"A Stone of Hope"

READING

A Network of Mutuality

by Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment

of destiny. 

 

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. 

 

There are some things in our social system to which all of us ought to be

maladjusted. 

 

Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear, only love can do that. 

 

We must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge,

aggression, and retaliation. 

 

The foundation of such a method is love. 

 

Before it is too late, we must narrow the gaping chasm between our proclamations

of peace and our lowly deeds which precipitate and perpetuate war. 

 

One day we must come to see that peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek

but a means by which we arrive at that goal. 

 

We must pursue peaceful ends through peaceful means. 

 

We shall hew out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope. 

 

 

 

SERMON

 

Well, how are we?

 

Grief-stricken,

        as we shall be for a long time. 

Fearful,

        wondering what is likely to happen next.

Angry,

         without knowing exactly who or what to blame.

Haunted,

        by images we cannot forget.

Weary,

        because no amount of rest 

                will restore us

                        to the way we were before.

And no one's sleeping very well anyway.

 

I awoke at 3:00 Wednesday morning

        to hear a single plane,

                        flying directly overhead,

                                sounding loud in the otherwise silent sky. 

My heart began to pound

        as I listened to it hover

                        and then turn away.

Something is wrong, 

        I thought.

I hadn't realized until that moment 

        how frightened I was.

We've all had such moments this week.

By Wednesday I knew that our family members

        in Washington and New York were safely 

                        out of harm's way.

But even that reassuring news

        did not allay my anxiety – 

                        nor should it;

                                for our concern is not just for those we know.

 

Many of you have suffered losses

        or know someone who has.

Many of you have learned throughout the week

        of near-misses, 

                of tragedies that might have been

                        but for a tiny twist of fate.

There was no way to escape the awareness

        of the fragility of life

                and the precariousness of each minute.

"We are caught,"

        Martin Luther King, Jr., once said,

                 "in an inescapable network of mutuality,

                         tied in a single garment of destiny." 

 

Ragged and raw though we are,

        we know that there are some things 

                we can do

                         to help ourselves

                                and also to help others.

One is to come here,

        because being with each other is comforting

                and keeps our spirits up.

Friday night, 

        hundreds of people –

                church members, 

                        friends, neighbors, 

                                and strangers came here

                                        to be with other people

                                                and to pour out our grief together.

It was the same all over the country.

In the midst of overwhelming sorrow,

        the need to gather is powerful and life giving.

It affirms the basic truth of our interdependence –

        our vulnerability and our strength,

                both at the same time.

 

And we can act on our connection to others,

        by seeking ways to help.

What King calls our "network of mutuality"

                not only gives us life

                        but may even define our humanity.

As horrific and wounding as the destruction has been,

        we have also been moved

                by acts of heroism,

                        civic responsibility,

                                and human kindness.

They remind us that 

        the human bond prevails:

                it is stronger than the will to destroy,

                        stronger than hate,

                                stronger than death.

 

Despite the healthy impulse to reach out to others,

        the magnitude of loss 

                and the emotional toll

                        are staggering.

When I was searching for a comforting text

        for our service this week,

                I came upon the words from Martin Luther King, Jr., 

                        that we read together earlier.

The image of the World Trade Center as a pile of rubble

        suddenly surfaced again

                as the "mountain of despair"

                        about which King wrote so poignantly.

Only King's image could match

        the one we saw on TV.

I stopped again to look at the whole sentence:

        "We shall hew out of the mountain of despair,"

                he declared,

                         "a stone of hope."

If King could see us now,

        I thought,

                if he could see our mountain of despair,

                        he would still tell us the same thing:

                                hew out of it

                                        a stone of hope.

It's what we have to do.

Make hope out of despair.

 

King's words comfort me 

        because even though he was the victim of hatred and violence,

                the message of his life

                        is still one of love and peace.

The contrasts are just as stark today.

And the work is the same.

Though we are reeling from the grim events of the week,

        and fearing where they may lead our country

                 in the weeks to come,

                        we still find hope in the healing message

                                 that love and peace 

                                        are more powerful than hate and violence.

 

But where do we begin,

        when we do not know what it will take

                to obtain justice?

Perhaps by insisting that justice is not the same as revenge.

What will it take to make our country

        and the world safe from terrorism?

Will more innocent people –in our country and others –

        have to die?

We will be grappling with these questions

        in the days and weeks to come;

                testing our principles and our fears

                        against forces we do not understand.

 

Our faith can guide us.

It already has.

Our practice of openness and acceptance

        and our tradition of service

                are reflexive for us.

All week long you called our church asking two questions:

        when are we getting together

                and what can we do to help.

 

We have intentionally expressed 

        our affirmation of diversity

                and insistence on tolerance.

We're angry and frightened just like everyone else,

        but we refuse to poison the air

                with the rhetoric of retribution and hate.

This week I saw my friend Nasreen Haroun,

        who represents the Islamic Center of Southern California

                to the Westside Interfaith Council.

I offered her my support

        and our sanctuary as a safe place to meet.

Some of the children who came to church Friday night

        made cards to send in friendship 

                to the children of the Islamic Center.

These are simple gestures,

        but in the connections they sustain,

                they sustain life itself.

 

Friday night, when we gathered to mourn and to reflect

        on the toll the week's events had taken,

                we affirmed that the core values

                        of the religions of the world

                                are not all that different from each other. 

The damage that was done to our country last week

        was not the result of religious faith.

It was the work of nihilists,

        desperate individuals bent on destruction,

                who brought shame and danger to their people

                        as surely as they brought terror and death to ours.

No one should ever mistake a terrorist’s savagery

        for religious faith.

But such mistakes are made

        out of ignorance, fear and hate.

Our faith teaches the importance of overcoming ignorance,

        by learning about the beliefs and life ways 

                of the world’s peoples,

                        because understanding and knowledge

                                promote mutual respect and tolerance.

These are the values that assure justice,

        and the world is not safe without justice.

 

And the world is not safe.

That is our "mountain of despair" also:

        the realization that life will go on,

                but not just as before.

Part of the emotional burden of this week

        is grappling with the sense of the altered reality

                in which we now live.

It's almost too much.

 

How do you hew a stone of hope out of rubble like this?

By accepting that there are no easy answers.

By holding fast to the values that have guided our community

        and applying them to the challenges we now face.

By understanding that the search for truth

        is a way of life,

                not a finished process,

                        and that as the world changes,

                                we may learn and grow by living fully

                                        and honestly, whatever comes next.

 

Yes, I am an uneasy too about what comes next.

I am trying to answer my uneasiness  with my faith.

That is one stone of hope

        I am going to hew.

I hope there will be more.

 

Martin Luther King, Jr. proclaimed,

        "we are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality."

He might have added, 

        and "that is our great hope."

The force that calls us together

        to be with one another

                and to help one another

                        in times of crisis and tragedy

                                is simply that network of mutuality,

                                        our interdependence,

                                                the bond all people share.

Acting on that bond is what it means to be human.

 

Some would destroy that bond along with life itself.

We may never be able to explain why.

But the bond always survives,

        even under the worst and most dehumanizing of human conditions;

                the bond always prevails,

                        in acts of kindness and generosity;

                                the bond always guides us back 

                                        to our best selves,

                                                even when we are lost and confused.

Here is our stone of hope for these sad times:

        to trust our bond with each other,

                to act on it, 

                        to make it real in the way we live our lives.

 

The great example that Martin Luther King gave us from his life

        is that even in the confrontation with hate,

                and the threat of his own annihilation,

                        he trusted the bond of humanity 

                                and the hope that comes from despair.

When I don’t know how I can do it,

        I remember that he did.

And then I think I will,

        and we will,

                and humankind will somehow find a way

                        to live with each other,

                                as unlikely as that may now appear;

                                        and then I know,

                                                I have my stone, 

                                                        my hope,

                                                                and I can go on.