In the Feb. 19 Viewpoints section, we published the first half of Rev. Lydia Mulkey’s recent sermon, “Imagining a better world,” at First United Church of Oak Park where she is an assistant pastor. Because of the crush of election letters, we postponed printing the second half. Here it is:
Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. could have preached “segregation is wrong and needs to stop.” He could have said, “Those people are evil and they’re making our lives harder.” He could have said, “Are you not outraged? What is wrong with you?” All of that would have been true and right, but that’s not what we remember him saying. What did he say that we can all quote in our sleep? What did he say that touched the heart of this nation? He said, “I have a dream.” He said, in essence, “Let me paint you a picture of what we’re going to create together.”
At the time, the dream he shared seemed farfetched. In that moment, there was every indication that it was going to get worse before it got better. It would have made perfect sense to say, “Before we dream up a better nation, we’d better focus on just stopping some of this evil.” It would have made sense to say, “This is going to be a gradual process, so let’s be patient.”
But that is not what he said. In fact, King talked about the “tranquilizing drug of gradualism” in that same speech. He was not having that. He was not going to be patient and take it slow. He said he knew some were “in the midst of trials and tribulations.” He said, “Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the wounds of police brutality.”
What would you say in that moment? If you were asked to speak to that crowd, who were deep in the trenches of oppression and injustice? My instinct might be to comfort. It might be to name evil and call it out. I don’t know. But I know it wouldn’t have been what he said. It takes a prophet who has come close to God to say what he said.
He said, “Even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.” In the midst of active harm, this man said, “I have a dream.” And then he laid it out. A dream that Mississippi would be “an oasis of freedom and justice” (That seemed unlikely). A dream that black children and white children would join hands down in Alabama (Alabama?). A dream that black and white, Jew and gentile, protestant and Catholic, would join hands and sing together, “Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty we are free at last.”
He didn’t dream that up when it was nearly true. He imagined that hoped-for reality even as the exact opposite was happening. As people were beat up and thrown into jail in Mississippi; as dogs were released to attack in Alabama. That is when he dreamed.
Things are not good right now. People are in danger. ICE is prowling around Oak Park. There is an order calling for the elimination of government diversity programs. Military personnel who refused to be vaccinated for the good of society in the midst of a pandemic have been reinstated while those who are trans are in danger of being kicked out. Federal grants were paused that impact education, health care, housing, disaster relief, and more. There is an order to withdraw from the Paris climate agreement and the World Health Organization even as we are dealing with bird flu. A Christian pastor was vilified for preaching mercy while a politician wrongly said that Christianity demands putting “us” before “them.” Billionaires are getting richer and gaining power while the poor get poorer, and the price of necessities goes up. Things are not good right now. My first instinct is to get angry or to cry.
So I think it must be time to dream. I think it’s time to imagine a world made whole. Not because we’re almost there, but because we’re not. It is not enough to complain about what’s wrong with the world. We need to dream. We need to imagine together.
It’s one thing to fight against something. It’s another thing to fight for a world made whole. Both are important, but to just work against what we hate without building what we love would leave us with nothing. The absence of violence is not peace. The absence of greed is not equity. The absence of abuse is not justice.
What can we imagine together? Can you imagine our neighbors who are seeking refuge and asylum being loved and protected? Can you imagine a way to celebrate diversity and inclusion? Can you imagine clean energy? Can you imagine food on every table, health and wholeness free of charge, shared blessings? Can you imagine the world as God dreams it? Can you imagine going out in joy and being led back in peace? Things so good even the mountains seem to sing and the trees seem to applaud God’s goodness? Just imagine!
I hope that together we can cast a vision worth working for, worth showing up for, worth giving generously to. I hope we’ll see this as a holy opportunity. I hope we’ll imagine new ways to steward our resources that lead us toward a world made whole.
Maybe it’s time to dream a new dream.
Maybe it’s time to imagine together.