Amidst a tempest of rain and lightning, he clawed his way to the top of Mt. Sinai. Once at the summit, he rose tall and unleashed the judgment of God, his voice raised above the thunder and his silhouette reflected against an angry sky. I am proud for the memory of such a brave man. Listen and judge for yourself. This was his speech in Washington, D.C. in 1963:
He knew his days were limited. He said so himself. You cannot proclaim such a message and not expect the worst, at least not in his day. He lived with a target on his chest. He knew it. Yet he persisted. Time and again. The fateful day came in Memphis, 1968, when he was assassinated by a rifleman. I don't recall whether he died quickly or slowly. But I recall the day he fell to the floor of his hotel balcony, dropped by an assassin's bullet. Where is such courage today? Where is the voice crying out in the wilderness, willing to lay down his life for righteousness' sake?
In Hollywood? Puhleese.
In Washington, D.C.? Get real.
On Wall Street? Not a chance.
It's all play-acting these days ... bravado that is full of sound and fury but signifies nothing. King was a man's man. He walked the walk. He looked death in the eye and marched straight toward his adversary. Lots of people wish to be like him, but few are. Most break for cover at the first sound of gunfire. He didn't. He stayed the path. Toward destiny ... the end to which faith led him ... where ultimately he was embraced by those who preceded him, and by the One who makes the journey worth the decision. He preached non-violence and the equality of all. A costly decision.
I'm sure many people repeated to him a version of what the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber wrote to Mahatma Gandhi shortly before Gandhi's assassination in India in 1948:
Nations not infrequently swallow up the greatness to which they have given birth.
Folks like MLK -- and Gandhi -- march forward nonetheless.
No comments:
Post a Comment