Tag Archives: alabama

Chaos or Community?

It seems to me that a debate over where a nation’s flags should be positioned today should be about the national holiday’s namesake rather than two others who are not, the national holiday’s namesake that is.

To be fair, one of the two obviously did not invite the debate. In fact, just over forty-six years ago (January 14, 1979) President Jimmy Carter became the first president to propose a national holiday honoring Reverend King even though thirty such bills had been proposed and defeated in Congress in the decade following the assassination, with the first proposal coming just a few days after the national tragedy in 1968.

President Carter’s proposal was unsuccessful, too. There were repeated financial arguments against the holiday over the years (e.g., President Ronald Reagan cited cost concerns; i.e., it will cost too much money to give federal workers another day off), and there were repeated personal attacks (e.g., Senator Jesse Helms called Reverend King a “Marxist” — and even President Reagan, again, who eventually signed the 1983 national holiday bill that finally made it through Congress into law, dodged a question about Senator Helms’s accusations with a thinly-veiled slap, “We’ll know in thirty-five years, won’t we,” referring to the scheduled release of FBI surveillance recordings). Today’s youth are presumably ignorant of the long road to the national celebration of the life of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Key to generating the public pressure necessary to turn the tide on a national holiday, including a petition with an incredible six million signatures, was the extraordinary effort of musical legend, Stevie Wonder, who wrote and released his MLK-holiday-inspired version of the song, “Happy Birthday,” in 1981. “Happy Birthday” became one of his signature songs and has endured in beautiful ways. At the first official national MLK Day celebration in 1986, Stevie was the headline performer.

Still, even with the eventual declaration of a federal holiday, many states were reluctant to participate. It wasn’t until the year 2000 that every state officially came on board, although I am sad to report that both Alabama and Mississippi, in a breathtaking and ongoing insult, still combine the holiday to recognize both Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert E. Lee, the Civil War general that led the fight to preserve Black slavery.

And if the fight for a day to recognize Reverend King wasn’t hard enough, we add a presidential inauguration today. Given the Twentieth Amendment to the United States Constitution’s specification for presidential inaugurations (January 20) and the designated date for MLK Day (third Monday in January, instead of his actual birthday, January 15), this will happen periodically. It happened with both President Bill Clinton’s second inauguration in 1997 and President Barack Obama’s second inauguration in 2013, and it won’t happen again until 2053, but it is happening today.

I listened to Stevie Wonder’s signature song, and given the persistent reluctance to fully celebrate the holiday and the bitter divisions in our nation, certain of his lyrics struck me with special force:

  • “the way to truth is love and unity to all God’s children”
  • “the whole day should be spent in full remembrance of those who lived and died for the oneness of all people”
  • “we know that love can win”
  • “the key to unity of all people is in the dream that you had so long ago that lives in all of the hearts of people that believe in unity”

I wish that those sentiments — sentiments that happen to reflect Reverend King’s understanding of Christian values — could be the full focus of a day like today.

Today, I do get to be a part of a lengthy reading to commemorate the holiday. We will gather in the “MLK Room” on the Ripon College campus and read aloud sections of the last book that Reverend King published prior to his assassination, titled, “Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community?” That question — Reverend King’s question — reverberates today. Which will we choose?

Sometime between today’s presidential inauguration and tonight’s college football championship, I propose finding a few minutes to reflect on Stevie Wonder’s lyrical call to the world as set forth in his birthday song for Reverend King and truly consider the question: Where will we go from here — chaos, or the beloved community of which Reverend King so famously dreamed?

These United States

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The United States of America is 242 years old today. It seems to be in a bit of a cranky stage but those of us who love her hope she will grow out of it someday (soon). It is a spectacular country in about every way you define spectacular. I have now traveled to five continents and have a better frame of reference—enough to recognize that the land of my birth is unique in its global influence.

And I have now spent time in thirty-six of these United States and hope to complete the set someday. I already have remarkable memories.

I stood outside the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Alabama and threw snowballs on the Fourth of July in Alaska. I stood at the Grand Canyon in Arizona and called the Hogs in Arkansas. I watched the sunset in California and ran in the snow in Colorado. I saw a rocket launch in Florida and ate peach cobbler in Georgia. I ran along the Snake River in Idaho and sang Take Me Out to the Ballgame at Wrigley Field in Illinois. I shot hoops at Larry Bird’s restaurant in Indiana and drove by corn fields in Iowa.

I saw the wide open horizon in Kansas and watched horses run behind white fences in Kentucky. I ate beignets in Louisiana and crab cakes in Maryland. I toured the Ford Museum in Michigan and the Mall of America in Minnesota. I saw a hurricane in Mississippi and the Gateway Arch in Missouri. I sang in the capitol rotunda in Nebraska and walked the Las Vegas Strip in Nevada. I drove Route 66 across New Mexico and ran Central Park in New York.

I ate banana pudding in North Carolina and had a VIP tour of the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Ohio. I dodged tornadoes in Oklahoma and crossed breathtaking rivers in Pennsylvania. I saw Fort Sumter in South Carolina and the Lorraine Motel in Tennessee. I witnessed Monday Night Football in Texas and the Golden Spike National Monument in Utah. I crossed the Potomac in Virginia and ascended the Space Needle in Washington. I drove up a winding mountain in West Virginia and ate cheese curds in a bar in Wisconsin.

I am ready for more.

This is an incredible country, and I choose to celebrate these United States today. And I choose to do my part in making it better tomorrow.

Telling the Truth in America

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“I think we do need truth and reconciliation in America. But truth and reconciliation are sequential. You can’t get to reconciliation until you first tell the truth.” – Bryan Stevenson

My dad was born and raised in Kennett, Missouri, the largest town in the Missouri Bootheel located just across the Arkansas border and not far from the Mississippi River. He was born in 1920, over four decades before singer-songwriter, Sheryl Crow, Kennett’s most famous native.

I don’t know much about my dad’s childhood years but have never forgotten a haunting story he told of witnessing the lynching of a black man on the courthouse lawn for allegedly raping a white woman. Children were not supposed to be there, but my dad wiggled his way to the front while the crowd was shamefully mesmerized by the spectacle of a human being with a noose around his neck being asked if he had any final words. The man answered, “Well, I didn’t do it, but I know that doesn’t make any difference to you all.” And then he was killed.

I don’t remember my dad telling the story with any particular emotion so I’m not sure why he shared it with his young son over fifty years after the fact, but it was obvious that it had made an impression. And here I am almost another fifty years later telling it again. If you wonder how far we have to go back to find race-motivated lynchings on a courthouse lawn, for me it is one generation.

I think Bryan Stevenson is a remarkable human being and encourage you to read/watch/listen to him in any way that you can. Stevenson is the founder and Executive Director of the Equal Justice Initiative (“EJI”) in Montgomery, Alabama, and among many wonderful projects had the idea of telling the truth about lynchings in the United States.  EJI published a report titled, Lynching in America: Confronting the Legacy of Racial Terror, which documented over 4,000 lynchings between 1877-1950—a period of time after, of course, the Civil War, the abolition of slavery, and the other Reconstruction Amendments to the Constitution. I looked at the map and noted zero lynchings identified in Dunklin County, Missouri, where Kennett is the county seat. I know a man who witnessed one, so I can only imagine how many race-motivated lynchings actually occurred.

Stevenson’s message is that we must tell the truth before we get anywhere on racial reconciliation, so on a day set aside to remember Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I will use my small platform to say that my personal heritage includes a history and ongoing legacy of things we can be proud of alongside things for which we should be deeply ashamed. We cannot honestly claim one without the other. And among those things that require deep shame is nothing less than domestic terrorism that targeted a particular race of people motivated by white supremacy.

May we tell the truth. May we lay markers so that we never forget. And may we recommit to the pursuit of Dr. King’s not-yet-realized dream.

“I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted and every hill and mountain shall be made low; the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.” – Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (Washington, D.C., August 28, 1963)

Race

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Go see “Race.” The critics apparently do not think it is the greatest movie in the history of movies, but the story of Jesse Owens is one of the greatest stories in the history of stories, so there. But be prepared. American race relations in the 1930s is not fun to watch, and then you encounter Nazi Germany. It is a tough, hard, heroic story well worth the price of admission, not to mention the attention of your heart.

I traveled to northern Alabama in June 2007 to speak at a church that had supported our church during Hurricane Katrina, and while there, noticed that the Jesse Owens Memorial Park & Museum was nearby. I had to go. Jesse, a grandson of slaves, was born into a family of sharecroppers in tiny Oakville, Alabama, and the museum grounds contains a replica of his childhood home. Mr. & Mrs. Owens had nine children in that tiny house, and the children had no beds. Eventually, the family relocated to Cleveland, Ohio, where life was bad, but better, and it was there that Jesse’s spectacular high school track and field performances catapulted him on to the world stage where he forever defied Hitler’s claim of Aryan supremacy.

This picture is my personal favorite from the museum (and my favorite scene in the movie):

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The friendship that formed between blond-haired, blue-eyed Luz Long from Nazi Germany and African-American, Jesse Owens, from the United States in the long jump competition at the Olympic Games stands as a testament of hope for the world.

An article on ESPN.com shared the following quote from Owens: “It took a lot of courage for him to befriend me in front of Hitler. You can melt down all the medals and cups I have and they wouldn’t be a plating on the 24-karat friendship I felt for Luz Long at that moment. Hitler must have gone crazy watching us embrace. The sad part of the story is I never saw Long again. He was killed in World War II.”

Eighty years after the 1936 Olympic Games, the world sure seems to remain a mess. But there is hope. There is always hope. And it begins when people defy social expectations and form the most unlikely friendships.

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