There we were, souls and bodies packed into a Texas church on the last night of our lives. Packed into a room just like this, but with creaky wooden pews draped in worn-down red fabric, with an organ to my left and a choir at my back and a baptism pool built into the wall behind them. A room like this, nonetheless. With the same great feelings of suspense, the same deep hopes for salvation, the same sweat in the palms and the same people in the back not paying attention.
Eto nas, duše i tela natrpana u crkvi u Teksasu, poslednje noći naših života. Natrpani u prostoriji nalik ovoj, ali sa škripavim drvenim klupama presvučenim izlizanom crvenom tkaninom; orgulje su mi s desne strane, a hor mi je iza leđa i krstionica je ugrađena u zid iza njih. Prostorija poput ove, u svakom slučaju. S istim snažnim osećanjem neizvesnosti, istog dubokog pouzdanja u spas, istog znoja na dlanovima, i s istim ljudima u pozadini koji ne obraćaju pažnju.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
This was December 31, 1999, the night of the Second Coming of Christ, and the end of the world as I knew it. I had turned 12 that year and had reached the age of accountability. And once I stopped complaining about how unfair it was that Jesus would return as soon as I had to be accountable for all that I had done, I figured I had better get my house in order very quickly.
Bio je 31. decembar 1999. noć Hristovog drugog silaska i kraj poznatog sveta. Te godine sam napunio 12 godina i dosegao sam doba odgovornosti. I čim sam prestao da se žalim zbog toga koliko je nepravedno što se Isus vraća istog trena kad sam ja postao odgovoran za sve što sam uradio, shvatio sam da bi mi bolje bilo da se brzo dovedem u red.
So I went to church as often as I could. I listened for silence as anxiously as one might listen for noise, trying to be sure that the Lord hadn't pulled a fast one on me and decided to come back early.
Pa sam odlazio u crkvu što sam češće mogao. Osluškivao sam tišinu s nestrpljenjem, kao što neki slušaju buku, pokušavajući da budem siguran da me Gospod neće preduhitriti i odlučiti da dođe ranije.
And just in case he did, I built a backup plan, by reading the "Left Behind" books that were all the rage at the time. And I found in their pages that if I was not taken in the rapture at midnight, I had another shot. All I had to do was avoid taking the mark of the beast, fight off demons, plagues and the Antichrist himself. It would be hard --
A u slučaju da to uradi, napravio sam rezervni plan, čitajući knjige "Izostavljeni" za kojima je tada vladala pomama. I saznao sam na tim stranicama da ako se ne vaznesem u zanosu u ponoć, imam još jednu priliku. Sve što je potrebno je da izbegavam primanje pečata zveri, da odagnam demone, kugu i samog Antihrista. Biće teško -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
but I knew I could do it.
ali znao sam da to mogu.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
But planning time was over now. It was 11:50pm. We had 10 minutes left, and my pastor called us out of the pews and down to the altar because he wanted to be praying when midnight struck. So every faction of the congregation took its place. The choir stayed in the choir stand, the deacons and their wives -- or the Baptist Bourgeoisie as I like to call them --
No vreme planiranja beše gotovo. Bilo je 23:50. Preostalo je 10 minuta, a moj pastor nas je pozvao da izađemo iz klupa pred oltar jer je želeo da izgovara molitvu kad ponoć zakuca. Pa je svaki član pastve zauzeo svoje mesto. Hor je ostao na pevalištu, đakoni i njihove žene - iliti baptistička buržoazija, kako volim da ih zovem -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
took first position in front of the altar. You see, in America, even the Second Coming of Christ has a VIP section.
zauzeli su prva mesta pred oltarom. Vidite, u Americi, čak i drugi Hristov silazak ima VIP odeljak.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
And right behind the Baptist Bourgeoisie were the elderly -- these men and women whose young backs had been bent under hot suns in the cotton fields of East Texas, and whose skin seemed to be burnt a creaseless noble brown, just like the clay of East Texas, and whose hopes and dreams for what life might become outside of East Texas had sometimes been bent and broken even further than their backs.
A odmah iza baptističke buržoazije su bili stariji - ovi muškarci i žene čija su se mlada pleća poginjala pod vrelim suncem na poljima pamuka u Istočnom Teksasu i čija je koža, kako se činilo, potamnila u besprekornu plemenitu smeđu, baš poput ilovače iz Istočnog Teksasa i čije su nade i snovi o tome kakav bi život bio van Istočnog Teksasa, ponekad poginjani i slamani i više od njihovih leđa.
Yes, these men and women were the stars of the show for me. They had waited their whole lives for this moment, just as their medieval predecessors had longed for the end of the world, and just as my grandmother waited for the Oprah Winfrey Show to come on Channel 8 every day at 4 o'clock. And as she made her way to the altar, I snuck right in behind her, because I knew for sure that my grandmother was going to heaven. And I thought that if I held on to her hand during this prayer, I might go right on with her.
Da, ovi muškarci i žene su za mene bili zvezde ove predstave. Čekali su čitav svoj život na ovaj trenutak, baš kao što su njihovi srednjovekovni preci žudeli za krajem sveta i baš kao što je moja baka čekala na emisiju Opre Vinfri da počne na Kanalu 8 svakog dana u 16 sati. I kako je prilazila oltaru, prišunjao sam se tik iza nje jer sam bio siguran da će moja baka da ode u raj. I mislio sam da ako se držim za njenu ruku tokom molitve, možda ću otići direktno s njom.
So I held on and I closed my eyes to listen, to wait. And the prayers got louder. And the shouts of response to the call of the prayer went up higher even still. And the organ rolled on in to add the dirge. And the heat came on to add to the sweat. And my hand gripped firmer, so I wouldn't be the one left in the field. My eyes clenched tighter so I wouldn't see the wheat being separated from the chaff. And then a voice rang out above us: "Amen."
Pa sam se držao i zatvorio sam oči da bih osluškivao, da bih čekao. A molitve su postale glasnije. A odgovori koje su izvikivali na poziv iz molitve su postajali još glasniji. I orgulje su zagrmele kako bi pojačale tugovanku. I toplota dođe da bi dodala znoj. Stiskao sam ruku sve jače, kako ne bih bio ostavljen na polju. Stiskao sam oči jače da ne bih video kako se žito odvaja od kukolja. A onda je glas zazvonio iznad nas: "Amin".
It was over. I looked at the clock. It was after midnight. I looked at the elder believers whose savior had not come, who were too proud to show any signs of disappointment, who had believed too much and for too long to start doubting now. But I was upset on their behalf. They had been duped, hoodwinked, bamboozled, and I had gone right along with them. I had prayed their prayers, I had yielded not to temptation as best I could. I had dipped my head not once, but twice in that snot-inducing baptism pool. I had believed. Now what?
Bilo je gotovo. Pogledao sam na sat. Bila je prošla ponoć. Pogledao sam u starije vernike čiji spasitelj nije došao, koji su bili suviše ponosni da bi pokazali znake razočaranja, koji su verovali isuviše mnogo i isuviše dugo da bi sada počeli da sumnjaju. Ali ja sam bio ljut u njihovo ime. Nasamareni su, izigrani, prevareni, a ja sam pristao za njima, Izgovarao sam njihove molitve, odupirao sam se iskušenju što sam bolje mogao. Umočio sam glavu, ne jednom, već dva puta u tu krstionicu koja izaziva sline na nos. Verovao sam. Šta sad?
I got home just in time to turn on the television and watch Peter Jennings announce the new millennium as it rolled in around the world. It struck me that it would have been strange anyway, for Jesus to come back again and again based on the different time zones.
Vratio sam se kući na vreme da uključim televizor i gledam Pitera Dženingsa kako najavljuje novi milenijum kako je započinjao širom sveta. Palo mi je na pamet da bi ionako bilo čudno da Isus silazi iznova i iznova zbog različitih vremenskih zona.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
And this made me feel even more ridiculous -- hurt, really. But there on that night, I did not stop believing. I just believed a new thing: that it was possible not to believe. It was possible the answers I had were wrong, that the questions themselves were wrong. And now, where there was once a mountain of certitude, there was, running right down to its foundation, a spring of doubt, a spring that promised rivers.
A zbog toga sam se osećao još smešnije - povređeno, zaista. Ali te noći nisam prestao da verujem. Samo sam verovao u nešto novo: da je moguće ne verovati. Moguće je da su odgovori koje sam znao bili pogrešni, da su sama pitanja pogrešna. A sad, gde je nekad stajala planina ubeđenosti, skroz do njenih temelja se slivao potok sumnje, potok koji je obećavao reke.
I can trace the whole drama of my life back to that night in that church when my savior did not come for me; when the thing I believed most certainly turned out to be, if not a lie, then not quite the truth. And even though most of you prepared for Y2K in a very different way, I'm convinced that you are here because some part of you has done the same thing that I have done since the dawn of this new century, since my mother left and my father stayed away and my Lord refused to come. And I held out my hand, reaching for something to believe in.
Mogao bih čitavu dramu svog života da dovedem u vezu s tom noći u toj crkvi kad moj spasitelj nije došao po mene; kada se ono u što sam najviše verovao ispostavilo da je, ako ne laž, onda nije baš ni istina. I iako se većina vas pripremala za 2000. veoma drugačije, ubeđen sam da ste ovde jer je neki delić vas učinio isto što i ja od praskozorja ovog novog veka, otkad me je majka napustila, a otac se držao po strani i moj Gospod je odbio da dođe. Pa sam ispružio ruku, posežući za nečim u šta ću da verujem.
I held on when I arrived at Yale at 18, with the faith that my journey from Oak Cliff, Texas was a chance to leave behind all the challenges I had known, the broken dreams and broken bodies I had seen. But when I found myself back home one winter break, with my face planted in the floor, my hands tied behind my back and a burglar's gun pressed to my head, I knew that even the best education couldn't save me.
Posezao sam za tim, stigavši sa 18 godina na Jejl, s verom da je moje putovanje iz Oak Klifa u Teksasu bilo prilika da ostavim za sobom sve izazove koje sam znao, srušene snove i urušena tela koja sam video. Ali kad sam se zatekao kod kuće, jedne zime na raspustu, lica zalepljenog za pod, ruku vezanih iza leđa a provalnikov pištolj mi je pritiskao glavu, znao sam da me ni najbolje obrazovanje ne može spasiti.
I held on when I showed up at Lehman Brothers as an intern in 2008.
Posezao sam za tim kad sam se pojavio u Liman Bradersu kao pripravnik 2008.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
So hopeful --
Tako pun nade -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
that I called home to inform my family that we'd never be poor again.
da sam nazvao svoje kod kuće da im kažem da više nećemo biti siromašni.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
But as I witnessed this temple of finance come crashing down before my eyes, I knew that even the best job couldn't save me.
No gledajući kako se ovaj finansijski hram ruši pred mojim očima, znao sam da me ni najbolji posao ne može spasiti.
I held on when I showed up in Washington DC as a young staffer, who had heard a voice call out from Illinois, saying, "It's been a long time coming, but in this election, change has come to America." But as the Congress ground to a halt and the country ripped at the seams and hope and change began to feel like a cruel joke, I knew that even the political second coming could not save me.
Posezao sam za tim kad sam se pojavio u Vašingtonu kao mladi državni uposlenik koji je čuo glas kako pozivaše iz Ilinoisa rečima: "Dugo je vremena prošlo, ali na ovim izborima promena je stigla u Ameriku." No kako se kongres nasukao na tlo, a zemlja se raspadala po šavovima a nada i promena su počele da zvuče kao okrutan vic, znao sam da me čak ni drugi politički dolazak ne može spasiti.
I had knelt faithfully at the altar of the American Dream, praying to the gods of my time of success, and money, and power. But over and over again, midnight struck, and I opened my eyes to see that all of these gods were dead.
S verom sam klekao na oltar američkog sna, moleći se bogovima svog vremena: uspehu, novcu i moći. Ali iznova i iznova ponoć je kucala i ja sam otvarao oči, uviđajući da su svi ti bogovi mrtvi.
And from that graveyard, I began the search once more, not because I was brave, but because I knew that I would either believe or I would die.
A iz tog groblja, krenuo sam ponovo u potragu, ne jer sam bio hrabar, već zato što sam znao da ću da verujem ili da umrem.
So I took a pilgrimage to yet another mecca, Harvard Business School --
Pa sam krenuo na hodočašće ka još jednoj Meki, Poslovnoj školi na Harvardu -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
this time, knowing that I could not simply accept the salvation that it claimed to offer. No, I knew there'd be more work to do.
ovaj put znajući da ne mogu prosto da prihvatim spas koji tvrde da mi nude. Ne, znao sam da će tu biti još mnogo da se radi.
The work began in the dark corner of a crowded party, in the late night of an early, miserable Cambridge winter, when three friends and I asked a question that young folks searching for something real have asked for a very long time: "What if we took a road trip?"
Delanje je počelo u mračnom uglu žurke pune ljudi, u kasnu noć rane, bedne kembridžke zime, kada smo se tri prijatelja i ja zapitali nešto što se mladi ljudi pitaju, tragajući za nečim stvarnim već dugo vremena: "Šta ako bismo pošli na putovanje?"
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
We didn't know where'd we go or how we'd get there, but we knew we had to do it. Because all our lives we yearned, as Jack Kerouac wrote, to "sneak out into the night and disappear somewhere," and go find out what everybody was doing all over the country. So even though there were other voices who said that the risk was too great and the proof too thin, we went on anyhow.
Nismo znali kuda ćemo ići ili kako ćemo tamo stići, no znali smo da moramo to da učinimo. Jer smo čitavog svog života žudeli, kako je Džek Keruak napisao: "da se iskrademo po noći i nestanemo negde", i da otkrijemo šta svi ostali rade širom države. Pa, iako su nam drugi glasovi govorili da je rizik prevelik, a dokaz suviše slab, svejedno smo krenuli.
We went on 8,000 miles across America in the summer of 2013, through the cow pastures of Montana, through the desolation of Detroit, through the swamps of New Orleans, where we found and worked with men and women who were building small businesses that made purpose their bottom line. And having been trained at the West Point of capitalism, this struck us as a revolutionary idea.
Prešli smo oko 13000 kilometara duž Amerike, u leto 2013, kroz kravlje pašnjake Montane, kroz pustoš Detroita, kroz močvare Nju Orleansa, gde smo zatekli muškarce i žene i radili s njima, koji su osnivali male firme čija je svrha bila osnovna dobit. I kako sam obučen na Vest Pointu kapitalizma, ovo mi se učinilo kao revolucionarna ideja.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
And this idea spread, growing into a nonprofit called MBAs Across America, a movement that landed me here on this stage today. It spread because we found a great hunger in our generation for purpose, for meaning. It spread because we found countless entrepreneurs in the nooks and crannies of America who were creating jobs and changing lives and who needed a little help.
A ova ideja se širila, prerastajući u neprofitnu organizaciju po imenu MBA-ovi širom Amerike, pokret koji me je smestio danas ovde na ovu scenu. Širio se jer smo u našoj generaciji otkrili veliku glad za svrhom, za smislom. Širila se jer smo otkrili bezbroj preduzetnika u američkim zapećcima i pukotinama koji su stvarali poslove i menjali živote i kojima je trebala mala pomoć.
But if I'm being honest, it also spread because I fought to spread it. There was no length to which I would not go to preach this gospel, to get more people to believe that we could bind the wounds of a broken country, one social business at a time. But it was this journey of evangelism that led me to the rather different gospel that I've come to share with you today.
Ali, ako ćemo iskreno, takođe se širila jer sam se ja borio za to. Nema kuda ne bih pošao da propovedam ovo jevanđelje, da navedem što više ljudi da poveruju da možemo uvezati rane povređene države, jednim po jednim društvenim preduzećem. Ali me je ovo jevanđelističko putovanje dovelo do nešto drugačijeg jevanđelja koje sam došao da podelim danas s vama.
It began one evening almost a year ago at the Museum of Natural History in New York City, at a gala for alumni of Harvard Business School. Under a full-size replica of a whale, I sat with the titans of our time as they celebrated their peers and their good deeds. There was pride in a room where net worth and assets under management surpassed half a trillion dollars. We looked over all that we had made, and it was good.
Začelo se jedne večeri pre skoro godinu dana u Muzeju prirodnjačke istorije u Njujorku, na gali za bivše studente Poslovne škole na Harvardu. Ispod replike kita u prirodnoj veličini, sedeo sam s titanima našeg doba, dok su slavili svoje kolege i njihova dobra dela. Prostoriju je ispunjavao ponos gde su neto vrednost i dobra pod ovim menadžmentom prelazila pola biliona dolara. Tada pogledasmo sve što smo stvorili i, gle, dobro beše veoma.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
But it just so happened, two days later, I had to travel up the road to Harlem, where I found myself sitting in an urban farm that had once been a vacant lot, listening to a man named Tony tell me of the kids that showed up there every day. All of them lived below the poverty line. Many of them carried all of their belongings in a backpack to avoid losing them in a homeless shelter. Some of them came to Tony's program, called Harlem Grown, to get the only meal they had each day. Tony told me that he started Harlem Grown with money from his pension, after 20 years as a cab driver. He told me that he didn't give himself a salary, because despite success, the program struggled for resources. He told me that he would take any help that he could get. And I was there as that help.
Ali desilo se da sam dva dana kasnije morao da putujem gore u Harlem, gde sam se zatekao kako sedim na urbanoj farmi koja je nekad bila napušteni plac, slušajući kako mi čovek, po imenu Toni, govori o deci koja su tu dolazila svakodnevno. Sva su živela ispod granice siromaštva. Mnogi su nosili sve što su imali u rancu kako to ne bi izgubili u skloništu za beskućnike. Neki su dolazili kod Tonija u program, pod nazivom Harlem Grown, da bi dobili jedini obrok koji imaju svakog dana. Toni mi je rekao da je osnovao Harlem Grown novcem od penzije, nakon 20 godina provedenih taksirajući. Rekao mi je da sebi ne daje platu jer, uprkos uspehu, program je muku mučio s resursima. Rekao mi je da bi prihvatio bilo kakvu pomoć koja mu se ponudi. A ja sam bio tu da je ponudim.
But as I left Tony, I felt the sting and salt of tears welling up in my eyes. I felt the weight of revelation that I could sit in one room on one night, where a few hundred people had half a trillion dollars, and another room, two days later, just 50 blocks up the road, where a man was going without a salary to get a child her only meal of the day.
No, kako sam odlazio od Tonija osetio sam peckanje i so suza koje su mi navirale u očima. Osetio sam teret otkrovenja da sam mogao da sedim u jednoj prostoriji jedne noći, gde je nekoliko stotina ljudi posedovalo pola biliona dolara, a u drugoj prostoriji, dva dana kasnije, samo 50 blokova naviše, gde čovek radi bez plate kako bi obezbedio detetu jedini obrok u toku dana.
And it wasn't the glaring inequality that made me want to cry, it wasn't the thought of hungry, homeless kids, it wasn't rage toward the one percent or pity toward the 99. No, I was disturbed because I had finally realized that I was the dialysis for a country that needed a kidney transplant. I realized that my story stood in for all those who were expected to pick themselves up by their bootstraps, even if they didn't have any boots; that my organization stood in for all the structural, systemic help that never went to Harlem or Appalachia or the Lower 9th Ward; that my voice stood in for all those voices that seemed too unlearned, too unwashed, too unaccommodated.
I nije me silina nejednakosti terala na plač, nije to bila pomisao na gladnu decu bez domova, nije to bio bes prema jednom procentu, ili sažaljenje prema 99 procenata. Ne, bio sam uznemiren jer sam konačno shvatio da sam bio dijaliza za državu kojoj je potrebna transplatacija bubrega. Shvatio sam da je moja priča zauzimala mesto svima onima od kojih se očekivalo da se usprave uz pomoć petlji na čizmama, čak iako uopšte nisu imali čizme; da se moja organizacija zauzimala za svu strukturalnu, sistematsku pomoć koja nikad nije stizala do Harlema ili Apalačije ili Donjeg IX Varda; da je moj glas zauzimao mesto svim tim glasovima koji su se činili suviše neukim, suviše neopranim, bez ikakvog smeštaja.
And the shame of that, that shame washed over me like the shame of sitting in front of the television, watching Peter Jennings announce the new millennium again and again and again. I had been duped, hoodwinked, bamboozled. But this time, the false savior was me.
A sram od toga, taj sram me je preplavio kao sram kad sam sedeo ispred televizora, gledajući Pitera Dženingsa dok najavljuje novi milenijum iznova i iznova i iznova. Nasamaren sam, izigran, prevaren. Ali ovog puta, lažni spasitelj sam bio ja.
You see, I've come a long way from that altar on the night I thought the world would end, from a world where people spoke in tongues and saw suffering as a necessary act of God and took a text to be infallible truth. Yes, I've come so far that I'm right back where I started.
Vidite, prešao sam dug put od tog oltara, te noći kad sam mislio da će svetu doći kraj, od sveta u kom su ljudi govorili koještarije i na patnju gledali kao neophodnu božju datost i uzimali su spise kao nepogrešivu istinu. Da, toliko sam se odmakao da sam tačno tamo odakle sam krenuo.
Because it simply is not true to say that we live in an age of disbelief -- no, we believe today just as much as any time that came before. Some of us may believe in the prophecy of Brené Brown or Tony Robbins. We may believe in the bible of The New Yorker or the Harvard Business Review. We may believe most deeply when we worship right here at the church of TED, but we desperately want to believe, we need to believe. We speak in the tongues of charismatic leaders that promise to solve all our problems. We see suffering as a necessary act of the capitalism that is our god, we take the text of technological progress to be infallible truth. And we hardly realize the human price we pay when we fail to question one brick, because we fear it might shake our whole foundation.
Jer prosto nije istina kad se kaže da živimo u dobu neverovanja - ne, danas verujemo isto koliko smo i prethodnih epoha. Neki od nas možda veruju u proročanstvo Brene Braun ili Tonija Robinsa. Možda verujemo u bibliju "Njujorker" ili "Harvard Biznis Rivju". Možda verujemo najpredanije kada obavljamo službu baš ovde u crkvi TED-a, ali očajnički želimo da verujemo, potrebno nam je da verujemo. Govorimo koještarije harizmatičnih vođa koji obećavaju da će da nam reše sve probleme. Gledamo na patnju kao neophodnu datost kapitalizma koji je naš bog, uzimamo spise tehnološkog napretka kao nepobitnu istinu. A skoro nikad nismo svesni ljudske cene koju plaćamo kad ne dovedemo u pitanje makar jedan element jer se plašimo da bi to uzdrmalo naše celokupne temelje.
But if you are disturbed by the unconscionable things that we have come to accept, then it must be questioning time. So I have not a gospel of disruption or innovation or a triple bottom line. I do not have a gospel of faith to share with you today, in fact. I have and I offer a gospel of doubt. The gospel of doubt does not ask that you stop believing, it asks that you believe a new thing: that it is possible not to believe. It is possible the answers we have are wrong, it is possible the questions themselves are wrong. Yes, the gospel of doubt means that it is possible that we, on this stage, in this room, are wrong. Because it raises the question, "Why?" With all the power that we hold in our hands, why are people still suffering so bad?
Ali ako vas uznemiravaju beskrupulozne stvari koje smo naučili da prihvatamo, onda mora da je došlo vreme za preispitivanje. Dakle, ne donosim jevanđelje raskola ili inovacije ili trostruke osnovne dobiti. Zapravo ne donosim jevanđelje vere koje bih danas podelio s vama. Donosim i nudim vam jevanđelje sumnje. Jevanđelje sumnje ne zahteva da prestanete da verujete, zahteva od vas da verujete u nešto novo: da je moguće ne verovati. Moguće je da su naši odgovori pogrešni, moguće je da su sama pitanja pogrešna. Da, jevanđelje sumnje znači da je moguće da mi, na ovoj sceni, u ovoj prostoriji, nismo u pravu. Jer povlači za sobom pitanje: "Zašto?" Uz svu moć koja nam je u rukama, zašto ljudi i dalje toliko pate?
This doubt leads me to share that we are putting my organization, MBAs Across America, out of business. We have shed our staff and closed our doors and we will share our model freely with anyone who sees their power to do this work without waiting for our permission. This doubt compels me to renounce the role of savior that some have placed on me, because our time is too short and our odds are too long to wait for second comings, when the truth is that there will be no miracles here.
Ova sumnja me navodi da kažem da moju organizaciju, MBA-ovi širom Amerike, gasimo. Raspustili smo osoblje i zatvorili naša vrata i delićemo naš model besplatno svakome ko smogne snage da radi ovaj posao, bez čekanja na naše odobrenje. Ova sumnja me navodi da se odreknem uloge spasitelja koju su mi neki nametnuli jer je naše vreme isuviše kratko, a šanse su nam isuviše tanke da bi čekali na druge silaske, jer istina je da se ovde neće zbiti čuda.
And this doubt, it fuels me, it gives me hope that when our troubles overwhelm us, when the paths laid out for us seem to lead to our demise, when our healers bring no comfort to our wounds, it will not be our blind faith -- no, it will be our humble doubt that shines a little light into the darkness of our lives and of our world and lets us raise our voice to whisper or to shout or to say simply, very simply, "There must be another way."
A ova sumnja me pokreće, daje mi nadu da kad nas naše muke nadvladaju, kad nam se učini da putevi pred nama vode u našu propast, kad naši iscelitelji ne donesu melem za naše rane, neće to biti naša slepa vera - ne, biće to naša skromna sumnja koja će da donese malo svetla u tamu našeg postojanja i našeg sveta i koja će nam omogućiti da podignemo glas u šapat ili u poklič ili da jednostavno kažemo, veoma jednostavno: "Mora da postoji drugi način."
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)