
I’m reading a great book, Culture Care by Makoto Fujimura, a brilliant Christian artist and founder of IAM the International Arts Movement. This excerpt is the story behind one of the most famous speeches of all time and a reminder of our role as artists in the culture.
“In August 1963, prior to giving his “I Have a Dream” speech at the march on Washington, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. found himself exhausted by a series of setbacks, imprisonments, oppressions and disappointments. He was so physically worn out that he spent many hours simply resting while followers wrote the speech he was to give to the historic gathering. One of his close aides, Clarence Benjamin Jones, said that “the logistical preparation for the march were so burdensome that the speech was not a priority for us” and “on the evening of Tuesday, August 27 [twelve hours before the march], Martin still didn’t know what he was going to say.” After walking a few miles to the Lincoln Memorial, he stood to read the prepared text, but he knew something was not right.
Mahalia Jackson, the great Gospel singer who sang before he spoke, who stood behind Dr. King throughout the speech. As he read, she kept on yelling “Tell ’em about the dream, Martin, Tell ’em about the dream.” At the end of the prepared speech, Dr. King put down his text and began to speak extemporaneously; the energy of the listening crowd, and the result was the “I have a dream” we know today.
Imagine that, an artist pushing a tired preacher to preach from his heart. Dr. King was an artist of the dream, but it took another artist to recognize the artistry that was being held back by the context of the gathering.
Artists need to stand behind the podiums of preachers, teachers and leaders and remind them to “tell ’em about the dream!” Part of our calling is to remind leaders of what they are marching toward to begin with, to reach the deepest recesses of their own visions. Sometimes we need to remind them to put down their prepared texts. Artists who operate as [cultural border walkers] can exhort in this way, in and out of a prepared tribal language into a visionary, extemporaneous jazz language of the heart. That music invites all to become extemporaneous artists of care.”
Who can you help “tell ’em about the dream?”