Edgework

I was 22 years old in 1968 when Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated on April 4th at the age of thirty nine. I had come to adulthood during the tumultuous 1960s when the Vietnam War was raging abroad and the civil rights movement was gaining momentum in the United States. I was too young to understand the historical significance of the dramatic events of the time, but as I look back now I can see how they shaped my journey into the future. A few days ago, a friend reminded me that January 15th is a national holiday in America dedicated to the celebration of King’s legacy. So I thought it appropriate to explore the impact King has had on my life.

I was still in High School trying to discover who I was when King published his “Letter From Birmingham Jail” in 1963. It was a passionate reply to eight moderate Alabama clergymen who had posted an article in the local newspaper, “An Appeal for Law and Order and Common Sense.” At the time I was vaguely aware of the racial tensions in the American South but had not yet felt the fire of the civil rights movement that set this letter ablaze.

A few months ago, one of my readers in Ireland, Gavin Cargill, sent me a copy of the book, “The Gospel of Freedom: Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Letter from Birmingham Jail and the Struggle That Changed a Nation,” by Jonathan Rieder. Having followed my regular Edgework postings for some time, he said he felt that I would be able to relate to this famous letter and the story around it. Since I had not given a lot of thought to King in recent years, I was somewhat surprised to note that Cargill had heard the echos of King’s writings in mine.

After reading the book, I took a second look at the life, writings and speeches of King and I got to see why Gavin Cargill might have noticed my resonating with King. I will quote a short section of King’s speech, “I Have A Dream” made in Washington on August 28, 1963 that somehow found its way into my consciousness in my early twenties.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

Little did I know then that by the time of my retirement persons of color would have a permanent place in my extended family. My dream for my children, their spouses and their children is certainly reflected in these famous words uttered by Martin Luther King, Jr. I couldn’t have said it better.

When I first heard that speech as a young man it captured my imagination and put some fire in my bones. I also remember being deeply moved by the last speech King made on April 3, 1968, “I’ve Been to the Mountain Top,” as well as his assassination the following day. Many years later, while teaching at Steinbach Bible College, I came across a large poster of Martin Luther King, Jr. with the title at the bottom, “I Have a Dream.” It jumped out at me, and as they say, “It grabbed me by the throat and set me in the corner!” Something was resonating with me, even though I was unable to articulate exactly what it was. That picture hung in my office for well over a decade. Frequently I looked at it and tried to fathom its connection to my soul. Looking back now, I can understand more clearly the kinship I felt with King. It was only in later years that my friend Abe helped me to recognize that I have a highly sensitive personality. That means I have a proclivity to see and feel tension, struggle, injustice and discrimination in situations where many others assume all is well. I suspect in that regard King and I are similar.

In any case, as I began to discover my gifts as an educator and writer, I soon – like King – began to notice that I was frequently challenging the status quo. One of the things I learn from King’s experience is that in most situations the status quo is considered sacred and those who don’t agree become marked persons. There are a lot of vested interests in keeping things the way they are. So the forces supporting the status quo are quite formidable. One should not think that minimal action with anemic effort will change anything. King and I know.

Secondly, I learn from King that speaking out about what you see from your “mountain top” can get you into trouble. A chorus of antagonism can emerge rather quickly: You are going too fast! You should respect the majority! Don’t say things that offend people! Who do you think you are, anyway – a  prophet – for Pete’s sake? Why don’t you just do your work and keep the peace? King and I know.

Thirdly, sometimes just being true to who you are can isolate you. Many are not willing to stand with you if you try to look beyond the horizon. Loneliness can be hurtful and debilitating. At the same time, intimate friendships you forge in such contexts are sometimes deeper than you ever thought possible. King and I know.

And finally, I learn from King that the battle is never over. Unofficially, racial segregation and discrimination are still realities in too many places in America. And in my world, I have come to realize that the changes the church needs to make to be relevant in the 21st century will not happen overnight. I have also come to the realization that the massive changes required in our lifestyles to ensure an eco-friendly future for our grandchildren will not all happen in my lifetime. King and I know that the battle carries on.