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It's one of the greatest speeches about work ever made in this country—a country that celebrates and honors hard work more than most. In 1957, a young and unknown preacher gave the speech in Montgomery, Alabama, and the subject was the dignity of work. The meaning, purpose, dignity and divine nature of work. And the power of work to change lives. Our own and the people we serve.
It's known as "the Street Sweeper Speech," and it was more than rhetoric that a young Martin Luther King Jr. was deploying that day—and more than self-help or career advice. He was dispensing wisdom for the ages and addressing work as a matter not merely of life and death but of the soul. The source of his inspiration was the Bible itself. And God himself.
King's epic speech was divided into what he called the three dimensions of life: length, breadth and height. He began with the subject of life's length. "After we've discovered what God called us to do, after we've discovered our life's work, we should set out to do that work so well that the living, the dead or the unborn couldn't do it any better," King told the crowd.
"What I'm saying to you this morning, my friends, even if it falls your lot to be a street sweeper, go on out and sweep streets like Michelangelo painted pictures; sweep streets like Handel and Beethoven composed music; sweep streets like Shakespeare wrote poetry; sweep streets so well that all the host of heaven and earth will have to pause and say, 'Here lived a great street sweeper who swept his job well,'" King cried out, nearly singing the remarkable prose.
King was just getting started, but what he was saying is as relevant today as it was in 1957: Worry less about doing what you love and worry more about loving what you do.
King was just getting going on the subject. "If you can't be a pine on the top of a hill, be a scrub in the valley—but the best little scrub on the side of the hill," he said. "Be a bush if you can't be a tree. If you can't be a highway, be a trail. If you can't be the sun, be a star. It isn't by size that you win or fail—be the best of whatever you are."
King's clarion call for excellence is rarely heard in our pulpits, let alone our classrooms, today. His exhortation to do our jobs with all of our heart and soul seems unfashionable now. Or simply uncool. But not to King, who had greater things on his mind—and a higher power in mind—when he gave his speech.
He then pivoted from what he called the length of life to its breadth:
There will be a day, [and] the question won't be "How many awards did you get in life?" Not that day. It won't be "How popular were you in your social setting?" That won't be the question that day. It will not ask how many degrees you've been able to get. The question that day will not be concerned with whether you are a Ph.D. or a no D. It will not be concerned with whether you went to Morehouse or whether you went to No House. The question that day will not be "How beautiful is your house?" The question that day will not be "How much money did you accumulate? How much did you have in stocks and bonds?" The question that day will not be "What kind of automobile did you have?" On that day the question will be "What did you do for others?"
King continued with his theme of serving others. And, in doing so, properly loving others:
Now I can hear somebody saying, "Lord, I did a lot of things in life. I did my job well; the world honored me for doing my job. I did a lot of things, Lord; I went to school and studied hard. I accumulated a lot of money, Lord; that's what I did." It seems as if I can hear the Lord of Life saying, "But I was hungry, and ye fed me not. I was sick, and ye visited me not. I was naked, and ye clothed me not. I was in prison, and you weren't concerned about me. So get out of my face. What did you do for others?" This is the breadth of life.
As in his finest speeches and sermons—and as all great pastors do—King tied things together so the audience could grasp the true meaning and power of his message:
Go out this morning. Love yourself, and that means rational and healthy self-interest. You are commanded to do that. That's the length of life. Then follow that: Love your neighbor as you love yourself. You are commanded to do that. That's the breadth of life. And I'm going to take my seat now by letting you know that there's a first and even greater commandment: "Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, with all thy strength." I think the psychologist would just say with all thy personality. And when you do that, you've got the [height] of life. And when you get all three of these together, you can walk and never get weary. You can look up and see the morning stars singing together and the sons of God shouting for joy. When you get all of these working together in your very life, judgment will roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.
King would go on to become a fierce critic of capitalism, and he was assassinated in Memphis while giving a speech on behalf of the garbage haulers in the city. We have all witnessed what happened to towns across America that lost factories—towns like Youngstown, Ohio, and others, and the impact on families when work disappears. Capitalism is also the engine of work: Few other systems produce as many good and meaningful jobs—and more wealth and health—than the free enterprise system. And the tax base that provides for teachers, social workers, garbage haulers and police.
More work needs to be done to make certain good and meaningful jobs are abundant and that they pay living wages to the workers doing them. But a life without work is a life without meaning. A life without purpose and, as King noted in his speech, a life without dignity. Or a spark of the divine.
"Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!" Moses himself wrote in Psalm 90:17. The Reverend King would have most certainly concurred.
