My Brothers and My Sisters...

"Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. " -No Man Is An Island, John Donne

"And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his lungs the breath of life; and man became a living being." -Genesis 2:7

I am daily thankful for parents who chose to name me Martin. Why? Because my dad, a white man, grew up in Alabama in the 1960's and wanted to name his son after his hero, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. And I've spent most of my adult life trying to live up to that legacy.

And I'd like to tell you about my brothers and sisters Dr. King introduced me to.

Some of them are rioting. Some are protesting. Some are remaining in their homes for safety. Some are policing. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some are white. Some are black. Some live in Baltimore. Some life in Nepal. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some have lots of money. Some have none. Some have nice homes. Some have no homes. Some have nice cars. Some have no cars. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some are men. Some are women. Some are straight. Some are gay. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some have ten thousand things to say and every outlet to be heard. Some have ten thousand things to say and have spent their entire lives feeling the weight of having no voice. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some have access to private schools and college education. Some languish in underfunded public schools with teachers stretched too thin. Some dropped out of school as soon as they could. Some work hard. Some have given up. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some are progressives. Some are conservatives. Some watch Fox News. Some watch CNN. Some want peace. Some want violence. Some want justice. Some want chaos. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some agree with me. Some disagree with me. Some love me. Some hate me. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some feel the burden of oppression. Some feel the freedom of opportunity. Some are living the dream. Some haven't been able to dream for years. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some praise America for its opportunities. Some lament America for its empty promises. Some espouse the power of personal choice. And some feel as though they've never had a choice. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some fight for love. Some fight for hate. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some are angry. Some are joyful. Some are optimistic. Some are cynical. Some are hopeful. Some are hopeless. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some are Christians. Some are Muslims. Some are atheists. Some are Buddhists. Some are Jews. Some aren't sure. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some see the future and the possibilities it holds. Some see the future and fear the failures that seem inevitable. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some have scored 36 on the ACT. Some can't read the newspaper. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some are Bloods. Some are Crips. Some are cops. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some have parents who were with them at every turn, surrounding them in love. Some never knew their parents and raised themselves. Some have one parent who struggled every day simply to feed their children as they grew up themselves. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some are "thugs." Some are "sluts." Some are "saints." Some are "bigots." Some are "nerds." Some are "criminals." But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

Some speak English. Some speak Spanish. Some speak Mandarin. Some speak Arabic. Some can't speak at all. But they are my brothers and they are my sisters.

You are my brother. You are my sister. The breath that God breathed into me to fill my lungs with life is the same breath God breathed into yours. The hands that hold you close are the same hands that hold me close. The love God pours out on you is the same love God pours out on me. The God who forgives your transgressions is the same God who forgives mine. The God who mourns with my pain and hears my cries is the same God who mourns with your pain and hears your cries.

I see race. I see gender. I see sexuality. I see age. I am not blind.

We are different, you and I. But when we learn to see one another as brothers and sisters, when we recognize that the pain of our neighbors is our pain, when we recognize that the image of God reflected in me is the same image reflected in my neighbor is the time that we can begin to move forward. We must begin to recognize that "they" are the same as "us." That's when we can begin to paint a new family portrait.

I'm not there yet. The limits of love are still too vast for me to comprehend, and my cup is still too small for its limitless bounds. But love is not something we can do alone. Love, by its nature, requires people together. It can't be done alone. I beg forgiveness for the ways in which I draw the lines of love too small and the boundaries of grace too thin. I beg forgiveness for the ways I fail to recognize my brothers and my sisters as family. I beg forgiveness for the times I've failed to fight for my brother and the times I've failed to fight for my sister.

May we learn to recognize our brothers and sisters as that. May we learn to see past the labels and titles we stick on people. May we learn to hear the yearnings for justice and peace and love from our brothers and sisters who have felt muted at every turn. May we learn to see through the immediate to the deeper realities our world faces. May we learn to feel our brother's pain and our sister's pain as our own and may our souls yearn for every one of our family to know life and life to the fullest. May we join hands with all of our brothers and sisters to help usher in the fullness of God's kingdom in the world. May we get our hands dirty in the sweat of that work. And may we learn to hear God's voice in the depths of our souls, silent as it may be, in the fire and in the screams and in the groans of our brothers and sisters.

forever unfinished...