By Joseph Rembert 

The Selma Times-Journal

 

Monday was a bittersweet day for me. I travelled to Alexander City to deliver the Martin Luther King, Jr. Day message to hundreds of citizens who poured into the Stephens Middle School gymnasium after a parade that drew a large number of participants and spectators. During this type of event, one must be prepared to speak extemporaneously as the multitude of program participants preceding the messenger will try to tell the story first.

My wife and I were among the guest who rode in a long limousine and waved to bystanders as we moved along. While still trying to decide on the subject of my speech, I noticed about six little children, each holding a sign that read “March On.” Those cute children were the future and were challenging this present generation to continue in the march toward a full measure of freedom for future generations. I was ready to preach.

During the 1985 Commemoration of Bloody Sunday at Brown Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church, Selma, where I pastored, the Reverend Jesse Jackson stated that one of the saddest and most disappointing statements that he too often heard from people is “I use to be in the movement.” There are so many people who start a race without any expectation of finishing it. During this 50th year celebration of Bloody Sunday, many people are claiming that they were in Selma in 1965 and worked with Dr. King, apparently not fearing the biblical affirmation that a liar will not be long in God’s site.

I was the speaker at the first King celebration 25 years ago. Many of the people that I met back then had either died or were in poor health and could not join us on Monday. However, there were others who were as vibrant and fired up as they were a quarter century ago. Like myself, the aging process had made them a little shorter in stature; but they had risen higher in their commitment to struggle for social justice.

I was thrilled to see all of the young people at the program. Anytime I spot a large contingent of youth at a gathering, I’ll break out in a rap. Then, we had to get down to serious business. I was afraid that all of the people who spoke before me would continue until Jesus came back. When it was my time to speak, I reciprocated.

Several people addressed the assassinations of several black folks by rogue cops. I told them in the Eric Garner murder, the biggest problem was not the policeman who put a choke hold on him; but it was the economic and political operatives that put Garner in the situation that he found himself. There was an ordinance that precluded him from selling loose cigarettes that he didn’t receive taxes on. Heck! Those cigarettes were taxed when he purchased them across the counter.

The police shooting of a civilian that scared me more than any other occurred in Albuquerque, New Mexico where the police cam showed a man unnecessarily gunned down. My fear is the result of my first concern being if the victim was black. I was afraid, because I realized that we are being infected with the hate that hate produced.” While young black men are disproportionately the victims of execution by police, I pray that we, as a nation will someday rise to the level of concern where we will live out the creed of John Donne who said, “Every man’s death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind.”

I spoke for almost an hour, because I had so much I wanted to say to our young people. Get an education. Stay off drugs. Stay out of gangs. Believe that you are as good as anybody else. Learn to create jobs and build communities without high expectations from the system.

The young folks were so receptive. I stayed after the program, taking pictures, and talking with young people about working for a brighter future.

When I exited the auditorium with my wife, we saw several white police officers (the chief is black) rolling out crime scene tape. There was no crowd and no body lying on the ground. When I inquired about the scene. A black county commissioner told me that several black youth were outside shooting at each other. Only one lady appeared to be very upset. She yelled, “They should have been inside, listening to that man, instead of trying to kill each other.”

My heart was heavy; but for those six black children holding up their signs, I vowed that I’m going to march on. Perhaps in the near future, all of us will realize that black lives matter. Keep hope alive.