Today's subject line comes to you from W.E.B. Dubois's "Agitation," first published in The Crisis in 1910 and quoted by Gail Seavey in her sermon this morning at First UU Nashville. Rev. Gail believes Dubois was directly addressing Thomas Wentworth Higginson (among others), a prominent abolitionist whom some of you may better know of as one of Emily Dickinson's correspondents.

If I ever write about this political season for formal publication, one of the things I most want to capture is the sheer emotion I've witnessed from people as a result of Obama's victory. There have been images in the mainstream media of people with tears running down their faces, and following the eruptions of joy across the blogosphere as the returns came in was also something to behold ... but what has also stayed with me is how both the senior and music ministers of my church have visibly and audibly choked up, full of wonder, at being able to say "the United States of America ... has now elected Barack Hussein Obama, a person whose Kenyan father's and Kansan mother's marriage would have been illegal in 22 states when he was born, to its highest office" (Jason, in his sermon the Sunday after Election Day) and "this week, Barack Obama will be inaugurated..." (Gail, in today's sermon). It is no small thing to see people so moved.

Today's meditation hymn was #150 in Singing the Living Tradition, "All Whose Boast It Is," which is a modified version of "Stanzas on Freedom" by James Russell Lowell (another great Unitarian abolitionist), set to "Salzburg" (a classic, majestic German tune - not the one you heard if you clicked the "Stanzas" link). I have mixed feelings about its presentation in SLT, because while I vastly prefer singing the inclusive version, I wish SLT had at least indicated the text was modified. (I'm thinking of lettering the hymn for an upcoming exhibit, and while I generally prefer to stick with the original wording, I'm going to have to go with "Adapted from..." in this case. The second verse of the original... *winces*)

Textual conflicts aside, it's a firebrand of a hymn (I first encountered it a couple years ago, and my initial reaction was "Holy COW") -- and the harmony (by good old J.S. Bach) is a joy to sing.

The closing hymn was "We Shall Overcome" -- and that's another song with which I have a conflicted relationship. I don't tend to think of myself as a cynic -- I mistrust people who boast about it as a virtue -- but every now and then I walk slap into the fact that I'm less optimistic than many of my fellow/sister travelers: put bluntly, I don't actually believe world peace is possible. Not in my lifetime, and probably not for centuries to come.

That said, will I work towards it? Yes, because I do believe in the mandate voiced by Rabbi Tarfon: "You are not required to complete the task, yet you are not free to withdraw from it." (Pirke Avot 2:20 and 2:21)

So singing "We Shall Overcome" is an odd experience, because the words "Deep in my heart / I do believe" would stick in my throat -- but the melody within those four bars is so perfect that the words ring out in spite of my unbelief. And if it helps those around me persevere, that's enough reason to add my voice -- but for those of you who sometimes find yourselves helplessly out of step with the community around you (no matter how beloved and generous and loving), this post is for you: the words don't and can't always fit all of us all of the time, no matter how universal they try to be. The question is whether you choose to be sour about it or to march on as best you can.

(A half-decade ago, I attended a service at Congregation Micah where I was next to a woman who quietly but deliberately fell silent every time the words "forever and ever" appeared in a prayer. I also remember that she was there, on a morning when the sanctuary was more than half-empty. Whenever I think of people passionately engaged with God, that woman always comes to mind.)