January 15th is coming, the day we honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Around this time of year, as an old white man, I find it useful to reread a letter addressed to these old white men back in April 1963: C.C.J. Carpenter, Joseph A. Durick, Rabbi Hilton J. Grafman, Bishop Paul Hardin, Bishop Nolan B. Harmon, George M. Murray, Edward V. Ramage, Earl Stallings.
They are the Eight White Clergymen who wrote “A Call for Unity,”* an open letter that criticized the Birmingham protests, and are the implied readers of King’s “Letter from A Birmingham Jail.” King refers to them as “My Dear Fellow Clergymen,” and later on as “my Christian and Jewish brothers.” These men were Birmingham religious leaders from the Episcopal, Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian, and Baptist churches as well as a Jewish temple; during the Birmingham protests, they met to discuss their concerns and ended up publishing their open letter, in which they questioned the timing of the protests and recommended that African Americans fight their battle against segregation in the courts rather than in the street. Most significantly, they claimed that the protests were being conducted by “outsiders,” referring indirectly to Martin Luther King, Jr., who was not from Birmingham. Their suggestion that outside activists should not be involved in Birmingham politics was the inspiration for one of King’s most famous statements, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
A copy of Dr. King's response, "Letter From A Birmingham Jail", is found at this link:
https://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html
Isn't it interesting, 60 years later, we still struggle with the "woke" concept?
A Small Grace In the spring of 2000, we left Union County for a farm near Goreville. We left behind friends whose company had shaped our days, and we left behind Sheriff Jim Nash—a man who understood that his work was not merely enforcement but service, a tending to the community as one might tend good land. Moving always brings uncertainty. We wondered what kind of place we were coming to, whether we would find neighbors who knew the old obligations, whether the county's servants would understand that their work was owed to actual people, not to abstractions. The answer came quickly, in the way such things do in small places. Julie had driven to town for the mail. When she came out, one tire was flat. She called, and I started for town, but I needn't have hurried. By the time I arrived, the Johnson County Sheriff, Elry Faulkner, had already pulled over, positioned his vehicle to shield her from the road, and changed the tire himself. This was not duty. This was neighborlines...
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