“Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?” [Isaiah 58:5-7]
After a few incidents at school, my parents decided they needed to teach my brother and I about civil rights. They chose to do this through number of family field trips. We visited a house that was a stop on the Underground Railroad, a few Civil War battlefields and went to a number of civil rights museums. Of all the museums and battlefields we visited, the most meaningful experience occurred very close to home at the National Civil Rights Museum at the Lorraine Motel, in Memphis, TN. The “exhibit” I remember the most was not inside a museum and it was not created or cared for by museum curators. It was a 60 year old African American Woman sitting on a sofa across the street from the National Civil Rights Museum.
Before I tell you about my encounter with this woman, I need to give you a little more history on the National Civil Rights Museum. In 1968, after Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was shot and killed inside the Lorraine Motel, the motel owner kept rooms 306 and 307 as a shrine to Dr. King. While rooms 306 and 307 stayed in pristine condition over the years the rest of the hotel was difficult to maintain. By the early 80’s the motel was in a state of disrepair and home to a number of very low income/near homeless families. To save the motel from destruction the motel owner gathered together a group of wealthy individuals willing to purchase the property and turn the Lorraine Motel into the museum it is today. The only problem with turning Dr. King’s assassination site into a civil rights museum was the families who made the motel their home. These families did not have anywhere else to go and did not receive any financial compensation from the individuals purchasing their home. They had few resources to help them relocate when they were kicked out of their home in the late 80’s. After protest from the hotel residents, the city of Memphis stepped in and offered to relocate everyone. The city stood by their word only long enough to get everyone out of the Lorraine. They did not actually find new homes for anyone.
One of the women, who had called the Lorraine Motel home, was still living across the street from the hotel when my family visited in 1993. She had little more than a sun shelter, a sofa, and a sign counting the number of days she had lived on the street. Her witness, which she shared in a ten minute conversation, taught me more than any museum. Nothing inside the civil rights museum could deliver a more powerful message than a conversation with a woman waiting for the city to uphold its promise to help her find a new home. She was very well aware of this fact, which is why she spent every day in sacred conversations about civil rights with anyone willing to stop and listen. She was living proof that there was still work to do in the fight for civil rights and equality. At least that was what I told my parents over dinner. My parents responded to my comment with shock. They had not noticed the lady on the street and were horrified that their eleven year old daughter somehow spent a good 10 minutes alone talking to a homeless person. I don’t remember the women’s name, but I will never forget the conversation.
God, help us to see all of your children and to fight for everyone’s civil rights so that someday your realm will come on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.