I think about legacy a lot. That is what happens when you are raised by people who committed time to their community, to the importance of education and civil engagement, and to furthering the power of compassionate understanding. For them, those were operating principles, the means by which they could live a fulfilling life.
Today, especially, it is forefront. You see, today is MLK Day in Atlanta, when the children and grandchildren of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., zealously lead celebrations and commemorations of the great man’s incredible legacy of selfless sacrifice. They come together to preach about his commitment to civil rights, especially for those marginalized by a society with a penchant for classism and racism.
From the pulpit of Ebenezer Baptist, the soaring oratory of Black Church promises we can move mountains if we embrace King’s legacy, too. They emphasize that our country only grows stronger when we work together to fulfill Thomas Jefferson’s words that “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
That is the rhetoric that launched a nation, and though those who signed the Declaration of Independence saw no contradiction in continuing to lay the yoke of slavery upon an entire race of people, those were the same words that Abraham Lincoln quoted at Gettysburg to unite a divided nation in the fight to emancipate a captive race and reconcile the inconsistencies in the Founders’ words. They are the same words that Dr. King used standing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, in 1963, when he announced his dream “that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'”
The MLK Day service in Atlanta is our annual call to “rise up and live out” the promise of equality under the law, that most essential of our republic’s founding principles.
Barack Obama described social justice as a “bottom up, not a top down” movement, meaning if you want to be the kind of American who stands for change, the first thing you have to do is stand. Get your butt off the floor. Rise up. Stand up against pervasive, institutional racism. Give your voice and your vote, your money and your time, and commit to the persistent, peaceful fight for everyone’s rights.
The U.S. Constitution says we are here “to form a more perfect union,” meaning our nation is not perfect. The guy who sits in the Oval Office now makes that self-evident (as do many of the people who claim to represent us, locally as well as federally).
Late night comedians made a lot out of President Trump’s recent threats to destroy Iran’s cultural sites, darkly joking about how we really have nothing to compare to the ancient Persian ruins that have stood for thousands of years. We have Vegas and shopping malls.
But we do have a culture. It lies in the legacy passed down in our nation’s founding documents. Our culture is the legacy of standing and fighting for freedom, equality and justice. It is in that fight that our union is strengthened. It’s the kind of fight that is never done. If there is anything about America that was ever great, it’s that the power to make our country better lies in the hands of our people. That is our greatest cultural legacy.
In celebrating the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., we remember that the endowment of inalienable rights belongs to the world, and that it is our responsibility to stand as one and fight for those rights. The descendants of Martin and Coretta King embrace the family legacy with arms spread wide, inviting Democrats and Republicans, liberals and conservatives, to join in the fight.They recognize that the courage to stand for something, to move our feet and march together in pursuit of a noble cause, is essential in protecting us from the existential threats to the Founders’ promise of equality.
So too, my own parents’ fight was necessary for the future of the ancient culture they valued above all, one they knew from personal experience was (and is) always under attack. The commitment of my parents (of blessed memory) to furthering our cultural legacy was driven by one unavoidable, overriding principle. Like most Jewish explanations, it comes in the form of a rhetorical question:
WHAT CHOICE DO WE HAVE?
I know their answer. What’s yours?
-PBG
PS. I am driven to set this down, today, not merely because I always find inspiration in the conversation for positive change that rules MLK Day, but because today would have been my late father, Isaac Goodfriend’s (z”l), ninety-sixth birthday. He was a regular participant in the Ebenezer service, standing hand-in-hand with the King family while singing a verse of “We Shall Overcome” in Hebrew.
The Yiddish word for legacy is yichus, a term that implies an almost sacred honor imbued in one’s ancestral legacy. Having no children of my own, I have no one to whom I can pass along the good fortune of my own yichus. I have only my words. I hope you take them to heart.