Today’s #servantheart quote is, “A servant heart makes gentle the life of this world.” As such, I wanted to share a few thots on the nature of leadership’s gentleness. What follows is the relevant text of a comment I recently left on a Servant Hearts post by Monica Diaz. She, too, spoke of Gentle Leadership. In her gracious words I found myself taken back to a time and place much in need of a strength of character capable of serving others with little or no thought of their own wants and desires, a time and place not unlike our own, a time and place much in need of the advice of the ancient Greeks.

Strength manifests itself in ways counter to our expectation. “Nothing is so strong as gentleness,” Ralph W. Sockman teaches us as he goes on to say, “nothing is so gentle as real strength.” We read of a similar sentiment in Han Suyin’s turn of phrase, “There is nothing stronger in the world than gentleness.” As we look back across time, we begin to discern, first hand, what Leo Rosten meant when he expressed, perhaps with some level of sadness, “I learned that it is the weak who are cruel, and that gentleness is to be expected only from the strong.”

It’s April 4, 1968. Senator Robert F. Kennedy had just began his campaign for the presidency a few weeks prior and was a front-running candidate of the Democratic Party. He is enroute to the Ghetto, one of the poorest areas of Indianapolis, Indiana. While on the plane, Robert received word that Dr Martin Luther King had been shot. Dr King dies before Robert Kennedy arrives in Indianapolis. Word of Dr King’s assassination had not yet been broadcast, and it fell to Robert Kennedy to inform the people of Indianapolis of this terrible news and the tragic loss to this country, indeed, to the world.

Robert Kennedy’s son, Max, who was three years old at the time of his own father’s assassination, later relates a remarkable story leading up to what has perhaps become one of the most poignant American speeches ever delivered. Driving into the Ghetto, Robert Kennedy’s police escort (and the car carrying Robert’s prepared speech) pulled away and refused to enter. Apparently, the Indianapolis chief of police warned Kennedy that the police could not provide adequate protection for the senator if the crowd were to riot, but Kennedy decided to speak to the crowd regardless. Standing on a podium mounted on flatbed truck in the midst of a very poor area of Indianapolis’ inner city, Kennedy spoke from his heart for just under five minutes.

He begins by telling them, “I have some very sad news for all of you, and, I think, sad news for all of our fellow citizens, and people who love peace all over the world; and that is that Martin Luther King was shot and was killed tonight in Memphis, Tennessee.”

Did you feel the empathy in his voice, his love for humanity? Robert’s speech continues to tug on the heart strings of all who understand a leader’s role is not to place oneself upon a pedastal but, rather, lift others within reach of dreams of their own. That night, many felt as though the dream they shared with Dr King had died too. Robert Kennedy, in the short span of five minutes, showed people not only in Indianapolis but the world over, that Dr King’s dream — our dream — remained alive and was still within reach of those who held it dear. He tells them (and us), “Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice between fellow human beings. He died in the cause of that effort.”

Love. Wisdom. Compassion for one another.

Near the end of his speech, Robert reminds the audience of Dr King’s efforts to “… replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand with compassion and love.” “What we need in the United States,” he tells them regarding this injustice against all people, “is not violence or lawlessness, but love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice towards those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or whether they be black.” Because our spirit of unity is at stake, Robert suggests we find the courage to “dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.”

Robert Kennedy understood what it means to lead with the heart of a servant. He easily could have justified the cancellation of his appearance. After all, Dr King’s death was sure to instill vengeful hearts certain to rise up in unimaginable anger and riot (more than 180 riots that night across our great land), the police chief admittedly could not protect him, and his prepared speech never arrived. Instead, Robert knew what he had to offer resided in his heart, and he knew American citizens in Indianapolis and elsewhere needed a leader they could trust, a shepherd of sorts, a gentle giant of a man who would help them stand firm on moral ground and reach, once again, for the dream that was within them. History records the impact of Robert’s leadership: Indianapolis was the only major city in America that did not riot that night. Such is the influence of a servant leader.

It seems to me our world desperately needs more servant hearts with the courage to stand against the status quo, realizing a leader’s first love is serving the wants, needs, dreams, and aspirations of others.

It is certain our world could use a lot more gentleness.