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I'm reading the third of Taylor Branch's wonderful series on the King years; the book "At Canaan's Edge" covers 1965 to '68. Published this year by Simon & Schuster, the only short-coming I am aware of is that the book is only 1000 pages. Today I am able to trace King's footsteps in Selma.
But I am reminded, both by the book and by the OP (which I will nominate, and hope others do as well), of a section from Dick Gregory's book, "Nigger." The final chapter of that book is the most powerful. "A scared Negro is one thing," Dick tells his readers. "A mad Negro is something else." Then he goes into the speech he gave in Selma.
"It's amazing how we come to this church every Sunday and cry over the crucifixion of Christ, and we don't cry over these things that are going on around and among us. If He was here now and saw these things, He would cry. And He would take those nails again. For us. For this problem.
"It just so happened in his day and time, religion was the big problem. Today it is color. What do you think would happen to Christ tonight if He arrived in this town a black man and wanted to register to vote on Monday? What do you think would happen? Would you be there? You would? Then how come you're not out there with these kids, because He said that whatever happens to the least, happens to us al ...."
On page 769 of his book, Branch writes, "Shortly after the assassination, a grief-stricken Stanley Levison complained that most Americans already distorted the loss of 'their plaster saint who was going to protect them from angry Negroes.' Pride and fear subverted King's legacy from all sides." Yet we need not reduce King to that plaster saint today, any more than we should allow Jesus to be crucified on a stained glass window. We need to keep their spirit alive, with us, in the context of the living, breathing human race.
One of my favorite books about Martin is Ralph Abernathy's "And the Walls Came Tumbling Down." He published it in 1990, as his own time was coming to a close. I was glad that he was able to see the dismantling of the Berlin Wall, and hear the choruses of "We Shall Overcome" as it came tumbling down. Martin was there, and he wasn't found in the plaster wall.
To paraphrase King, we are certainly facing some difficult days. The problems we are confronting are the same ones that Martin and Jesus died for. Neither man was ignorant: they knew that it was not a sacrifice demanded by "God" -- by the life-force of this universe. Rather, it was a part of their confronting the darkness, lighting the way for those of us here, today, to find our way.
As I read Branch's book, I wait for Martin to have a quiet moment, away from the crowd, and I approach him and I ask, "Martin, where do we find you today? What can you tell us today?" And although he is tired, Martin never stops giving of himself. "I'm marching with Cindy Sheehan," he tells me, with a tired smile. "And I'm with those young people in the southwest. I'm feeding the poor and helping rebuild homes from the victims of Katrina."
Martin's not gone from us. We just need to know where to find him. And we need to be willing to sacrifice. Like Dick Gregory suggests, we need to stop being scared. Today. I'll end with a few more lines from Dick in Selma:
"So it's coming down to this. You have to commit. You're going through the same things today that folks went through when the Lord was crucified. 'Who else is with Christ?' the Romans asked. And everyone just stood there. And prayed silently. And they went back and said: 'I prayed.'
"No, sister, I didn't even see your lips moving. Were you there when they crucified the Lord? It's a nice song to sing. But this time you have an opportunity to be there. Sure would be a heck of a thing, twenty, thirty years from now, when they're singing songs about these days, and your grand-kids and great-grand-kids can stand up and say: 'Yeah, baby, he was there, my grandfather was there.'
"And when they ask you, you can nod your head and say: 'Yeah. I was there.' "
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