I have many moments seared into my memories that were so important that even many years later I am able to remember them with uncanny clarity. One of them happened when I was a chaperone for a summer Civil Rights tour with the Class of 2010 in the high school where I worked. 

As someone who recalled the days of segregation and the efforts to bring equality and justice to Black American citizens it was an honor to be able to visit the places where great things happened. We visited locales where individuals literally risked their lives to tear down all of the barriers that had kept Black people in the shadows of our democracy even after slavery had been abolished. I felt quite emotional standing in front of the hotel where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. I almost cried as I walked across the William Pettit Bridge with my students.I remembered the segregation of my childhood as I sat on the bus where Rosa Parks so famously refused to move from her seat. It was at the parsonage where Dr. King and his family lived that I had my most spiritual experience. 

I had wandered through the house with my students while a sweet lady told us the history of Dr. King’s stay there. I saw his children’s rooms and recognized the design of his 1960s era furniture from that of my own childhood. In the kitchen I witnessed a formica topped table so much like the one where I broke bread with my family. I wanted to sit down, close my eyes and imagine Dr. King and his wife smiling and conversing at the end of a day the way my mother and brothers and I had once done.

The guide told us the story of the bomb attack on the house. Someone had hope to blow up the place with explosives planted underneath the front porch. Luckily the power of the blast was not big enough to do the damage it was intended to create. Nonetheless it rocked Dr. King and his family so much that those who loved him were urging him to leave his civil rights work and move back to his hometown of Atlanta where he could work in a church with his father.

Dr. King was torn as to what to do. Long after his family retired to bed he sat at that kitchen table reading his Bible and praying to God for guidance. By morning he had come to believe that he had been called by God Himself to be a leader in the civil right movement. He would stay and face whatever dangers lay ahead. 

I was mesmerized as I stood staring at the table where such a great man had once made his momentous decision. I lingered after my students left the building with the guide. I needed to be alone in that moment and when the guide walked back inside she found me meditating and somehow feeling the spirit of Dr. King himself. She read my mind and quietly asked if I wanted to touch the table. I simply looked at her, smiled and nodded my head. She gave her accent wordlessly as I leaned over the barrier separating me from the table. When I put my hand on the cold top I closed my eyes and somehow felt that I had been granted a great gift of understanding. I literally felt how much moral courage it took for Dr. King to decide that he had to continue his work regardless of how frightening it might be. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I somehow fully comprehended the importance of what had happened there.

I’ve often spoken of reading about the lives of saints when I was a young child. I was not able to relate to most of them. They seemed to be too perfect for me to even consider emulating them. With Dr. King I found a true human who I believe overcame his faults to courageous do the work of a saint. He was admittedly imperfect but he nonetheless kept working to take down the barriers that subjected his people to prejudice and hatred. He knew the risks, but took them anyway because it was the true work of a Christian minister. He literally laid down his life for his fellow human beings. 

It is difficult to find people with moral courage these days. Alexi Navalny, a Russian lawyer who fought for freedom for his fellow citizens, had it. He was no doubt killed while in prison. He understood what his fate might be but publicly protested in spite of the dangers. Liz Cheney has stood up to the political party that once enshrined her father as Vice President of the United States. They turned on her because she was unafraid to speak the truth about Donald Trump. She and Nalvany are exceptions in today’s world. People look away when they witness wrongdoing. The carefully parse their words and fall in line with bullies and dictators rather than risking the consequences of doing the right thing. 

I suppose most of us, including me, would be prone to backing down or staying quiet rather than standing alone for the sake of what is just. It is so incredibly difficult to summon the kind of bravery that might result in losing friends or jobs or even one’s life. We would do well to admit that someone has to step up to the plate when people are hurting. It might as well be one of us. Why not choose to be that person if only in a small way? The challenge is there for us all.