Black History Month Reflection

U.S. National Archives and Records Administration

Karen and I like to learn something every year during Black History Month. Often, we highlight great leaders in the African American community. A short list with names such as Mary McLeod Bethune, Thurgood Marshall, Martin Luther King Jr., George Washington Carver, Marian Anderson, Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, Lorraine Hansberry, Duke Ellington, James Baldwin, and Jackie Robinson demonstrates the impact such persons have had in every area of our society including government, civil rights, science, arts, sports and beyond.

This year I reviewed photographs of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, held in 1963 on the National Mall in Washington, D.C. This is the gathering where Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King offered his great “I Have a Dream Speech.” Gathered on the platform at The Lincoln Memorial, you can see the faces of men and women who are now famous. Focus instead on the crowd. I enlarged the photographs to see the expressions of the people whose ordinary stories were rarely detailed by reporters or historians. Most came to the March on Washington by train, bus or car. It is estimated that there were over 250,000 persons assembled. Some endured great discomfort because they were not able to afford accommodations. They had to make do for basic necessities including food or rest. They came because their families and friends had experienced societal injustice for generations. They knew hardship. They knew unfairness. They knew what it felt like to have people in power not only ignore their plight but create laws and social practices that denied them essential elements of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. They came to end segregation of education and public services. They came because they were weary of jobs that paid little or were structured to keep them in debt. This hard history must be known if we are to fully appreciate the richness, strength, and spiritual rigor of those who collectively comprise what is celebrated during Black History Month.

Look at the faces and you will see the young woman in her dress and hat carrying a placard to end school segregation. The old man smiling as he looks at the crowd. The young man with sunglasses and a loose tie, his gaze fixed on the platform. Two shorter women are obstructed by the taller people in front of them. Thousands of ordinary African American people gathered. Because they gathered, the leaders on the platform—those whose lives are now found in biographies and articles—had power. They could speak to the issues that faced the nation. Also present, sprinkled lightly in that crowd, are white faces. The out of focus old white guy in the back with his thick glasses and balding head. I wonder how he got there. The white guy in the front who laughs as he locks arms with the other men is in on a joke now forgotten.

When we examine the faces of people in the crowds of such historical events, we can consider the stories of everyday people and everyday courage.

Right now, there is a lot of change in America. Changes that typically take years are happening in hours. For some, these changes include the loss of jobs and the loss of services
provided by the government. A bishop in the African Methodist Episcopal Church was late for a meeting this week. “Sorry,” he said, “we depend on a grant from the government that supplies food that we distribute to people who are poor. I just learned that the money has been cut, and the food will not be provided next week, and we have to figure that out.”

A pastor contacted me to say that a person with disabilities in his church fears the loss of his supplemented housing. A friend shared that his wife lost her job in the federal government. Clergy whose congregations include immigrants are managing a network of relationships that often include undocumented persons who either attend the church, are engaged in its ministry, or who are family members or friends of those who attend. Nonprofit groups who help people become U.S. citizens through legal means seek funding as their grants have been terminated.

The most common responses I hear when people talk about all that is in the news is fatigue and dismay. People express feelings of incapacity and hopelessness. People say, “It makes me tired.” “I just can’t look at the news.” “I’m just so anxious all the time.”

Such statements are understandable. This is why we would all be wise to look at the faces in the crowds of events like the March on Washington during Black History Month. These people were in family systems that endured violence and structural injustice for generations. Their lives were hard because they lived in a society that made life hard for them. Everything from education to health care was inaccessible to the majority. Wages were low and workers unprotected. Stigma, slurs, violence, and the threat of violence had to be negotiated even while walking on a public street in broad daylight.

They knew what it was to be tired and exhausted by daily life, and more so by the way American society was arranged.

But there they are, in the photos. They showed up. Well dressed. Smiling. A part of something bigger than themselves. Doing something that mattered. Others chose to stay home and sit in the hard seat of hopelessness. But these came to that historic day with their frugal belief that something different could happen, that new life was possible. Many, if not most, were motivated by their Christian faith. They enjoyed the presence of God in their lives. They were disciples of Jesus Christ. They sang songs to remind them of the hope of the Lord. They sang,
“Up above my head, I hear music in the air
Up above my head, there's a melody so bright and fair
I can hear when I'm all alone
Even in those times I feel all hope is gone
Up above my head, I hear joy bells ringing
Up above my head I hear angels singing
There must be a God somewhere.”

It has been observed that it is those with the strongest vision of heaven who possess the greatest foresight of God’s will for love and justice on earth. This is why their faith in Christ was essential. People motivated by discipleship to Jesus Christ were the leaven in the loaf of that great assembly. They were the perfume that imbued the often-stale air of this world with floral notes. They trusted that God was fully present, with them, as they stood on the mall that day.

In this time, all who feel weary would be wise to learn from the ongoing faith and action of people of color who have felt the pain of inequity and injustice more times than anyone can number. Notice, when you look at those faces, the quiet strength of people assembled to make a difference. See the athleticism of spirit of those who refused to believe that no difference could be made. They did something because doing something is always a better alternative to doing nothing. For those who were Christians, the something they offered was motivated by their commitment to the Lordship of Jesus Christ and by the belief that they were:
“Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land.”

May we be true to God and our native land as the Holy Spirit leads us as well.