The Legacy of Martin Luther King
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
January 15, 2021
There are days that are engraved in our memory, serving as landmarks on a meandering roadmap. They remind us of how things had been up to then, and how, in a matter of moments, everything changed. We all have these in our personal lives—the day we got married, or had our children, or bought our first home.
But there are also dark days that stand alone in our national life. Some have receded to become solemn days of commemoration, like November 11, first observed as Armistice Day but which later became Veterans’ Day. Others still stand in all their breath-taking shock, recalling for us the very real sense of numbness and helplessness that they first caused us to feel.
For some of us, December 7, 1941 is a day that still lives in infamy and sadness.
And just mention “9/11” and you immediately find yourself transported to the moment and place when you first heard the news and first saw the images of tragedy, terror and horror.
Also among these are the days that President Kennedy was assassinated, then his brother Robert F. Kennedy; and April 4, 1968, the day that saw the assassination of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Those are days when time stopped and we all stood, dazed and confused. We gazed at one another, or else turned our thoughts inward. What we witnessed made us face the legacy left to us by past generations, even as we tried to assess our own role in the course of these events and define the next steps that we would now have to take.
On the anniversary of those days, we still take time to look around us. What has changed? What hasn’t? Have we? Has our behavior or attitudes?
If he had lived, Rev. King would be 92 today. What would he celebrate if he were still alive? Even though we observe this day in gratitude for his vision and achievements, there is still today—as there was when he was alive—debate about his political philosophy. There were those who opposed his policy of non-violence, who claimed that racism could only be eradicated from society once Whites become painfully—not only theoretically—aware of what Blacks have been suffering for centuries. The images of thousands of protesters marching in Selma and elsewhere across the South, arms linked in solidarity, are powerful, but then so is that iconic photograph taken on April 5, 1976, a picture published in a Boston newspaper of a White man using an American flag as a weapon as he lunges at an unarmed Black protester during an anti-busing riot.
We may honor the Rev. King for his idealistic vision and glorious Biblical imagery, but sadly, reality presents us with a different perspective.
Police over-reaction is still in the news. Black youth are not hanged like “strange fruit” from trees in the South anymore, but too many of them are still shot in the back, asphyxiated by over-zealous officers, or murdered for no other reason than that they were in the “wrong” place at the wrong time.
History teaches us that corrupt leaders use hatred not only to sow division, but actually to foment violence. We were witnesses to a terrifying example of this only last week, as we watched the news from Washington DC and the riots inside the US Capitol building. Displayed in full color were images and symbols that we all recognize for what they are: statements of hatred, prejudice and bigotry. What we saw was concrete proof that racism—and its ancient twin, anti-Semitism—are still very much embedded in American society. Over the past few years we’ve been watching the tide of hatred rise like a flood. America is not greater today than it was four years ago; it’s been reverting to a time that many of us have thought we had left behind—a nation poisoned by oppression, fear and intimidation.
Though a new administration is set to take over in Washington in just a few days, the threats of violence and insurrection are far from gone, and we are left to wonder if we will ever emerge from this endless hatred that has been—and still is—tearing us apart.
Maybe that’s why the Torah, the Prophets and the ancient Rabbis emphasize again and again that we must love our neighbor as ourselves. Because it’s too easy to fall into the trap of hatred, and because the only way to overcome this danger is through ongoing acts of love and kindness.
Maybe hatred is too deeply embedded in our souls, perhaps even in our genes. Certainly we are taught to suspect and fear “the other.” In the Torah’s book of Exodus, this is what motivates Pharaoh to enslave the Hebrews. In an unpredictable and unstable world, his attempt to hold back change and progress took the form of oppression, slavery and genocide.
The Rev. Martin Luther King didn’t quote Biblical stories and messages only because he was a wonderful minister of God’s word: He truly understood the lesson the book of Exodus teaches us—that Pharaoh’s kind of thinking only hastens the downfall of nations and empires. This week’s Torah portion, Va’eira (Exodus 6:2—9:35), describes the consequences—the first seven plagues—that followed Pharaoh’s evil decrees. The worst is yet to come. It’s an inevitable process.
This then should be the lesson we take from this year’s observance of Martin Luther King Day. Racism is not gone from our culture and society. Ask any young Black male who drives, walks or jogs through mostly White neighborhoods and towns. Look at the disproportionately high rate of COVID infections among People of Color. Check out inner-city schools and the lack of healthcare and other social services—privileges that White people take for granted.
Martin Luther King encouraged us to think beyond his own day. In his last speech, given the day before he was assassinated, he said, “I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land.”
Using these words as a prism of light and hope, how we get there is what we need to think about now.
I hope and pray that this important day in our calendar will not, at some future point on our journey, become yet another excuse for more consumerism, yet another auto sales event, but rather as a signpost along the path to freedom and equality across the land. This is what this day stands for; this is why we celebrate Martin Luther King Day. That is the legacy he left for his descendants and us, the American nation.
On the Shabbat before the Inauguration of a new President of these United States, may we find the strength and courage within us to rid our land of racism and bigotry. May the purveyors of violence and prejudice be relegated back into the subterranean sewers where they belong. May peace and health reign in Washington, in our streets and homes; and may we, the American Nation, stay united in body, soul and mind.
© 2021 by Boaz D. Heilman
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