claiming Lincoln, claiming King: speaking with precision in the public sphere

To hear Dr. Kellett read this week’s essay, click here: https://youtu.be/cpp3Gp4TbDg

President Lincoln and Dr. Martin Luther King were quoted often on the floor of the House during the second impeachment of President Trump last week. Members invoked their memories boldly, sure that each legend would back the person now quoting them with such intensity. Collectively, the body, surely without meaning to, reminded students of history of President Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address, given in the midst of a long raging Civil War. Lincoln aptly observed that both sides of the conflict believed their cause was righteous, and both sides invoked God’s help, as they fought for the decent, patriotic, good guys:

“Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained…Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes his aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered—that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has his own purposes.”

Last week, members from both sides tried to be the spokesperson for American heroes, for hardworking, decent, patriotic Americans. Lincoln knew then, and we would be wise to remember now, that anyone pretending to speak for God best do it with a large dose of humility. Indeed, “The Almighty has his own purposes.”  

Seeing the violent assault on the Capitol the Wednesday before last and the absurd posturing in the Capitol last Wednesday, brings to mind the idea that each of us believes our cause, our action, our perspective, is the best one. We think Lincoln would agree with us. We think Dr. King would agree with us. We think God agrees with us. We think we would have handled the Civil War with nobility and nuance. We think we would have marched with King. We look back to history and insert the myth of our own heroism.

Not so fast.

It is difficult to realize you are living through a moment that will later define your generation. We experience life in the present tense, feel conflicted, and do our best to make sense of our allegiance, words and actions. When we look back on big American moments, moral clarity looks easy. In real time though, we struggle to articulate our positions.

I’d like to gently remind us that the number of Americans who denounced slavery as evil was actually quite small. The number of Americans who marched with King, civilly disobeying, breaking the law and sacrificing their own safety, was quite small. (In fact, the number of Americans who didn’t hate him was quite small; he was widely regarded as a trouble maker and a dangerous agitator). Most Americans felt either apathetic or conflicted, and in either case chose to keep their mouths shut. Our African American brothers and sisters led us, in both instances, to demonstrate what it looks like to know a thing is wrong, to articulate why it is wrong, and then to move with haste and courage to end that wrong.

The legacy of Dr. King is rhetorical in that he articulated so much of what plagued us, and named who we might be in the Beloved Community he worked to inhabit. Nearly everyone loves this part of his legacy, but we do so while simultaneously overlooking or ignoring his physical legacy in active, precise resistance. Dr. King is attractive to us from a distance, as we each find parts of our own humanity in the invitations he offered to elevate our higher natures and affirm the dignity of everyone.

However.

This year, as we mark his birth and legacy, we must examine the massive chasm in us between who we think we are and who we demonstrate we are. Most of the white folks I know would have nodded along to the words of Dr. King, but refused to challenge the grip of white supremacy in their own neighborhoods. They would have said that naming or physically challenging white supremacy was “getting political” or “contributing to our divides.” We hear the same today: “Sure, I agree that things got out of hand since the election, that people got too intense…But anyone speaking out about what led to these divides, to this violence, is contributing to the tension. Ignore it, and it will go away.”

Friends, most of us would not have marched with King. It dishonors his legacy to pretend we would have while shunning those who speak specifically against white supremacy and racially motivated violence or fraudulent claims today.

We do not speak with precision about things that make us uncomfortable. Here in Nashville, as we reflect on 2020, we talk specifically about the damage of tornadoes, the isolation of students, and the death toll of Covid. We use no such language to refer to the collective protesting of police bias and brutality, nor the systemic and societal devaluing of Black lives, nor the President’s stoking of xenophobic fears. Instead, we say the “tension from this summer,” or mention our “intense political divides.” If we can’t name it, we can’t address it. If we won’t address it, let’s not pretend we care enough to do anything about it.

King spoke with precision, and then he acted sacrificially to bring about change. As Presidential power transitions this week, I urge us to take the chance to reflect on our speech and our actions. What are you willing to name as wrong, abusive or a lie? How do you describe what occurred in the last 8 months? How do you speak up about what happened in our Capitol in the last 3 weeks? What are you willing to specifically support or disavow? Friends, I ask these questions with fear and trembling. I am asking them of myself, and I think they will bring you needed clarity if you join me in asking them of yourselves.

Many Southerners in the Civil War found slavery to be a fraught and even evil institution, but they would not agree that disruptive action was necessary to end it. What good was their uneasy sentiment, or lack of support, if they refused to take action to stop institutionalized oppression? Many Americans in the Civil Rights Movement felt uneasy about the caste system created by Jim Crow. They felt terrible about the indignities Black folks had to daily face, but they would not agree that strong action was necessary to end it.  Again, what good was their awkward discomfort if they weren’t willing to sacrifice their social acceptance to speak out against evil?

We might not have had the chance to speak up then, but we do now. If you find yourself aligned with the Republican Party’s traditional platform, and voted for Trump, and now feel that you are not aligned with “those people” who rejected election results or brought violence to our capitol, then find the courage to precisely name what you are for and what you are against. Your vague discomfort with what your vote might have been supporting will not save anyone’s life or republic. You have to name and reject it.

I am currently more aligned with Democratic values, and I commit to doing the same there. I will challenge specific behaviors that endanger the lives of others, that destroy the public trust through repeated injustice. As we remember King, and keep hearing about Lincoln, let’s be like the few Americans who went all in to affirm the better angels of our nature, not like the majority who noticed the evil but took no action to stop it.