This Week in Putting the Pulpit in the "Bully Pulpit"
We first became aware of Barack Obama at the 2004 Democratic National Convention,when he--then a candidate for the US Senate from our home state of Illinois--delivered a speech that was rousing and inspiring and emotional. In that speech, he introduced himself to the nation, describing his parents, his upbringing, and what drew him to public service: love of the country. "I stand here knowing that my story is part of the larger American story, that I owe a debt to all of those who came before me, and that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible."
He talked about government and its limitations:
"Now, don't get me wrong, the people I meet in small towns and big cities and diners and office parks, they don't expect government to solve all of their problems. They know they have to work hard to get ahead. And they want to.
Go into the collar counties around Chicago, and people will tell you: They don't want their tax money wasted by a welfare agency or by the Pentagon.
Go into any inner-city neighborhood, and folks will tell you that government alone can't teach kids to learn.
They know that parents have to teach, that children can't achieve unless we raise their expectations and turn off the television sets and eradicate the slander that says a black youth with a book is acting white. They know those things.
People don't expect -- people don't expect government to solve all their problems. But they sense, deep in their bones, that with just a slight change in priorities, we can make sure that every child in America has a decent shot at life and that the doors of opportunity remain open to all. They know we can do better. And they want that choice.
He ended with a vision of America as he saw it; a vision he wanted us to embrace:
Well, I say to them tonight, there's not a liberal America and a conservative America; there's the United States of America.
There's not a black America and white America and Latino America and Asian America; there's the United States of America.
The pundits, the pundits like to slice and dice our country into red states and blue States: red states for Republicans, blue States for Democrats. But I've got news for them, too. We worship an awesome God in the blue states, and we don't like federal agents poking around our libraries in the red states.
We coach little league in the blue states and, yes, we've got some gay friends in the red states.
There are patriots who opposed the war in Iraq, and there are patriots who supported the war in Iraq.
We are one people, all of us pledging allegiance to the stars and stripes, all of us defending the United States of America."
Watching that night, we said, "There's the first black president of the United States."
We were proven correct, just four years later.
President Obama has always been a masterful orator. When future books are written about the speeches of American presidents, or great speeches from American history, Obama will be well represented there.
Some Americans saw little value in those speeches. They didn't consider being a good speaker to be a hallmark of a good president. Actions matter, not soaring oratory.
They wouldn't be wrong on that point. Actions matter. Results matter. And when those future historians look back at American presidents who achieved much, who left the nation a better place than they found it, Obama will be there, too.
As Dylan Matthews writes at Vox.com, President Obama is "officially one of the most consequential presidents in American history."
That fact is now inarguable. Some won't think his contributions are good ones, and will believe he steered us in the wrong direction. But nobody can look at the record and say that he didn't act, or that his actions didn't make a difference.
The big one, of course, is the Affordable Care Act, which the Supreme Court has weighed in on multiple times, now, strengthening the law into the future. For a century, American presidents had tried to do something about universal health care, and failed. Against the stiffest opposition yet, Obama succeeded. Matthews writes, "When you consider the law in the context of 100 years of progressive activism, and in the grand scheme of American history, it starts to look less like a moderate reform and more like an epochal achievement, on the order of FDR's passage of Social Security, or LBJ's Great Society programs. It is, to quote Harvard political scientist Theda Skocpol, 'a century-defining accomplishment in the last industrial democracy to resist using national government to ensure access to health coverage for most citizens.' FDR failed, Truman failed, Nixon failed, Carter failed, Clinton failed — and Obama succeeded."
Theodore Roosevelt, who coined the phrase "bully pulpit" to describe the power of the presidency to advance an agenda, tried in 1912 to achieve universal health care. The platform of his Progressive Party (or Bull Moose Party, if you prefer) that year included this: "We favor the union of all the existing agencies of the Federal Government dealing with the public health into a single national health service without discrimination against or for any one set of therapeutic methods, school of medicine, or school of healing with such additional powers as may be necessary to enable it to perform efficiently such duties in the protection of the public from preventable diseases as may be properly undertaken by the Federal authorities, including the executing of existing laws regarding pure food, quarantine and cognate subjects, the promotion of vital statistics and the extension of the registration area of such statistics, and co-operation with the health activities of the various States and cities of the Nation."
And Obama's legacy includes not just the ACA. Matthews cites several examples, and only scratches the surface. The stimulus program that reversed the precipitous collapse of the economy and saved us from depression (while also funding clean energy initiatives, anti-poverty programs, and preventing the American automobile industry from disappearing altogether). Our first serious efforts to curb greenhouse gases. Dodd-Frank. Relations with Cuba. By ending discrimination against LGBT people in the armed forces, helping end DOMA, and putting the weight of the DOJ into supporting equal rights instead of attacking them--and by appointing justices Kagan and Sotomayor to the Supreme Court--he made possible last week's ruling on same-sex marriage.
It hasn't all been rosy. Matthews adds, "There are obviously places Obama fell short. I think he didn't take monetary policy nearly seriously enough, that the drone war is a moral catastrophe, that he's fallen short on combating HIV/AIDS and other public health scourges abroad, that the 2009 surge in Afghanistan was a mistake, and that perpetrators of torture and other war crimes from the Bush administration should have been criminally prosecuted. But while Obama could have accomplished more, it could never be said that he accomplished little."
On Friday, President Obama delivered the eulogy for pastor and state senator Clementa Pinckney of the Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC. His eulogy was a speech, but it was also a sermon. He spoke frankly of faith, of grace, and of God. He praised the deceased in no uncertain terms, described his mission in life, and called upon us all to continue that unfinished work. He discussed the tradition of black churches, showed his own comfort in that setting, and brought his audience to laughter, to tears, and ultimately to joyous harmony.
He began:
The Bible calls us to hope. To persevere, and have faith in things not seen.
"They were still living by faith when they died," Scripture tells us. "They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on Earth.
We are here today to remember a man of God who lived by faith. A man who believed in things not seen. A man who believed there were better days ahead, off in the distance. A man of service who persevered, knowing full well he would not receive all those things he was promised, because he believed his efforts would deliver a better life for those who followed.
Talking about Reverend Pinckney, he said:
Clem was often asked why he chose to be a pastor and a public servant. But the person who asked probably didn't know the history of the AME church. As our brothers and sisters in the AME church know, we don't make those distinctions. "Our calling," Clem once said, "is not just within the walls of the congregation, but...the life and community in which our congregation resides."
He embodied the idea that our Christian faith demands deeds and not just words; that the 'sweet hour of prayer' actually lasts the whole week long -- that to put our faith in action is more than individual salvation, it's about our collective salvation; that to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and house the homeless is not just a call for isolated charity but the imperative of a just society.
What a good man. Sometimes I think that's the best thing to hope for when you're eulogized -- after all the words and recitations and resumes are read, to just say someone was a good man.
After speaking about the nature of the black church, and its history standing up to oppression and violence and creating a sanctuary where black people could seek solace and safety and the presence of God in an often hostile nation, he spoke of the murders:
We do not know whether the killer of Reverend Pinckney and eight others knew all of this history. But he surely sensed the meaning of his violent act. It was an act that drew on a long history of bombs and arson and shots fired at churches, not random, but as a means of control, a way to terrorize and oppress. An act that he imagined would incite fear and recrimination; violence and suspicion. An act that he presumed would deepen divisions that trace back to our nation's original sin.
Oh, but God works in mysterious ways. God has different ideas.
He didn't know he was being used by God. Blinded by hatred, the alleged killer could not see the grace surrounding Reverend Pinckney and that Bible study group -- the light of love that shone as they opened the church doors and invited a stranger to join in their prayer circle. The alleged killer could have never anticipated the way the families of the fallen would respond when they saw him in court -- in the midst of unspeakable grief, with words of forgiveness. He couldn't imagine that.
The alleged killer could not imagine how the city of Charleston, under the good and wise leadership of Mayor Riley -- how the state of South Carolina, how the United States of America would respond -- not merely with revulsion at his evil act, but with big-hearted generosity and, more importantly, with a thoughtful introspection and self-examination that we so rarely see in public life.
Blinded by hatred, he failed to comprehend what Reverend Pinckney so well understood -- the power of God's grace.
He spoke about the Confederate flag and the message it sends, about systemic bias that keeps so many black Americans impoverished and imprisoned, about the continuing scourge of gun violence, couching it all in the context of God's grace. "We don't earn grace. We're all sinners. We don't deserve it. But God gives it to us anyway. And we choose how to receive it. It's our decision how to honor it."
He ended by bringing the audience to their feet, involving them in the speech in a way we've rarely seen done by a politician, but can often be achieved by a preacher:
Reverend Pinckney once said, "Across the South, we have a deep appreciation of history -- we haven't always had a deep appreciation of each other's history." (Applause.) What is true in the South is true for America. Clem understood that justice grows out of recognition of ourselves in each other. That my liberty depends on you being free, too. (Applause.) That history can't be a sword to justify injustice, or a shield against progress, but must be a manual for how to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past -- how to break the cycle. A roadway toward a better world. He knew that the path of grace involves an open mind -- but, more importantly, an open heart.
That's what I've felt this week -- an open heart. That, more than any particular policy or analysis, is what's called upon right now, I think -- what a friend of mine, the writer Marilynne Robinson, calls "that reservoir of goodness, beyond, and of another kind, that we are able to do each other in the ordinary cause of things."
That reservoir of goodness. If we can find that grace, anything is possible. If we can tap that grace, everything can change.
Amazing grace. Amazing grace.
(Begins to sing) -- Amazing grace -- how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me; I once was lost, but now I'm found; was blind but now I see.
Clementa Pinckney found that grace.
Cynthia Hurd found that grace.
Susie Jackson found that grace.
Ethel Lance found that grace.
DePayne Middleton-Doctor found that grace.
Tywanza Sanders found that grace.
Daniel L. Simmons, Sr. found that grace.
Sharonda Coleman-Singleton found that grace.
Myra Thompson found that grace.
Through the example of their lives, they've now passed it on to us. May we find ourselves worthy of that precious and extraordinary gift, as long as our lives endure. May grace now lead them home. May God continue to shed His grace on the United States of America.
The audience joined in the singing, the organist played, and the smiles on the faces of the congregants were as real as the tears had been earlier. As real, but more powerful. Because those smiles, those voices lifted in song, were manifestations of the joy his audience finds in the grace of God, in His presence in that church, and that presence is so much stronger than the presence of the small young man who sat there for an hour, a week earlier, and out of twisted racial hate, murdered nine decent human beings.
The full text of the speech is here, and the video is here. Watch it if you can, because reading the words is a wan substitute for hearing their delivery, for seeing the faces of those present. The distinguished reporter James Fallows echoes our sentiment, in a piece that vividly deconstructs the speech--its writing and its performance. "Here is another reason to watch rather than just read about the presentation. It reinforces the fact that this was a major national ceremony, involving fundamental discussion of national issues and prospects, in which all the major participants were black: president, preachers, mourners, congregation. I can’t think of a comparable previous event. Someone writing about our time will, I think, note it as an important step that this was treated not as a 'minority' commemoration but as a central American discussion."
There have been a few genuinely powerful speeches about race delivered by our presidents. Abraham Lincoln gave one. So did Lyndon B. Johnson. Now Barack Obama has joined them.
President Obama is a world-class orator, but he is much more than that. He has spent his presidency trying to heal divisions, trying to bring people together, trying to show that we are not a red America and a blue America, but a United States of America. That effort has been met with cynicism and partisan opposition, even unreasoning hatred. He has been frustrated at many turns, and has done what he can to overcome those obstacles in his path. Speech-making isn't everything a president does. Actions matter. But words matter, too.
His presidency has not been perfect--no one's could be. He has, as we guessed before he took office, disappointed in some areas. But he has accomplished much, and he has tried to do more. Ultimately, it's the historians who will decipher what impact he had on American progress. But we suspect that, whatever their judgment of his presidential administration, when it's time for eulogies, people will be able to say that he was a good man.
Side Note 1: We here at TWiA World Headquarters are not religious, not believers. But watching this speech/sermon, we can understand why many people are, and we respect that decision.
Side Note 2: Although there's no evidence that they're connected, the past few days have seen a rash of arson fires (and some of as-yet-indeterminate origin) at (mostly) black churches in the South, and in Ohio. The FBI and ATF are joining local officials to investigate.