Call to Worship: Let us ready ourselves for this hour of worship with these words from the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King. Jr.

We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied to a single garment of destiny.

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

There are some things in our social system to which all of us ought to be maladjusted.

Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear, only love can do that.

We must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation.

The foundation of such a method is love.

Before it is too late, we must narrow the gaping chasm between our proclamations of peace and our lowly deeds which precipitate and perpetuate war.

One day we must come to see that peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek but a means by which we arrive at that goal.

We must pursue peaceful ends through peaceful means.

We shall hew out of a mountain of despair, a stone of hope.

Chalice Lighting
The Great Turning by Lisa Garcia-Sampson

First Reading
Our first reading today is Psalm 46, one of Rev. Dr. King’s favorite and often quoted pieces of scripture.

Pastoral Prayer

Spirit of life, God we know by many names, hear our prayers this morning, as we gather in worship to honor the life of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King with reverence for the past, hope for the future and a steadfast commitment to doing justice in the present

May we remember all those brave people throughout history who have put their bodies on the line for love and freedom, who have stood between the marginalized and the powers of empire in the name of all that is holy. May their memory inspire us to respond to racism, injustice, violence, and oppression with tenacity and a bold resolve.

May we remember the fierce faith of Dr. King and so many of his compatriots. May the songs, scripture, and prayers that strengthened them remind us there is strength to be found in the spiritual life. May they inspire us to deepen our own faith and look to this community for wisdom, guidance, and sustenance. May they remind us that we do not need to cede the language of religion and morality to those who would use it only to exclude and oppress.

And may we remember the humanity of Dr. King and the civil rights leaders who marched alongside him. May we remember that they were people with fears, struggles, questions and doubts. May their memory remind us that perfection and certainty are not prerequisites for courage and commitment. May we never doubt that there is a place for us in this work of building beloved community—in this long march towards liberation.

May Dr. King’s memory be a blessing and may we endeavor to honor him through our own living—loving mercy, doing justice and walking humbly in the light of the sacred.

Amen.

Second Reading:

Excerpt from “Where Do We Go From Here?”

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
16 August 1967
Atlanta, Georgia

’And so we still have a long, long way to go before we reach the promised land of freedom. Yes, we have left the dusty soils of Egypt, and we have crossed a Red Sea that had for years been hardened by a long and piercing winter of massive resistance, but before we reach the majestic shores of the promised land, there will still be gigantic mountains of opposition ahead and prodigious hilltops of injustice. We still need some Paul Revere of conscience to alert every hamlet and every village of America that revolution is still at hand. Yes, we need a chart; we need a compass; indeed, we need some North Star to guide us into a future shrouded with impenetrable uncertainties….

If you will let me be a preacher just a little bit. One day, one night, a juror came to Jesus and he wanted to know what he could do to be saved. Jesus didn’t get bogged down on the kind of isolated approach of what you shouldn’t doJesus didn’t say, “Now Nicodemus, you must stop lying.” He didn’t say, “Nicodemus, now you must not commit adultery…”He said something altogether different, because Jesus realized something basic: that if a man will lie, he will steal. And if a man will steal, he will kill. So instead of just getting bogged down on one thing, Jesus looked at him and said, “Nicodemus, you must be born again.”

In other words, “Your whole structure must be changed.” A nation that will keep people in slavery for 244 years will “thingify” them and make them things. And therefore, they will exploit them and poor people generally economically. And a nation that will exploit economically will have to have foreign investments and everything else, and it will have to use its military might to protect them. All of these problems are tied together.

What I’m saying today is that we must go from this convention and say, “America, you must be born again!”"‘

Sermon:

Last week, as I was putting the final touches on my sermon, I saw the now widely circulated video of Bishop Robert Hirschfeld of the Episcopal Church of New Hampshire speaking at a rally. He invoked the memory of clergy who had put their bodies on the line to protect the most vulnerable, including seminary student and Civil Rights activist Jonathan Daniels, who was killed in 1965 by an Alabama sheriff’s deputy.

Hirschfeld went on to say, “I have told the clergy of the Episcopal diocese of New Hampshire that we may be entering into that same witness. And I’ve asked them to get their affairs in order, to make sure they have their wills written, because it may be that now is no longer the time for statements, but for us with our bodies, to stand between the powers of this world and the most vulnerable.”

You can be sure I went back and made some edits to my sermon after hearing that.

The seminary student Hirschfield mentioned, Jonathan Daniels, was one of the many religious leaders who followed Martin Luther King Jr.’s call for clergy of conscience to join him in Selma, Alabama in 1965. The same call that one of my heroes, Unitarian minister James Reeb, heard and followed, costing him his life. Reeb was killed leaving dinner at an integrated restaurant two days after Bloody Sunday, where protestors were violently attacked by state troopers trying to cross the Edmund Petis bridge. Daniels survived that violent weekend in Selma, but returned to Alabama later that summer to resume his work integrating churches and registering voters. He was arrested with a group of protesters and after release, was going to get a cold drink with 3 others who had been arrested. The group was confronted at the store entrance by a Sheriff's deputy who drew his gun and aimed it at 17 year old activist Ruby Sales. Daniel knocked Sales out of the line of fire and took the full force of the shot himself. King called the act, "one of the most heroic Christian deeds of which I have heard in my entire ministry”

My original theme for the month of January was “discernment.” I planned to preach a series of new years sermons on inner work and self-reflection. That was before ICE officers began their campaign of terror in Minneapolis. So last week I shifted course, thinking “discernment” would have to wait for another month. But as I reflected on the life of Dr. King and listened to Bishop Hirschfield’s call to his clergy, as I examined my own role in the fight for justice and questioned what risks I would be willing to take, I knew I needed to make time for discernment and self-reflection. And I imagine that’s true for many of you. The social and political contexts of the sermons might have changed but the topic is no less relevant.

Because how we show up in this moment, not just as clergy but as people of faith, as Unitarian Universalists is no simple question. Like me, I imagine many of you are wondering, When do we take to the streets and when do we focus on the ballot box? When do we stay informed and when do we take a break from doom scrolling? What risks are we willing to take for the values we believe in? When do we put our bodies on the line and when do we serve the movement by caring for ourselves? When do we put all our energy into the immediate crisis and when do we plan for the long haul? What are we even planning for in the long haul? What would victory look like? We are in a time of discernment- as individuals, as a community and as a nation.

Our second reading for today comes from King’s 1967 speech titled “Where Do We Go From Here?” echoing the themes of his last book before his assassination, “Where Do We Go From Here? Community or Chaos?” The question seems on face value, rhetorical, right? Obviously we choose community. We hear quotes about King’s notion of “beloved community all the time.

But for King, this question wasn’t rhetorical. It was a real question, a live question, with real wrestlings and choices. The book came at a critical juncture in the Civil Rights movement. The Civil Rights Act and Voting Rights Act had been passed and movement leaders were asking “What’s Next?” The war in Vietnam was raging, economic inequality was staggering, and backlash to the dismantling of Jim Crow was violently present. The assassination of Malcom X had ignited the Black Power movement and there was pushback to King’s comparatively incrementalist approach.

“Where do we go from here?” was not at all clear. And chaos was a real choice. Anarchy is a particular political strategy. We’ve gotten so used to praising the non-violent resistance of King and Gandhi that we think it’s a universal norm, but it was and is also a particular political strategy. There were people who were arguing, not unconvincingly, for violence as the only way to truly and finally upend the white supremacy that was endemic in the nation, woven into the country’s fabric. After all, it took a violent and deadly war to finally end slavery.

In this speech and in his book, King makes a renewed moral and strategic argument for non-violence, because it wasn’t a given. And he didn’t just double down on it thoughtlessly. Even as someone who ultimately chose community over chaos, you can hear his evolution—the influence this debate had on his thinking in the excerpt Marlene read earlier, with allusions to the revolutionary war and lines like, “The whole structure must be changed,” “America must be born again.” It’s not chaos exactly, but it’s also not incrementalism.

My point is, “Where do We Go From Here?” was not rhetorical. It was a real question, with varied choices. And to answer it, King went away for a period of discernment, prayer and reflection. He rented a house with no telephone in Jamaica and stayed there for two months, thinking, praying, writing. It was the longest period of seclusion in his adult life, the longest time he spent away from the movement. It was from that period that he emerged with a renewed commitment to non-violence and a new understanding of the ways racism was tied up with economic exploitation and militarism. It was that period of discernment that ignited King’s commitment to speaking out against the Vietnam War and arguing for a universal basic income.

I lift up this piece of King’s life today because I think, “Where do we go from here?” is still a live question and we should treat it as such. We too are living at a crucial turning point in the history of our nation. It feels like so much is at stake, from the physical safety of our neighbors to the continued existence of our democracy. We are all watching in horror as ICE exercises seemingly unchecked power in Minneapolis, violently confronting protestors, pulling people from cars, and imposing a reign of terror on the city. NATO troops are mobilizing in response to Trump's threats to take over Greenland. And we have a President who is “joking” about cancelling elections while talking about invoking the insurrection act. We are at a turning point. What comes next has not yet been decided and I don’t think we should limit our imagination of what’s possible. I don’t think we should rush to answer the question either with fatalistic cynicism or unquestioning optimism that everything will turn out fine in the end. It’s a question that deserves to be taken seriously.

And how we are called to respond in this moment, as individuals and as a church is also a real question that deserves to be taken seriously, with real choices to discern. It’s easy to say, “we’re called to stand up for justice, we’re called to love our neighbor, we’re called to support immigrants and promote democracy” Okay, how? To what end? What does that actually look like? What does our faith actually call us to do in this pivotal moment? And how are we uniquely equipped to respond?

And now I’m going to share some upcoming events. And we’re all going to think that it interrupts the flow of the sermon. Good preaching doesn’t usually involve a lot of dates and times. But the work of discernment is work. It isn’t just rhetoric. It happens with actual people, in community, at real times in physical places, making coffee and stacking chairs and coming together to ask questions and make space for wondering and discovering.

First, I encourage you to weigh in on crafting our church’s mission and vision. There’s a QR code in your order of service to a form with some questions about who we are as a church and how we want to impact the world around us.

Second, on February 4th at 7:00 here at church, we’re going to have a facilitated conversation about the future of our social justice organizing and work to resist fascist ideology and authoritarian policies. We’ll talk about what issues we care about most, how we want to impact them, and what gifts and tools we have here that we can use to that end. You’re all welcome, no prior experience with social justice organizing necessary.

And finally, On March 8th, Theo is organizing a group discussion of the UU Common Read this year, Social Change Now, by Deepa Iyer, which explores the idea of Social Change Ecosystems—groups or organizations (like a church for example) with shared values, who want to create change. Iyer identifies ten different roles that people can play within that ecosystem, including visionaries, disruptors, or frontline responders. The book helps you identify what role you might be called to play.

It feels important to lift up these events on this Sunday, because we can quote King speeches all day long, but at the end of the day, if we aren’t showing up to ask the same questions he was asking, to figure out how we’re called to carry on his work practically, it’s all just for show.

So this year, in honor of MLK day, I think it would serve us well to view King not just as a symbol but as a real person. A person of both faith and doubt, conviction and curiosity. Someone who wrestled, really wrestled with hard questions for which there was no easy answer. Someone who studied and prayed to discern how he was called to show up. Someone who understood that there was so much still left undecided. Someone who knew, “Were Do We Go From Here” was an open and urgent question.

Because it still is.

In her book ‘After the Good News: Progressive Faith Beyond Optimism,” UU minister Nancy MacDonald Ladd writes, “Like faith, hope is the exact opposite of certainty. It does not presume an outcome for good or for ill. It lies in the waiting moment when the tug from both directions is not yet fully resolved and when a great many things are still possible. It moves in the humble spaces that open when we allow ourselves to be uncertain and thus not fully self-contained. It is the possibility, though not the inevitability, of a better way.”

The bad news is that so much is still unresolved. A better way is not inevitable. The good news is that so much is still unresolved. A better way is possible.

We get to decide, “Where do we go from here?” And we get to decide what our role is in getting there. So this Martin Luther King day, let’s honor his legacy, let’s lean in to hope, by committing to the work of figuring it out.

May it be so.
May we make it so.
Amen.