Wanting something is the wrong way to go about getting it done.
Nobody knew this like Reverend Charles Robert Moore. He wanted so many things. The ruling in Brown vs. The Board of Education ended legal segregation in the United States, and the young reverend was fired from his post for celebrating this in the most cautious sense from the pulpit. He would not make that mistake ever again, to be cautious in the face of injustice. He stood outside the governor’s mansion protesting the executions of 150 prisoners during Governor George Bush’s tenure. He defied the traditions and doctrine of the Methodist Church by opening the doors of his church to openly lesbian and gay citizens in Austin, TX. Being tolerated by the church was not enough for him though. To compel the church to own their responsibility for contributing to the suffering of these neighbors, he stopped eating, and on the 15th day of his fast the bishops acquiesced to his demand, which they did by public proclamation. His faith took him to India, Africa, the Middle East, Chicago, Austin, and ultimately back to his hometown of Grand Saline, Texas where his deepest memories of shame and inequality were born.
Reverend Moore made a mess of his life. All three of his marriages ended because he could not make room for the comfort and love of relationships that distracted from his desire for justice. His children suffered his absences.
At 79 years-old, in 2014, he was elated by the election of Barack Obama, the first and only black President of the United States, but the hatred and racism that accompanied the moment left him heart-sick and stricken with defeat. His lifetime of wanting had brought him nowhere. He was still in Grand Saline, Texas, a child unable to make a difference. Charlie Moore believed himself to be a coward, a failure, a loser.
On June 23rd of that year he drove to a strip mall on the edge of town in Grand Saline. He paced for hours in front of a Dollar General store, while curious watchers noticed him, musing about his intentions. They watched him as he finally opened his trunk, pulled a foam pad from it and placed it on the ground. Those watching assumed he must be praying, perhaps he was Muslim? He knelt and lifted a container above his head and doused himself completely.
As the fumes from the gasoline choked his breath away, he pulled from his pocket a lighter, and sparked it.
On the windshield of his car, he left a note explaining that Grand Saline’s history of violence against African-Americans included lynchings, burnings, and decapitations. The community never answered for those crimes, therefore he chose to join the victims in that fate, in hopes of changing some minds. He said he loved Grand Saline, where he was raised and loved by so many. He said he was heartbroken over Grand Saline’s, and America’s, lack of repentance for these crimes. He spent his life fighting to end the death penalty, and striving for equal rights for all, and nobody listened. Nobody cared.
You can call Reverend Moore many things, but not a coward, or a hypocrite.
Juancho