For the past several weeks I’ve been reading books by Howard Thurman, to whom I was introduced in seminary. I’m embarrassed to say that in a way, because I feel that I should have been introduced to him much earlier in life. But what I realized then is that there are very few times in my academic life that I was introduced to minority voices within theology. I am slowly trying to correct that, and maybe my sharing with you will help.

I recently read “Jesus and the Disinherited” and offered a brief excerpt in the May 29 blog post.  Right now I’m reading “The Search for Common Ground.” Thurman wrote it in the aftermath of the assasination of Martin Luther King, Jr. in an attempt to reconcile what he felt was an increasing polarization in American society. Kind of ironic, isn’t it? It feels to me like we are only now living in the most polarizing time since the Civil War. Reading about white militia groups that are stockpiling weapons and planning for a race war makes it feel like we are closer than ever to another one. Along with that, social distancing creates a literal forced separation and this entire virus fallout feels pretty apocalyptic. But the demonstrations we have seen across this country over the past weeks have brought me renewed hope. I see people coming together, maybe not as safely as they should at times, but coming together around ways to find common ground.

I read this book and I am stunned by how prophetic it is. It is just more affirmation that God uses the voices of those perceived by humanity as weak to say and do the strongest things. We take comfort that when Christ returns, all the human power and wealth that people have so carefully built up will be transformed into beauty that can be shared equally by all.

In the preface, Thurman has an excerpt from a poem that I want to leave with you today. I was unfamiliar with the words and the writer, Olive Schriener, so I looked her up. A complicated figure, she was born in colonized South Africa in 1855, received no formal education but wrote a very successful novel called “The Story of An African Farm'' which was published in 1883. She was a strong advocate for African civil rights and her brother was Prime Minister of the Cape Colony for a brief time. She wrote several other works as well including a book of dreams simply titled “Dreams” in 1890 from which this poem comes. It is from Chapter Five: Three Dreams in a Desert.

And I awoke; and all about me was the yellow afternoon light: the sinking sun lit up the fingers of the milk bushes; and my horse stood by me quietly feeding. And I turned on my side, and I watched the ants run by thousands in the red sand. I thought I would go on my way now—the afternoon was cooler. Then a drowsiness crept over me again, and I laid back my head and fell asleep.

And I dreamed a dream.

I dreamed I saw a land. And on the hills walked brave women and brave men, hand in hand. And they looked into each other’s eyes, and they were not afraid.

And I saw the women also hold each other’s hands.

And I said to him beside me, “What place is this?”

And he said, “This is heaven.”

And I said, “Where is it?”

And he answered, “On earth.”

And I said, “When shall these things be?”

And he answered, “IN THE FUTURE.”

And I awoke, and all about me was the sunset light; and on the low hills the sun lay, and a delicious coolness had crept over everything; and the ants were going slowly home. And I walked towards my horse, who stood quietly feeding. Then the sun passed down behind the hills; but I knew that the next day he would arise again.