My father was not Dr. King, but he was my king. He died when I was
only seven years old. The fathomless hole
that my father's death opened is still at times painful, almost twenty years
later. It was an ugly place for me; but even in death there seems to be a small
but pretty horizon of hope. Death is indeed ugly but what he left behind was
quite pretty. He left me a library of his hand written sermons, personal
Bibles, and a cache of vinyl records. These are markers of the legacy that he
had left behind for me. It is with these things that he still lives, speaks and
directs me.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is long gone.
His voice can only be heard by recording, his touch can only be remembered, and
his smile is only captured in photo. However, his legacy has transcended his
death. His work for humanity cannot be undone with an assassin's bullet. The
markers of his legacy are all around us. We all see the public markers of his
legacy, but his children hold the sacred private markers of his endowment,
namely his traveling Bible and the Nobel Peace Prize.
The benefaction of the harbinger of
justice is now up for grabs. These sacred items have been defaced by sibling
rivalry. Will the King Bible become the next suggested item on Amazon? Will the
Nobel Peace Prize become a dusty collector's item to the highest bidder? When
did the promise of cash trump our sense of civility? When did greed cause us to
barter our treasured memories?
This no doubt is ugly, but I must ask what
is worse? A lost King Bible or a forgotten King dream? Will the people who
stand in line for Jordan's stand up for justice? Will the churches that
shamelessly beg for cash, cultivate a better future or hoard an endless
building fund? Will the oppressed who strive for the edge of life demand to be
placed at the center of life? Will babies be seen as another stream of
government income or a source of undying hope?
My father left things behind that I will
never sell and the Father of Fairness left things behind that we have long ago
placed on the clearance rack. The markers of his legacy are us but have we been
sold? Humanity is wrapped up in an ugly sibling rivalry, and while we bicker, the dream suffers.
