From the editor: In his 1959 sermon "Shattered Dreams," written three years after the successful Montgomery bus boycott as he anticipated even greater challenges ahead, the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. reminded his congregation at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church that "very few, if any, of us are able to see all of our hopes fulfilled." Describing the allegorical painting Hope by the English Symbolist artist George Frederic Watts—reproduced on the cover of this issue—King noted that Watts "depicts Hope as seated atop our planet, but her head is sadly bowed and her fingers are plucking one unbroken harp string." Without having to spell out whose dreams he was referring to, King asked, "Who has not had to face the agony of blasted hopes and shattered dreams?"
Enigmatic as the allegorical image might seem, the simple fact that the blindfolded figure continues to pluck on the remaining string was clearly not lost on King. Indeed, it is central to the point his sermon builds to (in words hauntingly prefiguring those of his 1968 Memphis "I've Been to the Mountaintop" speech): "Of course some of us will die having not received the promise of freedom. But we must continue to move on. On the one hand we must accept the finite disappointment, but in spite of this we must maintain the infinite hope. This is the only way that we will be able to live without the fatigue of bitterness and the drain of resentment."
Infinite hope, hope against hope, is nothing less than what the great Christian thinker Søren Kierkegaard understood as authentic hope. By contrast with worldly hopes that focus on transitory goods such as success and happiness, authentic hope is nothing less than the will to live in faithful relation to the ideal of eternal and unchanging Good. To live without such hope, the Sage of Copenhagen held, is not only to live in despair but to abandon the task of becoming a self, a true individual.
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