Waiting . . . again.

Irene got in the way this past weekend, disappointingly postponing the dedication of the monument on the National Mall to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

But there must be a silver lining, and perhaps one benefit is that her visit lengthens out the celebration and conversation about the monument, the man and the work that we must all be in the thick of.

We, the nation, promised universal freedom nearly 150 years ago, but later and indirectly postponed it for the convenience of those, who in profound self-deception and mocking and hypocritical freedom, never wanted to grant it to all men in the first place. It had been implied that men and women paradoxically born or sold into the institution of American slavery were by their creator born and made free, yet for centuries they suffered without the protection and rights inherently theirs by divine heritage and decree. President Lincoln spoke of "four score and seven years ago," Dr. King added  "five score years ago," and now its been two score and eight years more, and all Americans nominally have legal freedom, but we are still quick to categorize ourselves into groups, excluding all who are not like us in some falsely perceived "important" way—race, economic status, educational attainment, sports team supported, school attended, type of clothes worn, religion.

Our great challenge today is beyond mere legal equality: It is, in spite of our physical sight, to see beyond the visible world: We can no longer see men and women for their exterior complexion, their wealth or lack of it, their education or lack of it, their beauty or lack of it, their intelligence or lack of it. We must instead see each person as a member of the family of all mankind with a divine nature, each a child of a loving God who plays no favorites, and who will surely hold each of us responsible for our treatment of each of his children.

No favorites. Universal mercy. Universal kindness. They should do the trick, but it will probably take a few more score of years.