or of their graduation from kindergarten or high school, we want to hold on to the memory of that first big promotion or that first kiss. While our memories don’t make us who we are, our memories are in some way the collective embodiment of who we are and are reflective of our personal journey and stories.
But we don’t quite know what to do with the collective painful and difficult memories do we? We generally want to just get beyond them, forget them, sweep them under the rug, and get over it. And I totally get that. Who wants to hang on to things that hurt? Who really wants to
live in the past? So the thing about memories,
especially the difficult ones is to find the right venue for them, too ask the right questions about them, to be conscious of how they have shaped us, in good ways and perhaps not so good ways and to know when they are helping us or when they are holding us back. And perhaps at some point maybe we get to a place where those painful memories don’t have quite the same power and they are more informative than they are impactful. The pain of Martin Luther King’s death has receded some, but MLK Day is at least in part about memory. It’s about remembering the man, remembering his work, remembering not only his dream but the dream of so many others as well.
Dreams of freedom from oppression, dreams of equal treatment of all people regardless of the color of ones skin, dreams that the American Dream might be attainable for all, and dreams that we might indeed judge either other by the content of our character rather than the color of our skin. Remembering the legacy of Martin Luther King is important , and I don’t think this memory is one we walk away from. But I also hope that Martin Luther King Day is about not only remembering the dream, but recommitting ourselves to help that dream live in tangible ways. I confess that one reason that I have never really felt totally comfortable celebrating Martin Luther King Day is because it has felt like we recite the I Have a Dream speech one day and then go about business as usual the next. It has always seemed too easy, too automatic. I am not suggesting that we all have to live every day totally consumed by all that is wrong with the world, by all the injustices that have yet to be righted, by what we have not yet achieved. But I wonder especially on MLK Day if I am doing all that I can to make the world a better place. I sometimes wonder what my little corner of the world be like if I more fully lived the commitment that Martin Luther King had to justice, not just for African Americans, but for all people. How much would I have to redefine my priorities, what difference would a renewed commitment make? In some ways, only remembering Martin Luther King is a hallow honor. I think that doing something to help further his dream is what the day calls for. A day of service as the President Elect has called for? Maybe that’s it, but something that indeed engages us actively in keeping the dream alive.
And so tomorrow, we will honor Martin Luther King Jr; looking back on his life. And then on Tuesday, we will look forward to the future and inaugurate the first African-American President in our history; Martin Luther King, representing memory of the civil rights struggle and Barack Obama embodying the dream. Even many who didn’t vote for Barack Obama agree that he is a very compelling figure. He has been able to galvanize millions to hope and dream and imagine in ways that we have not seen in this country for many years. All of that is so important, but the sense in the country that we are embarking on something new, the sense of hope that he as nurtured in this country, the sense of pride that we are moving beyond something is as much about the past as it is about the future, it’s
as much about memory as it is about hope. We
look back at slavery, at the civil rights struggle, at the life of Martin Luther King, Jr.
and we feel that just maybe we are poised for something new. But the reason our hope is so great is because our memories are still so clear.
I have no illusions, I assume that as an African American you expect to hear something like this from me this morning. But this week and this moment is not just about us as African Americans, it is about all Americans and I suggest that it is as important for white Americans as it is for me. I can’t know completely how this feels for many of you, but I imagine that because of our collective history, you also feel like we are turning a page that you yearn for. Not that the whole book is finished by any means. On Wednesday morning, there will still be racial misunderstandings and prejudice and all the problems that exist today, but there will have been a shift, an important change, a statement being made about who you are and who we are as a country that moves us further down the road in a
new way. We hope for new ways of being one
nation under God, we hope for new ways of valuing each person for who they are and the gifts that God has given them. I imagine that many of my Euro American sisters and brothers like you, also feel a renewed sense of pride in who we are as Americans.
As we watch and participate in the events of the next several days I hope we will all remember that Martin Luther King Day and the inauguration of a new President is not just about politics and that’s why it’s so appropriate for persons in pulpits across this country to be reflecting on what this time means to so many. Remember, Martin Luther King Junior was a pastor, the role of the church and of Christians in the civil rights movement can’t be overlooked or forgotten.
The concerns that Martin Luther King was addressing back in the 60s were not just issues of society and culture, they were issues of justice. The same is true for many of the challenges that face this new administration. The call to respect and care for each other as sisters and brothers isn’t just a political or sociological statement. Remember the words of Jesus, “If you love me, feed my sheep.” The greatest commandment is to love the Lord God with all our hearts and minds, but the second one is like it, to love our neighbor as ourselves.
Concerns about racial equality, and poverty and homelessness and war and health care and the marginalization of the voiceless and powerless are moral issues, they are issues that people of faith must be engaged in. If this exciting moment in time is going to be anything other than a short lived, feel good moment, then all of us must be partners in bringing about the change we seek. And that includes those of us who are people of faith as well, we don’t have the luxury of sitting in church on Sundays and not taking our faith with us on Mondays. Our faith is like the touch tone or the chorus in a melody, it’s an essential part of our lives; not compartmentalized on Sundays only. All of us must be engaged in working together for the common good, all of us must remember that another world is possible, but it is possible only if we commit ourselves to making dreams live beyond one day, one week, one month or the first 100 days. There are people hurting and they need systemic change and in the United Church of Christ, we believe that our faith calls us out from Sunday into the challenges of everyday life.
Despite all of the excitement and anticipation of something new, we have to remember that Barack Obama is not the second coming, he is a man, and as other Presidents, he is fallible, he will disappoint us at times and none of us will agree with all of his decisions, actions and leadership. As the church, we must speak truth to power, regardless of who is in power, we can’t be seduced. There is that bumper sticker that says God is not Republican or a Democrat and that is true. Our role as the church and as Christians is to continue to raise our voices for more just systems, for eradication of poverty, for policies that don’t discriminate on the basis of race, gender, physical ability or sexual orientation, to encourage and support and pray for peace. And we are called to do this not because of a particular political perspective but because of our belief in a Stillspeaking God, who is a God of love and a God of justice.
You know when George called and asked me for a sermon title, I told him that I don’t really do sermon titles anymore because generally I end up trying to write a sermon to fit a sermon title that I gave rather than finding a title for a sermon I’ve written. He didn’t press me then but I later for some reason I sent him a title and you have heard me refer to it a couple of times, “Between Memory and Hope.” Sometimes I get a bit obsessive about the exact meaning of a word and so late last night, I went to dictionary.com and looked up the word “between.” It’s a common word, we use it all the time and so we are clear about its’ meaning aren’t we? The word between means the space separating two points or objects. like between Phoenix and Cleveland or the difference
between minus 9 degrees and 65 degrees. But
there was also a paragraph about the usage of the word between. That paragraph said that between should be used when there is a space between two entities. Between is used when the entities are considered as distinct. And that reminded me of why I don’t give sermon titles. There is no “between” memory and hope. I don’t think that there is a space between memory and hope. Our memories feed our hopes, our memories help define and shape our hopes; our hopes comes from experiencing what is and we to imagining what might be. Our real life experiences become our memories and often out of those memories we see another way, perhaps a better way and we hope for a new day. So yes, Martin Luther King, Junior and Barack Obama are two separate and distinct individuals separated in time and space.
But in some ways, the memory of Martin Luther King, Jr., the work and dream of Martin Luther King helped nurture and support and feed and maybe even make possible the leadership of Barack Obama. In some very real ways, Barack Obama is able to be who he is because of Martin Luther King’s pursuit of a dream. And we are able to be who we are because we too have embraced that dream. Some of you may have seen or heard this as it was floating around the internet during the elections.
Rosa sat so Martin could march
Martin marched so Barack could run
Barack ran, so our children can fly.
Memory and hope”¦they meet this week, and we are grateful witness and participants.
–The Rev. Edith Guffey, associate General Minister, preached this sermon, “Between Memory and Hope” on Jan. 18, 2009, at Church of the Red Rocks UCC in Sedona, Arizona.