A Dangerous Unselfishness
Dr. King's Case For Relevance In Ministry
But I'm going to tell you what my
imagination tells me. It's possible that these men were afraid.
You see, the Jericho road is a dangerous road. I remember when
Mrs. King and I were first in Jerusalem. We rented a car and
drove from Jerusalem down to Jericho. And as soon as we got on
that road, I said to my wife, “I can see why Jesus used this as
a setting for his parable.” It's a winding, meandering road.
It's really conducive for ambushing. You start out in Jerusalem,
which is about 1200 miles, or rather 1200 feet above sea level.
And by the time you get down to Jericho, fifteen or twenty
minutes later, you're about 2200 feet below sea level. That's a
dangerous road. In the day of Jesus it came to be known as the
“Bloody Pass.” And you know, it's possible that the priest and
the Levite looked over that man on the ground and wondered if
the robbers were still around. Or it's possible that they felt
that the man on the ground was merely faking. And he was acting
like he had been robbed and hurt, in order to seize them over
there, lure them there for quick and easy seizure. And so the
first question that the Levite asked was, “If I stop to help
this man, what will happen to me?” But then the Good Samaritan
came by. And he reversed the question: “If I do not stop to help
this man, what will happen to him?”
Upon graduation from Crozer Seminary in 1951, Michael King
received the Plafker Award as outstanding student in his class.
He now enrolled as a graduate student in theology and philosophy
at the School of Theology of Boston University, and he took
courses also at Harvard University. At some undetermined time,
he took the name of the great Protestant Reformer, Martin
Luther.
I won't tell you MLK inspired me to change my name, but his
example, along with those of many other great men of God,
certainly played a role in that decision. I believe people
ultimately make that decision out of need and purpose rather
than vanity or flightiness. I don't talk much about the name
change because, frankly, most people I've met are simply not
mature enough to handle it or deal with it in any constructive
fashion. As a man, as a human being, I spend most of my days
feeling completely unrespected by most everyone I know. The
level of discipline and discipleship among our churches has
fallen to such shockingly low levels that most congregants I
meet are woefully ignorant of the risks they run in treating
ministers disrespectfully. I tend to get insulted, not so much
on my behalf, but on behalf of Him who sent me, and deeply
wounded and saddened by the ignorance of most of our black
church members, who pick and choose which ministers, which
leaders, they will respond to.
Mike King, an ordained minister at age 19, was most certainly
patronized on some level by the congregants until he
serendipitously became the focus of the budding civil rights
movement. At first, a pawn of the leadership, King's erudition
and brilliance quickly won him the respect of the movement
leadership. And, eventually, the respect of the people, who
responded to King not so much because God had sent him as that
he was eloquent, handsome, and had their own leaders following
him.
Which, I suppose, is pretty much what Jesus endured to some
extent. Most people didn't follow Jesus because they believed he
was the Messiah, or that they believed he actually had the
authority to forgive sin. They followed him because he did magic
tricks. He was Benny Hen, healing the sick. Raising the dead,
that sort of thing. It was a lot of, “What's in it for me?” The
bible is filled with examples of people, who had followed Jesus
for quite some time, finally having a personal encounter with
him and realizing they knew nothing about him, his teaching, or
his purpose. King's followers were, likely, more galvanized, but
the movement splintered and ultimately dissipated after King's
death, and the black church in large part has become a minstrel
show, screening scratchy archival footage of their glory days
while doing little and nothing productive in an ever more
cynical society.
The March On Washington: Awaiting Dr. King's speech, marchers cool themselves in the Refelcting Pool. Click To Enlarge.
That's the question before you tonight. Not, “If I stop to help
the sanitation workers, what will happen to all of the hours
that I usually spend in my office every day and every week as a
pastor?” The question is not, “If I stop to help this man in
need, what will happen to me?” “If I do no stop to help the
sanitation workers, what will happen to them?” That's the
question.
Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness. Let us stand
with a greater determination. And let us move on in these
powerful days, these days of challenge to make America what it
ought to be. We have an opportunity to make America a better
nation. And I want to thank God, once more, for allowing me to
be here with you.
I aspire to this man's level of conscience.
To his level of
erudition. But, I'm not sure I have an audience to preach to. I
don't have access to people who could comprehend half of the
imagery and literacy of a master orator like King. A man who
preached with no notes and whose colorful metaphors rise to the
standard of poetry. I tend to scale back, lowering the standard
of oration and removing difficult or complex concepts from my
sermons because of the audience I'm speaking to, nice people
and, for the most part, smart people. But people who have,
nonetheless, been fed a steady diet of lowest common denominator
and who are trapped in a gulag of their own creation. Speak
slowly. Don't use big words. Don't be too hard on them.
I don't have much desire to preach in my own church because
preaching in my own church means living inside someone else's
skin. I'm certainly no MLK, but I think MLK, at age 19, would be
largely ignored at my church and many others like my church. His
effective ministry would not and could not begin until he was
somehow validated in the eyes of our folk. Nice folk. Smart
folk. But possessed of a damming and cloying ignorance that has
somehow convinced them they get to choose who God sends to them;
who is anointed to preach the Gospel and who is not, and which
Gospel is to be preached.
Today, most of my fellow parishioners are going about their
lives. I will be going about my life. Sunday, there was not one
word mentioned about Martin Luther King or the powerful Gospel
he gave his life for. A man who died for the stupid drunks
screaming at the barbecue. For the nice, smart, Big Hat people
who yawn at his legacy. Who perished for people who idolized him
but never quite understood him. In similar fashion to another
man two millennia before.
Carrying On: Excerpts from the Coretta Scott King funeral.
People like this, all over this nation.
have completely
misunderstood Jesus' ministry. Jesus never preached The Gospel
Of Nothing. The Gospel of Big and Colorful Hats. These same
people, nice people, smart people, have gone all over the
country naming streets and avenues after MLK. But Martin Luther
King Jr. Boulevard is, typically, in the worst area of town. The
black area, the run-down area. The dangerous road. Missing the
point altogether: MLK Blvd should be in a white neighborhood, on
a nice street. An integrated street. A street of hope for what
we, as a people, as Americans, could and should become.
But, alas, we can't even get that right. Next Sunday, it will be
business as usual. Lots of singing, lots of celebration, lots of
big, colorful hats. A few more steps on the road to nowhere.
And they were telling me, now it doesn't matter now. It really
doesn't matter what happens now. I left Atlanta this morning,
and as we got started on the plane, there were six of us, the
pilot said over the public address system, “We are sorry for the
delay, but we have Dr. Martin Luther King on the plane. And to
be sure that all of the bags were checked, and to be sure that
nothing would be wrong with the plane, we had to check out
everything carefully. And we've had the plane protected and
guarded all night.”
And then I got into Memphis. And some began to say that threats,
or talk about the threats that were out. What would happen to me
from some of our sick white brothers?
Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some
difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because
I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I
would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm
not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And
He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over.
And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you.
But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to
the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about
anything. I'm not fearing any man.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
Happy birthday, Martin. I know who you are now. I pray someday
we all will.
Christopher J. Priest
15 January 2002
editor@praisenet.org
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