Finding Momentum

We’re dis­cussing the CR move­ment in His­tory this week, so the issue is fresh in my mind and tonight I run across Daniel Lui’s entry on a MLK Jr. let­ter: Let­ters from a Birm­ing­ham Jail.

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…When I was sud­denly cat­a­pulted into the lead­er­ship of the bus protest in Mont­gomery, Alabama, a few years ago, I felt we would be sup­ported by the white church felt that the white min­is­ters, priests and rab­bis of the South would be among our strongest allies. Instead, some have been out­right oppo­nents, refus­ing to under­stand the free­dom move­ment and mis­rep­re­sent­ing its leader era; an too many oth­ers have been more cau­tious than coura­geous and have remained silent behind the anes­thetiz­ing secu­rity of stained-glass windows.

In spite of my shat­tered dreams, I came to Birm­ing­ham with the hope that the white reli­gious lead­er­ship of this com­mu­nity would see the jus­tice of our cause and, with deep moral con­cern, would serve as the chan­nel through which our just griev­ances could reach the power struc­ture. I had hoped that each of you would under­stand. But again I have been disappointed.

I have heard numer­ous south­ern reli­gious lead­ers admon­ish their wor­shipers to com­ply with a deseg­re­ga­tion deci­sion because it is the law, but I have longed to hear white min­is­ters declare: “Fol­low this decree because inte­gra­tion is morally right and because the Negro is your brother.” In the midst of bla­tant injus­tices inflicted upon the Negro, I have watched white church­men stand on the side­line and mouth pious irrel­e­van­cies and sanc­ti­mo­nious triv­i­al­i­ties. In the midst of a mighty strug­gle to rid our nation of racial and eco­nomic injus­tice, I have heard many min­is­ters say: “Those are social issues, with which the gospel has no real con­cern.” And I have watched many churches com­mit them­selves to a com­pletely other worldly reli­gion which makes a strange, on Bib­li­cal dis­tinc­tion between body and soul, between the sacred and the secular.

I have trav­eled the length and breadth of Alabama, Mis­sis­sippi and all the other south­ern states. On swel­ter­ing sum­mer days and crisp autumn morn­ings I have looked at the South’s beau­ti­ful churches with their lofty spires point­ing heav­en­ward. I have beheld the impres­sive out­lines of her mas­sive religious-education build­ings. Over and over I have found myself ask­ing: “What kind of peo­ple wor­ship here? Who is their God? Where were their voices when the lips of Gov­er­nor Bar­nett dripped with words of inter­po­si­tion and nul­li­fi­ca­tion? Where were they when Gov­er­nor Wall­eye gave a clar­ion call for defi­ance and hatred? Where were their voices of sup­port when bruised and weary Negro men and women decided to rise from the dark dun­geons of com­pla­cency to the bright hills of cre­ative protest?”

Yes, these ques­tions are still in my mind. In deep dis­ap­point­ment I have wept over the lax­ity of the church. But be assured that my tears have been tears of love. There can be no deep dis­ap­point­ment where there is not deep love. Yes, I love the church. How could I do oth­er­wise? l am in the rather unique posi­tion of being the son, the grand­son and the great-grandson of preach­ers. Yes, I see the church as the body of Christ. But, oh! How we have blem­ished and scarred that body through social neglect and through fear of being nonconformists.

There was a time when the church was very pow­er­ful in the time when the early Chris­tians rejoiced at being deemed wor­thy to suf­fer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a ther­mome­ter that recorded the ideas and prin­ci­ples of pop­u­lar opin­ion; it was a ther­mo­stat that trans­formed the mores of soci­ety. When­ever the early Chris­tians entered a town, the peo­ple in power became dis­turbed and imme­di­ately sought to con­vict the Chris­tians for being “dis­turbers of the peace” and “out­side agi­ta­tors“‘ But the Chris­tians pressed on, in the con­vic­tion that they were “a colony of heaven,” called to obey God rather than man. Small in num­ber, they were big in com­mit­ment. They were too God intox­i­cated to be “astro­nom­i­cally intim­i­dated.” By their effort and exam­ple they brought an end to such ancient evils as infan­ti­cide. and glad­i­a­to­r­ial contests.

Things are dif­fer­ent now. So often the con­tem­po­rary church is a weak, inef­fec­tual voice with an uncer­tain sound. So often it is an archde­fender of the sta­tus quo. Par from being dis­turbed by the pres­ence of the church, the power struc­ture of the aver­age com­mu­nity is con­soled by the church’s silent and often even vocal sanc­tion of things as they are…

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There are so many thing and ideas and peo­ple and forces in this world I do not under­stand. Com­pla­cency is one of them, and I feel it in every bone of my body. And I sense the dis­crep­ancy between my apa­thy and the injus­tices of this world and I KNOW that something’s gotta change, something’s gotta give. And I’m sit­ting here and going, God, make me want to move. Make me want to pick up one foot (just one) and go for­ward. I feel like I’m just mouthing the words.

Any­body going to the Invis­i­ble Chil­dren Global Night Com­mute? A group from IV is head­ing over to SF to join their rally. Let me know if you’re down, I’ll hook you up with directions.

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Within the past two weeks, two of my friends have lost two of their friends. Oh Lord…

We were so young / And bril­liantly naive