If you drive down Mulberry Street in Memphis, Tennessee, you are bound to arrive at the Lorraine Motel. You can easily overlook this modest building of the 1960’s. The Lorraine Motel is a low-slung 2 story yellow brick building with faded turquoise trim. It looks like all the other budget motels that filled the American landscape in the mid-twentieth century. In fact, the Lorraine Motel looks frozen in time.
Two cars are parked out front: a 1959 Dodge and a 1968 Cadillac. A plastic sign with crooked letters announces “family reunions welcome.” It all looks a little shabby and down at the heels. But then you see the wreath. A big, black wreath hangs on the second floor balcony outside room 306. It marks the spot where the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated on April 4, 1968.
Dr. King came to Memphis to support the garbage workers strike in one of the South’s largest racially segregated cities. He came against all advice as others feared for his safety. He checked into the Lorraine Motel because it was one of the few open to African Americans in the city of Memphis. It was a watering hole for Black musicians such as Louis Armstrong, Sarah Vaughan, and Nat Cole when they performed on Beale Street.
The Lorraine was also well known to leaders of the Civil Rights Movement. Dr. King was welcome there. On the night before he died, he seemed to anticipate his death when he addressed a crowd at the Memphis Mason Temple. He said, “We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountain top. I won't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life.” He was shot the next day as he stood on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel. Martin Luther King, Jr. was 39 years old.
This week our nation remembers Dr. King. We celebrate his life and legacy as a leader for justice and equality in our country. In the Church we honor him as one of our own, a minister of the Gospel and witness to Jesus Christ. He called us to stand for justice and also called the white church to task when we failed to do so. You have heard a portion of his letter to the churches as our epistle reading this morning. You can also find the entire text of LETTER FROM BIRMINGHAM JAIL on the Trinity Church website. I commend it to you.
As we recall the work of Martin Luther King, Jr. we are catapulted back in time to racial segregation. It seems unbelievable now that people were barred from a lunch counter or public restroom because of the color of their skin. Who can imagine 2 water fountains side by side, one designated for whites, one labeled for “coloreds?” It seems incredible. Or can you imagine the Boston police turning fire hoses on men, women and children who assemble peacefully in Copley Square today?
Segregation and discrimination seem like the nightmares of our past. But today we must also confess their legacy as the bad dreams of the present. While the visible barriers of legal segregation may be gone, the realities of racial inequality continue to be institutionalized in our country. People of Color in the United States continue to suffer disproportionately from poverty, violence, chronic health problems and shortened life expectancy. Our education system is increasingly polarized by race and ethnic origin.
The incarceration rates in our society offer chilling evidence of racial inequality. I do not normally give out statistics from the pulpit, but I must share these figures with you. A 2004 study examined the number and race of inmates in American prisons for every 100,000 people in the general population. The analysis revealed there are 393 white inmates in prison per 100,000 Americans, 957 Latino inmates, and 2,531 African Americans in prison per 100,000 people in the United States. The minorities in this country are now the majority in our prisons. It is a gross disparity. This reality has led the Children’s Defense Fund to launch a study of the path from cradle to prison in African American neighborhoods. Racism remains an American tragedy, but it is not always as visible as it was 50 years ago. Now it may be locked up and out of sight.
This week we will honor the memory of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in many ways. There will be speeches and parades down boulevards that bear his name. These streets often have boarded up windows and crack houses in poor neighborhoods around the country. There will be public displays of understanding and unity between the races for a day or two. But we in the Church are led to a deeper commitment, a more sustained witness to the realities of inequality in American society. Our own preacher, Dr. King reminds us that “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
We are charged with a ministry of justice and reconciliation, 365 days a year. Through Christ we are called to live in right relationship with God and our neighbors, all of our neighbors. This is our life’s work.
Our call is not based on a vague notion of doing good; it is rooted in our faith that in Christ all things are made new. He changed water into wine at a wedding feast in Cana, which sounds amazing. But the real miracle happens when Christ changes us, when our hearts and minds are transformed and we love our neighbor as ourselves. That is truly amazing.
John’s gospel presents the account of the miracle at Cana as the first event in Jesus’ public life. It is not a story that is meant to dazzle us. It is meant to put us on notice that God has begun something new in the life and ministry of Jesus. All of the religious ceremonies in Jesus’ culture paled in comparison to God’s presence with humanity in Jesus. Transformation of water into wine is the opening act of a deeper transformation that God is working in us. Now we become agents of change in God’s world as we live out our faith in Christ, day in and day out.
And so our God-given work for justice and racial equality will continue throughout 2007.The end is not in sight. The words of Nelson Mandela, the freedom fighter and former president of South Africa, inform our work. In his book, LONG WALK TO FREEDOM, Mandela writes:
“I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended.”
With freedom come responsibilities. With this truth in mind today, we honor the life and witness of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and we pray for healing among the races in our time.
If you visit the Lorraine Motel today, you will also be visiting the National Civil Rights Museum. And sooner or later you will find yourself in room 306. It has been left just as Martin Luther King, Jr. left it when he departed this life nearly 39 years ago. The beds are rumpled with covers in disarray from hurried meetings. Room service trays hold the scraps and dishes of hastily consumed meals. It looks as if the occupant left the room only moments ago. He just stepped out on the balcony for a little fresh air in the Memphis spring. Room 306 displays the ordinary things of an extraordinary life, a life interrupted. It proclaims a great work that remains unfinished. It is our work, our calling now.
And so I leave you with the vision that Martin gave to the Church in Birmingham. He concluded his letter with these words:
“Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear-drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty.”
Amen. | 
