"We keep on winning!" The crowd thundered its approval and Jesse smiled. It was May 3, primary election night in the District of Columbia, and Jesse Jackson had just won 80 percent of the vote. The winning candidate arrived at the victory party about 11 p.m., and the people were ready to hear him speak.
The results that day from Indiana and Ohio showing 20 to 30 percent of the vote for Jackson didn't seem to matter to anyone in the hotel ballroom. In preacher's cadence, Jesse ran through a state-by-state litany of victories and strong showings throughout the primaries. "We keep on winning!" was his repeated refrain.
Jesse Jackson is winning. Indeed, in many ways, he has already won, no matter what the outcome at the Democratic Convention. "When I consider where we started," said Jesse, "I feel no ways tired." Those words from an old black spiritual put a political speech and an election campaign into a much broader historical perspective. "This did not begin in Iowa and will not end in Atlanta," he went on. "It began at the back of a bus in Montgomery and has carried us to the steps of the White House."
The presidential campaign of Jesse Jackson has been about what the agenda of America should be -- more so than any of his white competitors in either party who struggle to make their messages clear and their personalities distinct. In fact, the Jackson campaign has already altered the national agenda; something his opponents haven't begun to do.
Jesse's agenda has caused the other candidates to shift their agendas in his direction and has already created a discernible shift in the country's political winds. "Our agenda is winning," he told the cheering throng in Washington, D.C. "Ours is a struggle for the direction of the party and the soul of the nation."
The familiar phrases of the Jackson sermon heard around the country this year were preached again that night -- "from racial battleground, to economic common ground, to moral higher ground." To watch Jesse Jackson in 1988 is to see a campaign and a candidate and a country -- all growing. "We keep getting better," he says. "We're making America better." When he says it, you can tell he believes it, as does everyone in the room. "Keep getting better, never bitter," the preacher exhorts his congregation.
Drugs, jobs, and children are Jesse's themes that strike American heartstrings. "Fair prices for farmers, fair wages for workers, fair taxes for everybody," he proclaims. "Let's have a new foreign policy, not 'foreign to our values,'" he says, and one that "measures human rights everywhere by the same yardstick."
Simple ideas, but not simplistic ones, that are articulated with fire and hope and are forging a heretofore only dreamed-of multiracial coalition committed to real change. "My commitment to change is not veiled -- it's clear," admits Jesse.
THE WORST PART of living in Washington, D.C., for me, is the "Washington" part; the best is "D.C." -- the District of Columbia. I have often written about the two as a tale of two cities.
The stark contrasts between the Washington power center and the black neighborhoods of the District were dramatically revealed again at Jesse's victory party. The professional and conventional wisdom of Washington's political and media establishments constantly warn how Jesse Jackson would bring down the Democratic ticket. "What does Jesse want?" is their ongoing question. Will the Democratic power structure be able to accommodate his demands without rending the party? And, most important, how can Jesse Jackson help the Democrats to win in November?
In the District, people also want to win the fall elections, having suffered more than most under eight years of Republican rule. Yet they know they are involved in a long-term struggle, not just a political campaign -- a struggle for freedom, justice, dignity, and for their very survival. It is a struggle that has always awakened their deepest spiritual resources. It was clear on May 3 that the people of the District of Columbia realize the campaign of Jesse Jackson is powerfully advancing that struggle.
One of the nicest things about living in a city with a black majority is how different our voting results always are from the rest of the country. We all know that is the real reason the Congress won't give us voting representation. What a feeling it was to know that my vote wouldn't even be needed to ensure a Jackson victory. Nevertheless, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to vote for Jesse.
The victory was sweet that night, and all those who gathered to celebrate it felt a special connection to each other and to a long, historical process. Other speakers recalled stories from Birmingham and from Resurrection City and invoked the memory of Martin Luther King Jr. who, they said, was certainly smiling on us tonight.
The evening ended, as all good church services do, with a song, a gospel melody called "We Are One." Though the hour was late and the election day long, the faithful joined hands to sing. "Red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in God's sight," cried the preacher. Then another chant began: "Keep hope alive, ever better, never bitter."
"We are one," sang the crowd, now with hands in the air. The candidate smiled. "We keep on winning every day."
Jim Wallis is editor-in-chief of Sojourners.

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