It was the Rev. Al Sharpton who spoke on the occasion of Rosa Park’s funeral service - a day filled with remembrance of a revolutionary woman. Revolutionary in fact because of her distinct and divinely ordered decision to stand up [by sitting down] in the face of an oppressive system.
As Rev. Sharpton reflected on this moral inflection point in history he spoke a word that reverberates today: “Mirrors are not only to reflect what you see, but to correct what you see”.
We are raised by a range of mirrors. Some which reflect the “right” way to live and some which reflect the wrong.
We are led to believe that what’s familiar is right and what’s foreign is wrong. Though despite our nurtured conceptions, their remains placed in us a God given moral compass. We are drawn into this world on somewhat of a blank canvas, engraved with divine design. Though as we grow, we also inherit instruction from the reflections of these around us.
Yet this sense, this intuition, and divinely endowed discernment arises at times when our divine reflection is fogged by the folly of human nurture.
Conflict is inevitable in a world that continually challenges our character. Still we know what harmony feels and looks like.
This morning our group of 30 students and chaperones made our way through the airport to TSA, onward to home. As security chauferred our group to the proper checkpoint, we were met with our fair share of glares.
As we processed through the stanchions in unison, a brief line of travelers began to built up around us patiently waiting for us to pass.
But there was one family of three that just could not wait. Well a mother who couldn’t wait and two children who seemingly had no choice but to follow.
Their mother was a mirror for disruption. She reflected the reality that not everyone has patience for the process. She reflected the desire we each feel to go when something in us says “no”.
This woman was not in a hurry, she was on her own time in her own world. We seemingly lived among her, becoming a hurdle in her path. There was no rush, only a need for speed.
Despite her inconsideration, with a breath of hope, her son says” mom, what are you doing?”. As if to signal that something’s wrong, as if to reach for a reversal or to warn the wayward.
The mother knew what she was doing, but the son knew better. He saw the signs- not in the swing of the morning’s momentum, not in the flow of rolling bags, not in the pulse of the people in front of him, but in his God given inner sense.
In that moment he chose to witness, he chose to live out loud. I can’t blame him for following, I can only commend him for speaking up.