On Teaching Tolerance
Rev. Holly Baylies
Martin Luther King Sunday
UU Church of Wakefield
January 16, 2005

Many of you of my generation may remember back to your elementary school days. Days that were free from the worries of the world. Days when our greatest challenge was to do what we were told to do, or at the very least not to get caught if we disobeyed. To disagree with anyone over the age of 15, was always a losing battle for we were just kids.  Hey, what did we know, anyway?

Every morning we said the Pledge of Allegiance and read from the Bible, at least one psalm if not two. Every month we had a civil defense drill and that was the first time I remember getting really angry in school. Not because of the disruption; we all looked forward to anything that would break up the rigid schedule, but because it was a kind of comedy routine. Of course being warned of something bad about to happen is wise, scrambling under a wooden desk tucked up like a chicken in an egg was truly ridiculous, even to me who was just a kid. We all knew about the BOMB and what it did. The memorial edition of Life Magazine showed us that. But hiding under a puny wooden desk? That would keep us safe? Excuse me? Besides, my teacher Mrs. Cook was a bit hefty and her reaction was always the same. She’d jump straight up in the air and flap her arms like a chicken, let out one startled squeak and dive for her desk, but she never quite fit and her caboose would stick out, kind of like a Saint Bernard hiding in a bird house!  Her antics seldom preserved the seriousness of what we were doing as we were all smothering ourselves in our shirtsleeves and petticoats, trying not to laugh.

Well, after the 3rd or 4th drill of year I finally got up the courage to raise my hand and told the teacher just what I thought about the absurdity of our Air Raid drills and wondered out loud how that would protect us. 

For my efforts, I spent the rest of the morning in the corner, punished for my insolence. So from that day on I tolerated the exercise and quietly fumed under my desk, the humor was gone… knowing that should a bomb hit the school I would be dead as a door nail. How ironic, I thought, to be crushed by my desk, the very fixture that was intended to save my life! I never mentioned what happened to my parents. What went on in school stayed in school especially since I had already been punished, no chance risking another. 

My discomfort around the Air Raid incident began to clarify itself even more to me with the onset of my second indelible childhood memory that came from a photograph in Life Magazine. It was taken in a southern city park in either Memphis Tenn. Or in Birmingham Alabama. There were two water fountains in the photograph plumbed side by side to the same brick wall. One had a sign over it that said “WHITES” the second also had a sign, marked “COLORED.” There was along line of children trailing behind the “COLORED” drinking fountain. No one was in line at the fountain marked “WHITES.”

At the very end of the article that followed the photo was a quote in large type and I assume it was in response to a question like, “Why aren’t you using the empty fountain? The response read, “ CAUSE, MAM, WE DO WHAT WEE’S TOLD.”  They were tolerating a situation that should not be happening in a way just like I did when I asked a simple question and was punished.

That photo really angered me and stayed with me though, subtle but there, nagging in the back of my mind and I never spoke of it until much later, when I had an adult voice that mattered and began to question my own experience of what tolerance really meant.

I grew up in the Unitarian Universalist Church, as did most of my traceable ancestors. In church we spoke often of tolerance and how important it was.  I knew of the goodness that acts of tolerance claimed, like smiling at my new Indian neighbor, or walking home with the overweight kid that was chastised for not being able to run a mile on the track in gym class. But I was doing it alone and these folks deserved more than I could do. I seldom shared my feelings about what was happening. It seemed as if there should be others who felt the same way I did. My church talked about tolerance all the time but it was so passive that I began to realize that there are insidious dangers that simply calling oneself tolerant can evoke. 

Richard Vernon and Samuel DeSelva in their essay Justifying Tolerance said; “There is something about pure tolerance that seems to undermine, rather than strengthen the, the societal notion of democracy. And yet, tolerance was developed for democracy’s good. But this hope seems not to have worked out in practice.” His next statement really struck home and I quote, “The language of tolerance is a language of power relations. Who shall be tolerated is, in the last analysis, a choice of those in power.” 

Their words seemed to identify what had been bothering me all of these years. For most of our early lessons in tolerance are generally passive. As children, we simply learned not to comment, make fun of anyone, or criticize those who do not share our skin color, sexual orientation, religion or politics, size, social standing or income. Later, we simply distanced ourselves from those who would chastise or make fun of us. I then asked myself at what point in time did our passivity become that of an accidental oppression? 

As adults, we often hesitate to speak out afraid that our questions, our passion and or our anger might cost us a friend, or a cause, for we have pledged between us not to undermine another’s’ opinion. Fear of that fact as a denomination, as a majority of caring, loving people, may have kept us a bit too silent too long.

In this context, our diversity of thought and opinion as Unitarian Universalists is the backbone that our faith was built upon, the goal we have always worked toward, but what happens when that goal becomes foggy and unclear because we believe that we can’t agree on anything really important, or stew in silence because we are afraid of being labeled intolerant?  I guess what I am trying to say is avoidance of critical human issues through fear of judgment, is not tolerance; it is sadly a imposed apathy which we must identify when it exists and be cautious about perpetuating.

We may have been asking ourselves the wrong questions. Shying away from arguing about the massive general umbrella of political opinion is not what our principles meant when we agreed to honor the worth and dignity of every human being. It meant that we look beyond the faces of political leadership and party politics and focus on the conditions of living that require our intervention, that channel our anger and promote a just human response rather than a particular party line.

I have no idea whether Martin Luther King Jr. was a Republican or a Democrat. His platform was not based in political language, it was a purely a real human agenda, one that mandated change in a way that dignified our relationships with one another, that gave the citizens of this country a means to stop tolerating the injustices that the leadership of offending communities imposed upon its people. 

The most interesting part of Martin Luther King Jr.’s life is that his determination to create change came from a very deep seated and seething anger. He had a choice to make.

He could attack the racism and bigotry all around him with a warlike vindictive stance which he knew would only serve to condemn his plea for change; OR he could put up with the injustice and the inhumane impositions inflicted on his community, or he could step out of his anger and gather those of like minds, which were once quietly dormant, by the thousands and walk into the heart of America with a message so profound that it gave others permission to join him in such numbers that the politicians could no longer ignore his cry. Rooted from his anger, Martin Luther King Jr. drowned out the voices of bigotry with a love for human justice that could not be ignored. It was a model of change that we cannot afford to forget.

In King’s memory, the Southern Law project, which we have asked for a special collection this morning to support their work, has built their program around teaching tolerance. It is a visible and viable means for both adults and children to learn how to intervene effectively together, when an injustice is seen or known. Our church school program has been using a portion of their curriculum to help our kids understand how important and critical our voices, as adults and children truly are. Kids are facing a great deal today often alone that we are often unaware of. Peer pressure is probably the most significant factor in their lives and the more we know and about what they are experiencing, the sooner we can unite with them to put a stop to so much of the inhumane treatment that exists in their daily lives. 

Martin Luther King Jr. taught us a great lesson in tolerance by challenging the passivity that allowed a horrible injustice to prevail for so long. He taught us that the definition of true tolerance, of advocating for human rights and freedoms asks us to outright define what we will not tolerate. He looked beyond politics and offered a forum for basic human rights that the silent majority, in great numbers could relate to.

Any act of tolerance absolutely professes, demands a respect for the basic human rights of others and that’s exactly my point.

This is an age of great change and challenge one in which we are consumed by the larger political arena and spend more time struggling with whether or not to inflict our political leanings upon one another, but then pull back in fear of stepping on toes or undermining the rights of others. We might prefer to  take a good look at ourselves and how we define tolerance as a faith. Is it based upon backing away from political opinion or moving forward for human rights?

Our job is to provide a forum for expression, one that  we are proud to teach and share openly with our children, that our very constitution has stated and our faith has been built upon. It was not written for silence Learning the difference between tolerance as something we simply put up with and endure, or practicing tolerance as a means for change is not easy and demands from us a true evaluation of our faith as a church and in our daily lives. It also asks us to revisit as adults and kids what we feel we are tolerating alone, why we may be fearful of speaking out, how we can express our anger at what deeply hurts us and why at times we may feel so alone when we are silent.

 No, contrary to popular opinion, learning tolerance is never easy.

 I would like to close with these words that were posted under the symbol for the Universalist Church before the merger. It is on the front of the pulpit.
 
 I drew a circle that shut him out
Heretic, rebel a thing to flout
But love and I had the will to win
We drew a circle that took him in.

So be it
Amen.