Almost forty years ago, as a boy, I climbed the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. and stood before the massive statue of Abraham Lincoln. Then I turned and read on the walls of the Memorial the words of the Gettysburg and Second Inaugural Addresses. I was especially taken by the Gettysburg Address and vowed to learn it by heart, as soon as I returned home. I can still recite most of it today.

In the midst of the carnage of the Civil War, Lincoln urged the living to rededicate their lives to the great unfinished work begun in a "nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men [people] are created equal." He asked for increased devotion to the cause for which so many had given their lives: "that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

Lincoln's resolve cost him his life. However, his challenge lives on; as I went through the motions of saying the Pledge of Allegiance at school and praying to God in church, it took hold in the depths of my soul.

Twelve years later his words took on new meaning when, as a civil rights worker, I sang freedom songs and spirituals in the rural churches of Mississippi. It was in these same churches that the call of Jesus became clear and compelling. I returned from the South to prepare for the Christian ministry. However, as I studied the Bible and church history, I continued to work for civil rights. I marched for open housing in Chicago with Martin Luther King, Jr. and, because of my commitment to nonviolent love, I opposed the war in Vietnam.

In 1969 I accepted a call to a small, suburban church where I tried to develop both a pastoral and prophetic ministry. I spoke out from the pulpit and in public, in support of civil rights and in opposition to the war in Vietnam. After several members left the church and revenues fell, I began to see that I was failing to communicate my faith. I left the church with the realization that I had a long way to go before I made sense of Christ and Lincoln, grace and freedom, salvation and civil rights.

A year of teaching in Japan left me pondering the peace I experienced while meditating in Buddhist temples. And two years of living in community at Grailville, a Roman Catholic retreat center, introduced me to contemplative prayer in the Christian tradition, the mass, and the saints. I continued to probe my heritage as a law student. I organized a "Hired Gun" seminar to reflect on ethical issues in the practice of law. And in a course on international law, I became aware of human rights law but failed to comprehend its global impact.

Once admitted to the bar, I renewed my effort to realize the biblical and democratic imperatives of our tradition. For ten years I organized nonprofit corporations to help people secure adequate housing, food, and health care. I was elected to the school board on a reform platform. Later I ran for and nearly won a seat in the state senate. I spoke out against the death penalty, supported nuclear disarmament, and lobbied for economic justice—unpopular positions in my community.

In short, by the grace of God, I tried to live my faith, as a Christian and an American. I tried to embrace the life that Martin Luther King, Jr. affirmed in his "I Have a Dream" address before the Lincoln Memorial in 1963.

King described his dream as "deeply rooted in the American dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed—we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men [people] are created equal." He also described his dream in the imagery of biblical faith: "I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places shall be made plain, and the crooked places shall be made straight and the glory of the Lord will be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."

"With this faith," he proclaimed," we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. . .. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning—'my country 'tis of thee; sweet land of liberty; of thee I sing; land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride; from every mountain side, let freedom ring'. . . ."

"And when we allow freedom to ring," King concluded, "we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children . . . will be able to join hands and to sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last, free at last; thank God Almighty, we are free at last'."

I have fallen far short of the challenge raised by Lincoln and the call voiced by Jesus and the dream articulated by King. Yet, they are fundamental to my life and our heritage, and renew faith within me. The Spirit, like the wind, "blows where it will" (John 3:8). And so, despite the injustices and the tragedies of our time, I continue to trust in the love of God.

In a world shaped by different cultures and religious traditions, the ferment of faith is everywhere. There are many who have been called to realize justice and peace in community. Their convictions are rooted in diverse histories and traditions. Yet, as I have discovered through my research, they share a faith in freedom, democracy, and human rights.

What follows is my initial attempt to articulate this global faith. In addition, I am working with others to organize a global interfaith effort in support of human rights. We are calling all persons of good will: to act on a shared faith in freedom, democracy, and human rights to secure the conditions for human dignity, to join with women and men of different traditions in the struggle for justice and peace, and to ground action and reflection in our traditions of faith.

We are aware that the institutions of the faith communities of the world have often aided the social, economic, and political interests that violate human dignity. However, we are convinced that freedom, democracy, and human rights are and can be and must be rooted in the deepest convictions of our various cultures and traditions of faith, if we are to build a world community in which the differences among peoples are respected.

In the words of those gathered at the 1987 World Congress of the International Association for Religious Freedom: "We reaffirm the requirement laid upon us by our religious commitment to participate in work for peace, mutual understanding, human rights and the alleviation of suffering. We pledge our cooperation at all levels with those who are working for these goals out of a personal commitment which may be other than ours."

In the development of this effort, as in the writing of this book, I am indebted to many people. The work of Robert Bellah long ago challenged me to bring together in my thinking what in Habits of the Hearts he refers to as the biblical and republican traditions of America. And I am mindful of his counsel that emphasizing rights may reinforce the individualistic bias in American life that works against the creation of a good society.

Harold Berman's brief book, The Interaction of Law and Religion, inspired me while I was still in law school to pursue related questions of theology and jurisprudence. The writings of Wilfred Cantwell Smith have shaped my understanding of faith and the religious traditions of the world, and critical comments by Mark Juergensmeyer, John Coleman, and James Gordley have been extremely helpful.

Frank Newman's dogged determination, to make sure that the law helps people, continues to move me; and the proddings of Hugh White and Harlan Stelmach have kept me working on the problems that remain in translating this faith into action. The faith of the women of the Grail, the patient counsel of my wife, Nancy, and the understanding of my five children have been a constant reminder of the power and mystery of love.

What follows, of course, is my responsibility and not theirs. However, I am deeply grateful for the continuing guidance and inspiration that I have received from so many. Finally, I give thanks for the life and witness of Martin Luther King, Jr., who more than any other contemporary person, has shown me the way.

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1 in Faith: A Christian Bible Study † Copyright © 2000 by Robert Traer