San Antonio and MLK Jr.

Yesterday San Antonio staged its annual Martin Luther King Jr. March thru the East Side, honoring the memory of the slain civil rights leader. I did not participate in this, billed as the largest (in number of participants) in the nation. Haven't marched in previous years either -- choosing to focus my "marching support" on the César Chávez March in early Spring.

However, I did attend Sunday afternoon's MLK Memorial Interfaith Service, for the first time. I had received a flier about this special worship from Nettie Hinton, an Afro-american lady who served with me on the VÍA Citizens Advisory Council. (Her term recently ended, but then I'd seen her at another meeting, to organize opposition to digital billboards -- she's quite the activist.)

I wish I'd known that Nettie was a member of Holy Redeemer Catholic Church, host church for the worship. Had I known, I could have phoned her (off the CAC member list) for directions to the church. All I knew from the flier was that Holy Redeemer is at 1819 Nevada, and that Nevada is one of the "state-name" streets running west-to-east south of East Commerce on the near East Side. When I called the church's phone number three times Sunday morning all I got was a recording about the Mass schedule.

So I went early by bus to the East Side, the closest thing San Antonio has to a ghetto neighborhood. I did a walking search around St. Phillips College, for first Nevada Street and then Holy Redeemer Church. Turned out the church was very close to the college, a historically Black junior college and now one of the campuses of the Alamo Community Colleges. Holy Redeemer, an historically Black Catholic parish, has a beautiful and traditional sanctuary in red brick, to which a larger sanctuary space has been added in back, with semicircular seating.

I became very glad that I'd persevered in my search for the church, because the MLK Interfaith Service was, in two words, inspired and inspiring! In the "Black tradition of worship" which I learned about while a seminarian at TCU's Brite Divinity School, it was long -- almost two hours -- and sort of "multi-media" in that it contained elements of dance as well as song, litanies, brief addresses from public officials, and a sermon or message. This last was given by Cary Clack, an Afro-american column writer for the San Antonio Express-News. Cary is one of three E-N columnists whose writings are in my opinion very good, enjoyable and informative reading! His spoken message this day wasn't as electrifying as the man whose memory we were celebrating. But then, Martin Luther King, Jr., was a very gifted speaker! And I did appreciate some of the words Cary had to say regarding Brother King. A major theme of it was to remember that King wasn't all that popular at the time of his death (even among Afro-american civil rights activists). Also, we mustn't let Dr. King's memory become a sanitized, frozen icon for the current on-going struggle for civil rights for all.

Earlier, one of the speakers mentioned a fascinating tidbit or research data. Seems that three separate genetic researchers had separately determined that no one human is more than 50 cousins removed from any other human! "So turn to your neighbor and greet them with 'hello, Cousin!'"

I should point out that this white bread (i.e., yours truly) wasn't standing out like a sore thumb, surrounded by a sea of black African faces! There were several other whites or Anglos, a few Hispanics and numerous Sikhs and other Indians. A true mosaic of races and ethnicity, reflective of the diversity of San Antonio!

When I had scanned the order of worship handout, I noticed that on the back side of the folded paper were the lyrics for "We Shall Overcome", which all would sing at the closing. It's natural to connect this particular song with Brother King. However, years ago I had learned that Dr. King's favorite song was "Precious Lord, Take My Hand" by Tommy Dorsey. I happened to enjoy that hymn, too, and knowing his preference for it caused me to cherish it even more. Therefore, I considered that we ought to have included it in our program.

The San Antonio Choral Society made up for this omission with a song they sang. Their song's title wasn't printed in the order of worship, but as soon as they began singing it a whirl of emotions surged thru me: peace, nostalgia, thanksgiving, longing. . . . For the song was "There Is a Balm in Gilead". While I was a University of Idaho student I'd purchased a vinyl LP album which on one side had the Vandal Marching Band and on the other the Vandaleer Choir. One of the choir's numbers was "There Is a Balm" sung a capella, and the recorded rendition was identical to the S.A. Choral Society's live singing now! Even to a solo female (soprano, I think) on one particular verse!

Remember how back in September I "died and went to Heaven" when I was at a Ray Price concert with my brother Patrick and Price sang "Crazy Arms"? Well, this was a very similar feeling! This one had the added benefit of being a peaceful expression of trust in our Heavenly Father (rather than being a pop country bemoaning of unrequited love). It also had a minus, sort of, of causing intense longing for Idaho (which upon my first sojourn in Texas in '76 I had called "God's Country"). I was close to tears for the mountains and pines of my raising -- HERE, in a MLK service in the Alamo City!

Following the service there was abundant food in the nearby fellowship hall. I got to thank Cary Clack for his well-written columns in the newspaper and his speech/sermon here. And I got to speak with my friend and sister Nettie. . . well, "cousin" according to that one speaker before Clack -- but she IS my sister-in-Christ. When I told her how much "There Is a Balm in Gilead" had blessed me (she's one of the singers in the S.A. Choral Society), she informed me that that a capella version comes from the Tuskegee Institute, another historically Black college. (I'm certain that my alma mater got the song from that source.)