Good morning. Praise be to God. Let me begin
by thanking the entire Vermont Avenue Baptist
Church family for welcoming our family here
today. It feels like a family. Thank you for
making us feel that way. (Applause.) To Pastor
Wheeler, first lady Wheeler, thank you so
much for welcoming us here today. Congratulations
on Jordan Denice -- aka Cornelia. (Laughter.)
Michelle and I have been blessed with a new
nephew this year as well -- Austin Lucas Robinson.
(Applause.) So maybe at the appropriate time
we can make introductions. (Laughter.) Now,
if Jordan's father is like me, then that will
be in about 30 years. (Laughter.) That is
a great blessing.
Michelle and Malia and Sasha and I are thrilled
to be here today. And I know that sometimes
you have to go through a little fuss to have
me as a guest speaker. (Laughter.) So let
me apologize in advance for all the fuss.
We gather here, on a Sabbath, during a time
of profound difficulty for our nation and
for our world. In such a time, it soothes
the soul to seek out the Divine in a spirit
of prayer; to seek solace among a community
of believers. But we are not here just to
ask the Lord for His blessing. We aren't here
just to interpret His Scripture. We're also
here to call on the memory of one of His noble
servants, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King,
Jr.
Now, it's fitting that we do so here, within
the four walls of Vermont Avenue Baptist Church
 -- here, in a church that rose like the phoenix
from the ashes of the civil war; here in a
church formed by freed slaves, whose founding
pastor had worn the union blue; here in a
church from whose pews congregants set out
for marches and from whom choir anthems of
freedom were heard; from whose sanctuary King
himself would sermonize from time to time.
One of those times was Thursday, December
6, 1956. Pastor, you said you were a little
older than me, so were you around at that
point? (Laughter.) You were three years old
 -- okay. (Laughter.) I wasn't born yet. (Laughter.)
On Thursday, December 6, 1956. And before
Dr. King had pointed us to the mountaintop,
before he told us about his dream in front
of the Lincoln Memorial, King came here, as
a 27-year-old preacher, to speak on what he
called "The Challenge of a New Age." "The
Challenge of a New Age." It was a period of
triumph, but also uncertainty, for Dr. King
and his followers -- because just weeks earlier,
the Supreme Court had ordered the desegregation
of Montgomery's buses, a hard-wrought, hard-fought
victory that would put an end to the 381-day
historic boycott down in Montgomery, Alabama.
And yet, as Dr. King rose to take that pulpit,
the future still seemed daunting. It wasn't
clear what would come next for the movement
that Dr. King led. It wasn't clear how we
were going to reach the Promised Land. Because
segregation was still rife; lynchings still
a fact. Yes, the Supreme Court had ruled not
only on the Montgomery buses, but also on
Brown v. Board of Education. And yet that
ruling was defied throughout the South -- by
schools and by states; they ignored it with
impunity. And here in the nation's capital,
the federal government had yet to fully align
itself with the laws on its books and the
ideals of its founding.
So it's not hard for us, then, to imagine
that moment. We can imagine folks coming to
this church, happy about the boycott being
over. We can also imagine them, though, coming
here concerned about their future, sometimes
second-guessing strategy, maybe fighting off
some creeping doubts, perhaps despairing about
whether the movement in which they had placed
so many of their hopes -- a movement in which
they believed so deeply -- could actually
deliver on its promise.
So here we are, more than half a century later,
once again facing the challenges of a new
age. Here we are, once more marching toward
an unknown future, what I call the Joshua
generation to their Moses generation -- the
great inheritors of progress paid for with
sweat and blood, and sometimes life itself.
We've inherited the progress of unjust laws
that are now overturned. We take for granted
the progress of a ballot being available to
anybody who wants to take the time to actually
vote. We enjoy the fruits of prejudice and
bigotry being lifted -- slowly, sometimes
in fits and starts, but irrevocably -- from
human hearts. It's that progress that made
it possible for me to be here today; for the
good people of this country to elect an African
American the 44th President of the United
States of America.
Reverend Wheeler mentioned the inauguration,
last year's election. You know, on the heels
of that victory over a year ago, there were
some who suggested that somehow we had entered
into a post-racial America, all those problems
would be solved. There were those who argued
that because I had spoke of a need for unity
in this country that our nation was somehow
entering into a period of post-partisanship.
That didn't work out so well. There was a
hope shared by many that life would be better
from the moment that I swore that oath.
Of course, as we meet here today, one year
later, we know the promise of that moment
has not yet been fully fulfilled. Because
of an era of greed and irresponsibility that
sowed the seeds of its own demise, because
of persistent economic troubles unaddressed
through the generations, because of a banking
crisis that brought the financial system to
the brink of catastrophe, we are being tested
 -- in our own lives and as a nation -- as
few have been tested before.
Unemployment is at its highest level in more
than a quarter of a century. Nowhere is it
higher than the African American community.
Poverty is on the rise. Home ownership is
slipping. Beyond our shores, our sons and
daughters are fighting two wars. Closer to
home, our Haitian brothers and sisters are
in desperate need. Bruised, battered, many
people are legitimately feeling doubt, even
despair, about the future. Like those who
came to this church on that Thursday in 1956,
folks are wondering, where do we go from here?
I understand those feelings. I understand
the frustration and sometimes anger that so
many folks feel as they struggle to stay afloat.
I get letters from folks around the country
every day; I read 10 a night out of the 40,000
that we receive. And there are stories of
hardship and desperation, in some cases, pleading
for help: I need a job. I'm about to lose
my home. I don't have health care -- it's
about to cause my family to be bankrupt. Sometimes
you get letters from children: My mama or
my daddy have lost their jobs, is there something
you can do to help? Ten letters like that
a day we read.
So, yes, we're passing through a hard winter.
It's the hardest in some time. But let's always
remember that, as a people, the American people,
we've weathered some hard winters before.
This country was founded during some harsh
winters. The fishermen, the laborers, the
craftsmen who made camp at Valley Forge -- they
weathered a hard winter. The slaves and the
freedmen who rode an underground railroad,
seeking the light of justice under the cover
of night -- they weathered a hard winter.
The seamstress whose feet were tired, the
pastor whose voice echoes through the ages
 -- they weathered some hard winters. It was
for them, as it is for us, difficult, in the
dead of winter, to sometimes see spring coming.
They, too, sometimes felt their hopes deflate.
And yet, each season, the frost melts, the
cold recedes, the sun reappears. So it was
for earlier generations and so it will be
for us.
What we need to do is to just ask what lessons
we can learn from those earlier generations
about how they sustained themselves during
those hard winters, how they persevered and
prevailed. Let us in this Joshua generation
learn how that Moses generation overcame.
Let me offer a few thoughts on this. First
and foremost, they did so by remaining firm
in their resolve. Despite being threatened
by sniper fire or planted bombs, by shoving
and punching and spitting and angry stares,
they adhered to that sweet spirit of resistance,
the principles of nonviolence that had accounted
for their success.
Second, they understood that as much as our
government and our political parties had betrayed
them in the past -- as much as our nation
itself had betrayed its own ideals -- government,
if aligned with the interests of its people,
can be -- and must be -- a force for good.
So they stayed on the Justice Department.
They went into the courts. They pressured
Congress, they pressured their President.
They didn't give up on this country. They
didn't give up on government. They didn't
somehow say government was the problem; they
said, we're going to change government, we're
going to make it better. Imperfect as it was,
they continued to believe in the promise of
democracy; in America's constant ability to
remake itself, to perfect this union.
Third, our predecessors were never so consumed
with theoretical debates that they couldn't
see progress when it came. Sometimes I get
a little frustrated when folks just don't
want to see that even if we don't get everything,
we're getting something. (Applause.) King
understood that the desegregation of the Armed
Forces didn't end the civil rights movement,
because black and white soldiers still couldn't
sit together at the same lunch counter when
they came home. But he still insisted on the
rightness of desegregating the Armed Forces.
That was a good first step -- even as he called
for more. He didn't suggest that somehow by
the signing of the Civil Rights that somehow
all discrimination would end. But he also
didn't think that we shouldn't sign the Civil
Rights Act because it hasn't solved every
problem. Let's take a victory, he said, and
then keep on marching. Forward steps, large
and small, were recognized for what they were
 -- which was progress.
Fourth, at the core of King's success was
an appeal to conscience that touched hearts
and opened minds, a commitment to universal
ideals -- of freedom, of justice, of equality
 -- that spoke to all people, not just some
people. For King understood that without broad
support, any movement for civil rights could
not be sustained. That's why he marched with
the white auto worker in Detroit. That's why
he linked arm with the Mexican farm worker
in California, and united people of all colors
in the noble quest for freedom.
Of course, King overcame in other ways as
well. He remained strategically focused on
gaining ground -- his eyes on the prize constantly
 -- understanding that change would not be
easy, understand that change wouldn't come
overnight, understanding that there would
be setbacks and false starts along the way,
but understanding, as he said in 1956, that
"we can walk and never get weary, because
we know there is a great camp meeting in the
promised land of freedom and justice."
And it's because the Moses generation overcame
that the trials we face today are very different
from the ones that tested us in previous generations.
Even after the worst recession in generations,
life in America is not even close to being
as brutal as it was back then for so many.
That's the legacy of Dr. King and his movement.
That's our inheritance. Having said that,
let there be no doubt the challenges of our
new age are serious in their own right, and
we must face them as squarely as they faced
the challenges they saw.
I know it's been a hard road we've traveled
this year to rescue the economy, but the economy
is growing again. The job losses have finally
slowed, and around the country, there's signs
that businesses and families are beginning
to rebound. We are making progress.
I know it's been a hard road that we've traveled
to reach this point on health reform. I promise
you I know. (Laughter.) But under the legislation
I will sign into law, insurance companies
won't be able to drop you when you get sick,
and more than 30 million people -- (applause)
 -- our fellow Americans will finally have
insurance. More than 30 million men and women
and children, mothers and fathers, won't be
worried about what might happen to them if
they get sick. This will be a victory not
for Democrats; this will be a victory for
dignity and decency, for our common humanity.
This will be a victory for the United States
of America.
Let's work to change the political system,
as imperfect as it is. I know people can feel
down about the way things are going sometimes
here in Washington. I know it's tempting to
give up on the political process. But we've
put in place tougher rules on lobbying and
ethics and transparency -- tougher rules than
any administration in history. It's not enough,
but it's progress. Progress is possible. Don't
give up on voting. Don't give up on advocacy.
Don't give up on activism. There are too many
needs to be met, too much work to be done.
Like Dr. King said, "We must accept finite
disappointment but never lose infinite hope."
Let us broaden our coalition, building a confederation
not of liberals or conservatives, not of red
states or blue states, but of all Americans
who are hurting today, and searching for a
better tomorrow. The urgency of the hour demands
that we make common cause with all of America's
workers -- white, black, brown -- all of whom
are being hammered by this recession, all
of whom are yearning for that spring to come.
It demands that we reach out to those who've
been left out in the cold even when the economy
is good, even when we're not in recession
 -- the youth in the inner cities, the youth
here in Washington, D.C., people in rural
communities who haven't seen prosperity reach
them for a very long time. It demands that
we fight discrimination, whatever form it
may come. That means we fight discrimination
against gays and lesbians, and we make common
cause to reform our immigration system.
And finally, we have to recognize, as Dr.
King did, that progress can't just come from
without -- it also has to come from within.
And over the past year, for example, we've
made meaningful improvements in the field
of education. I've got a terrific Secretary
of Education, Arne Duncan. He's been working
hard with states and working hard with the
D.C. school district, and we've insisted on
reform, and we've insisted on accountability.
We we're putting in more money and we've provided
more Pell Grants and more tuition tax credits
and simpler financial aid forms. We've done
all that, but parents still need to parent.
(Applause.) Kids still need to own up to their
responsibilities. We still have to set high
expectations for our young people. Folks can't
simply look to government for all the answers
without also looking inside themselves, inside
their own homes, for some of the answers.
Progress will only come if we're willing to
promote that ethic of hard work, a sense of
responsibility, in our own lives. I'm not
talking, by the way, just to the African American
community. Sometimes when I say these things
people assme, well, he's just talking to black
people about working hard. No, no, no, no.
I'm talking to the American community. Because
somewhere along the way, we, as a nation,
began to lose touch with some of our core
values. You know what I'm talking about. We
became enraptured with the false prophets
who prophesized an easy path to success, paved
with credit cards and home equity loans and
get-rich-quick schemes, and the most important
thing was to be a celebrity; it doesn't matter
what you do, as long as you get on TV. That's
everybody.
We forgot what made the bus boycott a success;
what made the civil rights movement a success;
what made the United States of America a success
 -- that, in this country, there's no substitute
for hard work, no substitute for a job well
done, no substitute for being responsible
stewards of God's blessings.
What we're called to do, then, is rebuild
America from its foundation on up. To reinvest
in the essentials that we've neglected for
too long -- like health care, like education,
like a better energy policy, like basic infrastructure,
like scientific research. Our generation is
called to buckle down and get back to basics.
We must do so not only for ourselves, but
also for our children, and their children.
For Jordan and for Austin. That's a sacrifice
that falls on us to make. It's a much smaller
sacrifice than the Moses generation had to
make, but it's still a sacrifice.
Yes, it's hard to transition to a clean energy
economy. Sometimes it may be inconvenient,
but it's a sacrifice that we have to make.
It's hard to be fiscally responsible when
we have all these human needs, and we're inheriting
enormous deficits and debt, but that's a sacrifice
that we're going to have to make. You know,
it's easy, after a hard day's work, to just
put your kid in front of the TV set -- you're
tired, don't want to fuss with them -- instead
of reading to them, but that's a sacrifice
we must joyfully accept.
Sometimes it's hard to be a good father and
good mother. Sometimes it's hard to be a good
neighbor, or a good citizen, to give up time
in service of others, to give something of
ourselves to a cause that's greater than ourselves
 -- as Michelle and I are urging folks to
do tomorrow to honor and celebrate Dr. King.
But these are sacrifices that we are called
to make. These are sacrifices that our faith
calls us to make. Our faith in the future.
Our faith in America. Our faith in God.
And on his sermon all those years ago, Dr.
King quoted a poet's verse:
Truth forever on the scaffold
Wrong forever on the throne...
And behind the dim unknown stands God
Within the shadows keeping watch above his
own.
Even as Dr. King stood in this church, a victory
in the past and uncertainty in the future,
he trusted God. He trusted that God would
make a way. A way for prayers to be answered.
A way for our union to be perfected. A way
for the arc of the moral universe, no matter
how long, to slowly bend towards truth and
bend towards freedom, to bend towards justice.
He had faith that God would make a way out
of no way.
You know, folks ask me sometimes why I look
so calm. (Laughter.) They say, all this stuff
coming at you, how come you just seem calm?
And I have a confession to make here. There
are times where I'm not so calm. (Laughter.)
Reggie Love knows. My wife knows. There are
times when progress seems too slow. There
are times when the words that are spoken about
me hurt. There are times when the barbs sting.
There are times when it feels like all these
efforts are for naught, and change is so painfully
slow in coming, and I have to confront my
own doubts.
But let me tell you -- during those times
it's faith that keeps me calm. (Applause.)
It's faith that gives me peace. The same faith
that leads a single mother to work two jobs
to put a roof over her head when she has doubts.
The same faith that keeps an unemployed father
to keep on submitting job applications even
after he's been rejected a hundred times.
The same faith that says to a teacher even
if the first nine children she's teaching
she can't reach, that that 10th one she's
going to be able to reach. The same faith
that breaks the silence of an earthquake's
wake with the sound of prayers and hymns sung
by a Haitian community. A faith in things
not seen, in better days ahead, in Him who
holds the future in the hollow of His hand.
A faith that lets us mount up on wings like
eagles; lets us run and not be weary; lets
us walk and not faint.
So let us hold fast to that faith, as Joshua
held fast to the faith of his fathers, and
together, we shall overcome the challenges
of a new age. (Applause.) Together, we shall
seize the promise of this moment. Together,
we shall make a way through winter, and we're
going to welcome the spring. Through God all
things are possible. (Applause.)
May the memory of Dr. Martin Luther King continue
to inspire us and ennoble our world and all
who inhabit it. And may God bless the United
States of America. Thank you very much, everybody.
God bless you. (Applause.)
