April 4, 1968

       Mayor Lugar expressed concern about Robert Kennedy speaking in Indianapolis on April 4, 1968—the day Martin Luther King was murdered.   Numerous enraged citizens had dispersed themselves among Kennedy campaign supporters for the purpose of inciting a riot.         

      Yet, Kennedy, off the cuff, spoke into the volatile situation.  Kennedy admitted that he understood why people would be enraged about the assassination.  He admitted experiencing feelings of hatred after his own brother had been murdered.  Nevertheless, he had the courage to ask the crowd to respond with love.   Kennedy said he had experienced God’s healing while engaging the ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus, who wrote: “And even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”

        Many other American cities erupted into violence after King’s death.  Indianapolis did not, which has led historians and political commentators to do a rhetorical analysis of Kennedy’s speech.  I watched a PBS documentary about it last year.  Commentators point out that the speech was authentically Kennedy’s own.   They say things like even disadvantaged audiences appreciate high art which enriches the soul.  True enough.

     But only Bobby Kennedy could have made that speech.  Only someone who had born in his soul the kind of murderous injustice which others feel—only one who bears the crown of others’ thorns or suffers from the same bullets-- can ask of a bereaved crowd what Kennedy asked.  Only a fellow-sufferer can channel vengeful zeal into an awe-inspiring love that shuts the mouths of lions, makes peace in Indianapolis, and redeems the world.    

     When such a fellow-sufferer speaks it’s important to listen to what they actually say: Kennedy said the grace of God slowly bestows wisdom upon broken hearts.  Drop by drop, even in our sleep, grace gives us wisdom in the middle of pain.  Even when our hearts would rather hate, the undeserved mercy of God turns our pain into love.   That’s the message of Dr. King.  It is, by the way, also the message of the cross.

Thirty-Three Minutes

     During my recent trip to Texas, I had a daily commute in order to get to my social anthropology class.  My hosts live on the Southwest side of Fort Worth, and my classes were on the North side of Dallas—a distance of some 45 miles of the densest freeway traffic Hoosiers can imagine. 

      About half-way through my final trip, Google Maps told me that I was on the fastest route and that I was 33 minutes from my destination.  Then traffic began to slow. Google re-routed me twice.   I kept driving.  Over the next twenty minutes, I continued to look down at the map program which continued to read “thirty-three minutes to my destination.”  I started making aggressive lane changes like the locals. Yet, because Google was calculating for emerging problems ahead of me, I remained thirty-three minutes away from class. It felt like time was standing still. 

     Elon Musk, the CEO of Tesla, describes this kind of traffic as “soul destroying.”  He proposes boring new high-speed freeways under the ground.  Yet, as I throttled at five miles per hour, I fantasized about other traffic solutions.  Should we not just design communities that help people work where they live?  What would be wrong with our coworkers becoming our neighbors?  What would be wrong with walking to work?  I know this sounds radical, but sitting in Dallas traffic will radicalize a person.

     Then, I realized that Musk and I were expecting too much from technical solutions.  Traffic, by itself, is not a “soul-destroying

” problem.  Being stuck mid-trip is a just a metaphor for being stuck in life, unable to achieve what we set out to accomplish.   Neither modern science nor postmodern communes will eliminate our experience of coming up short—feeling frustrated when we can’t accomplish something.

     So I began praying. Heaven opened.  God reminded me that I tend to achieve more when I stop worrying about future goals and just start loving people-- like Jesus-- in the moment. 

      I let some merging traffic go ahead of me. Astonishingly, I was even happy about it.