What was I doing there, wearing my only suit, 24 years old, red-hair, brush-cut and all, walking on the sidewalks of Watertown, New York, May 15, 1960, carrying a picket sign? It wasn't a likely scenario for a young man born in conservative, rural, upstate New York to Republican parents - one who had been to American Legion Boys State, won an Elks Leadership Award, was a Junior Rotarian - a "goody-two shoes," and by all accounts an All-American boy! What was I doing upsetting the calm of a quiet city in the hinterlands of northern New York State?
It was my initial step into "the active life", my first real-life introduction to social action - a field trip for my social ethics class at St. Lawrence University Theological School. Our professor had been teaching about racial conflict, and wisely thought it might be useful for us to experience some at first hand. The national board of directors of the Woolworth Company was meeting at the store in Watertown even as young black students in the South were sitting-in at lunch counters, demanding equal service.
It was exhilarating! The feeling that one was doing something - even a small something - to change the world. That feeling has never left me. I had been launched into social action and there was no turning back. Some of my most exciting and meaningful moments have been spent in such pursuits:
The 1963 March on Washington for Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream Speech;"
His eulogy at the memorial service for my martyred colleague James Reeb in Brown's Chapel, Selma, Alabama;
The summer of 1965 working with Joyce for the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee in the Deep South - Suffolk, Virginia, the first year of the Head Start program and civil rights legislation;
The anti-Vietnam War sit-down on Main Street in downtown Rochester;
The sidewalk worship service when I turned in an anti-war-poster-become check as payment for my phone tax which supported that war;
Testifying before a committee of the U.S. Congress in favor of a moratorium on prison construction;
A trip to the Philippines where I was detained for 16 hours by the military for trying to visit a project of the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee;
A study-trip to Mexico to visit the prosperous Maquiladora factories and their workers, who lived in the poverty-stricken colonias surrounding them.
But these were only the more dramatic moments in the life of a would-be social engineer - one who has visions of changing the world. They are the one-eighth surface of the iceberg of social responsibility, and don't describe all that lies beneath the surface - reading and research, seminars and discussions, phone-calling and photo-copying - with endless and interminable meetings - as numerous as the stars in the sky.
In the great scheme of things it would seem not too much has been accomplished. We social engineers did help pass civil rights legislation, but racism remains rampant; we did help launch the Great Society, but well over 30 million of our citizens live in poverty; we did help end the war in Vietnam, but at frightful cost; we did succeed in making alternatives to incarceration a part of government, but we keep on building jails. Yet I continue to take seriously the "civic duty to annoy"[1] what the Apostle Paul called "the powers and principalities" in the name of justice. Why bother? I ask myself every time I go to a march or a meeting concerning social justice when I'd rather be doing something else. Howard Zinn, author of the acclaimed Peoples' History of the United States and more recently You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train, addressed the issue head-on in the latter book. He was speaking at Kalamazoo, Michigan, one night when he was asked point blank: "Given the depressing news of what is happening in the world, you seem surprisingly optimistic. What give you hope?" Zinn stumbled through an answer, suggesting that "events are already moving in certain deadly directions, and to be neutral means to accept that."[2]
Zinn writes of "(a) friend (who) told me how one day, driving through Boston listening to the latest war news, she thought of the waste of lives, Vietnamese and American, and, overwhelmed by grief and frustration, began to cry and almost lost control of the car."[3] On another occasion Zinn saw on TV the father of Alison Krause, one of the students shot by Ohio National Guardsmen at Kent State in May of 1970. Mr. Krause was "barely able to control his grief, pointing to the fact that President Nixon had referred to student protesters as 'bums.' He cried out, 'My daughter is not a bum!'"[4]
Zinn tells of a lecture during the Gulf War at a community college in Texas City, as the last questioner was recognized: "I am an Iraqi" the man said, to deafening silence. He had become an American citizen and was given an American flag by the Daughters of the Confederacy. "I was very proud. I kept that little flag on my desk at work. Last week I heard on the news that my village in northern Iraq, a place of no military significance, was bombed by American planes. I took the flag from my desk and burned it."[5]
But these were dramatic moments in dramatic times. Most often the work of repairing the world is not nearly as exciting. Last spring, at the annual meeting of the St. Lawrence District, I was talking with social action people at May Memorial Unitarian Universalist Society, who were looking for prophetic figures of social justice to honor with the Samuel F. May Award - Samuel F. May, minister of that church for many years in the 19th century and for whom the church is named - May, the militant abolitionist and reformer. They were having a hard time finding a prophetic figure, a hero or heroine, to honor. Beyond their own Minister Emeritus Nick Cardell, who spent six months in jail protesting the School of the Americas, I suggested William Sloan Coffin, the Yale Chaplain, but he is well into his 70's and retired in New Hampshire.
There is Father Dan Berrigan, with whom I worked at Cornell University in the late 1960's. He was given the Adin Ballou Peace Award at our Salt Lake City General Assembly in June. Dan's mind and conscience are sharp, but I could see how he had aged.
There are, of course, secular figures like Ralph Nader, gadfly to the establishment, but he is hardly charismatic. Frankly, I had a hard time thinking of contemporary activists whom I could name. In retrospect, I wondered, what does it say about our culture that it was so hard to find a figure of heroic proportion? Are we just too fussy? Or cynical? Or are there no heroes and heroines today?
Perhaps it is a mistake to look for individual figures who tower above the times; perhaps it is the small "h" heroes and heroines in every community throughout the world to whom we should be looking. Perhaps we ought to honor them. Perhaps we ought to be among them.
Frankly, I am worried. With the time pressures on our lives, as economic activity absorbs more and more hours, with the booming prosperity which benefits most of us, with the plethora of leisure activities from which we have to choose, I worry about the future of social justice work.
We have a number of good social responsibility programs.
Our School Partnership Program is in its 11th year. Our Iraq and Gulf Affairs Task Force is bringing a nationally recognized speaker to town to raise humanitarian issues about our policy there.
Our Hunger, Housing and Homelessness Task Force is sponsoring a program tonight "to taste our roots" and is heavily involved in these problems.
Our Accessibility Task Force has accomplished much in our church community, and has plans for much more.
The Community Against Racism will sponsor a Jubilee Weekend next year that we might examine racial justice in our midst.
The Gay, Lesbian, Bi-sexual and Transgender Task Force is a pioneering force in our community.
Our UUSC and our Unitarian Universalist United Nations programs connect us with the work of our fellow liberal religionists.
Our two funding panels, the Social Justice Outreach Fund and the Paul Wenger Fund give crucial financial support to local groups in peace and justice work.
Last spring we completed building a playground at School 20, a huge undertaking which involved our whole church community.
It is important that we celebrate what we have done. It is good work and we should be proud. At the same time, however, it's all too tempting to say "been there, done that." I believe our celebration should recognize what we have done as a prelude to what we are yet going to do. What will we tackle next? The world is still in need of repair and who will do it if not us? In a church of our size and tradition we probably ought to be doing twice as much. That is a tall order, for people get tired and new recruits are hard to find.
The difficulty of finding volunteers for this work is a sign of the times. There has been much debate of late about "bowling alone," a phrase symbolizing the withdrawal of Americans into their TV/computer cocoons. While many voluntary associations thrive, most of them are devoted to self-improvement. Religious institutions consume many volunteers, but relatively few of them for social action work. Social service work attracts many, but participation in civic life - in political discourse and action - is on the wane.
The Ayn Rand Institute, in keeping with her philosophy of self-interest as the highest good, has even launched a campaign against volunteerism by offering students a way to fulfill the service required by some schools. Their so-called Anti-Servitude program is designed for students who object to the forced sacrifice of their time, interests and values. These students can fulfill their volunteerism graduation requirements by fighting against volunteerism. The Institute champions reason, rational self-interest and the freedom to pursue one's own happiness. Volunteerism, it contends, is designed to turn Americans into guilt-ridden indentured servants - a program and morality more appropriate to a dictatorship than to a nation founded on independence and freedom.[6] One wonders how wide-spread such attitudes are in this nation hell-bent on getting rich.
That reminds me of the cynic who said: "I'm tired of pretending to care about everything. . . . I didn't create poverty or AIDS. Racism isn't my fault. Why should I worry about it? I refuse to go on pretending. . . . I don't care. I never did and I never will!" His friend thinks to himself, "Militant apathy. The ultimate freedom."[7]
The image of the balcony and the road is indicative. From the balcony, with our multi-media console we can view the world from a safe distance.
We can zero in on human happenings almost anywhere on the globe, but we can also zero out with the turn of a dial or the flick of a switch or the pressing of a key. The road is a much messier place over which we have much less control. No wonder that the balcony has such attraction.
The tenor of the times is reflected in the word on everyone's lips these days: "Whatever." "Whatever" is the most pitiful expression of our age, indicating no sense of conviction or passion, only a sense of diffidence and indifference. It suggests that anything goes, we can do what we please, we don't really know or care.
Or, if we do care, we don't really think of ourselves being in a position to do much of anything to repair the world. One of my colleagues described an intriguing class assignment: name the five most detrimental problems of our society. The expected ones surfaced: poverty, racism, war, sexism, economic imbalance. Next day the class was asked to name the causes of these problems. The villains were, not surprisingly, "politics, institutions, corporations, capitalism, collectivism."
He continued, "It is fascinating to note that not one member of the class listed himself, herself, or a neighbor as a cause of society's problems. Yet who among us can doubt, especially in those moments of severe honesty, that he or she hasn't contributed a goodly share to the general difficulties of the world. This is not to fall back on the old escape clause which argues if everyone is guilty, then no one is guilty. It is not to ignore the evils encouraged by the institutions, structures and elites.
"But the first step towards providing a society which is beneficial to its people and supportive of its citizens is always a thorough examination of ourselves. . . . It would be nice to wake up tomorrow morning and find reformed institutions battling the myriad evils of this planet. This is unlikely, for the simple reason that not enough of us woke up this morning battling the evils within ourselves."[8]
Here my colleague plays on guilt. But guilt, I have discovered, is only marginally effective in motivating people to change behavior. I confess, as a would-be social engineer, that guilt gets me every now and then. However, the more I think about my work in social justice, the more I conclude I act not out so much of guilt but because of the meaning and excitement of the experiences I have. Some climb mountains or do white-water canoing or hang-gliding for excitement. I do not doubt there are thrills there, but equally exciting is committing oneself to a cause that stirs the passions, stimulates the mind, triggers the emotions and helps satisfy our craving for meaningful activity.
I am inspired by the small "h" heroes and heroines. I think back to an elderly woman in our congregation - a retired school teacher. Visiting her one day in a nursing home - she was in her 90's - she was painfully and painstakingly writing a letter to George McGovern to encourage him in his 1972 campaign. Mary Jane Vallance knew the meaning of trying to mend the world, no matter how small her contribution might be.
I am inspired by the capital "H" heroes of our denomination - the late James Luther Adams, Unitarian Universalist theologian and activist, who was a charter member of a group called "Brothers of the Way."
This group covenanted together, and every member was required to adopt some spiritual discipline, to meet together for discussion of religious and social questions, and to participate in the work of one controversial secular organization working for human good in the community. One could, for example, be a member of a library board of trustees only if that group were besieged with calls for censorship. That kind of intentional group is built upon the kind of internal discipline so essential for effective social action. Here is one basis for a "republic of conscience," a highly disciplined and trained group which can be leaven for the loaf whether the loaf be church or society. I would like to see our whole congregation become such an intentional community. In a sense that is one of the missions of the church - to be a republic of conscience where we gather together to consider problems and their solutions, celebrate our small victories, bind up our wounds in defeat, and go forth into the world seeking to repair it. That is my invitation to you as we approach our annual social responsibility congregational meeting October 17. When you come right down to it, there is no one but us to do this work.
Back to Howard Zinn. One passage in his latest book brought me to tears. He wrote: "The reward for participating in a movement for social justice is not the prospect of future victory. It is the exhilaration of standing together with other people, taking risks together, enjoying small triumphs and enduring disheartening setbacks - together. . . These years, when I attend reunions of SNCC (Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee) people, and we sing and talk, everyone says, in various ways, the same thing: how awful they were, those days in the South, in the movement, and how they were the greatest days of our lives."[9]
I feel the same way. These have been the greatest days of my life. I want more of us to have these experiences. The uncommitted life is simply not worth living. We are called to live with conviction in a cynical time. We are called upon to come out of our balconies onto the road where human life is intensely lived. When we do, we'll find these are the best days of our lives.
return to main page