The (dis)United States of America

On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, what advice would the slain civil rights leader give a nation divided not just by color but character?

Photo of Carrie Seidman in Sarasota’s Martin Luther King jr. Park, by Cliff Roles

For the past three years, just after dawn on the morning of the third Monday in January, I have been in the same spot — at the Robert L. Taylor Community Center, site of Sarasota’s annual Martin Luther King Jr. Day breakfast celebrating the memory of the slain civil rights leader and the forces for good in the local Black community.

I have loved and looked forward to this event every year, not just because it was the earliest and most diverse on the local calendar, but because in mood, ambiance and intention everyone in attendance always seemed charged with the spirit of community, fellowship, good will and optimism.

Leaders from Newtown rubbed shoulders with suited local politicians and well-coifed organizational leaders. High school students in jeans sat next to elders in their Sunday best. Church ladies ladled food and cleared plates with efficiency, while adolescent boys in too-long trousers and too-stiff dress shoes dodged in and out of the line of people waiting to be served.

There was always music — often gifted young singers from the Black community — and a rallying cry from a guest speaker or local thought leader. And after the breakfast came the best part, the mile-long “unity march” through Newtown to MLK, Jr. Park on Coconut Ave.

Most of the politicians and business leaders didn’t stick around for that, but those who did — kids on bikes, high school band members in uniform, activists holding signs and chanting slogans and those motivated simply by the concepts of inclusion and connection — rejoiced in the sense of solidarity it conveyed.

Not surprisingly, this year’s MLK Day breakfast and march was scaled back to a simple and subdued afternoon ceremony at the park. That was dictated, of course, by the ongoing pandemic, which makes any kind of mass gathering a bad idea. But the cancellation of the march seemed all too justified for another reason: If there’s one thing we’re lacking right now, in our country and even our community, it’s a sense of unity.

More than two months after an election that at least a third of the country claimed to be fraudulent and less than two weeks after a group of insurrectionists laid siege to the nation’s architectural symbol of democracy, our nation and neighbors feel divided as never before.

The promise of a new administration’s “fresh start” has already been dismantled by charges from each end of the political spectrum blaming the other for today’s toxic situation. The impending inauguration, which once might have been seen as a buoyant moment of optimism, has been darkened by fear and uncertainty.

And everywhere around me I hear the question, “How do we move forward? How do we begin to heal?'“

As we celebrate today a man who envisioned a “beloved community” that can seem impossibly idealistic, we ask ourselves, “What would King do?” For there is no question he intimately knew the kind of division and bias, hatred and violent intimidation we have seen in recent weeks.

What would he advise in the face of such disunity? What words of wisdom would he impart in his sermon today?

Judging by his past words and actions, I can only imagine he would double down on his most powerful instrument for change — love. Love, which he called “the only force capable of changing an enemy into a friend.” Love, the only avenue he saw toward bringing out the best in each person. Love, the only path he believed could lead to that beloved community.

As Eboo Patel, an author and interfaith leader powerfully wrote in today’s Chicago Tribune:

“King believed that people change when they are reminded of their God-given potential for both greatness and goodness. And so he effectively says to the racist mobs: This is not all that you can be. Your potential is so much greater than this. Even though I am the target of your hate, I see so much more in you. I am going to remind you of that greatness and goodness, and then I’m going to convince you that I’m building a world where your greatness and goodness can manifest. You will like yourself better in that world. And in that world, we will be like brothers and sisters.”

What King would ask of us may seem unfathomable and unattainable — not just to forgive our adversaries, enemies and oppressors, but to believe in the possibility of their reawakening, renewal and self-realization. It is a daunting call to action that cost King his own life. And in all honesty, most of us are probably not courageous, principled or God-like enough to embrace it.

But on this day when we remember his life’s work, it is something to consider.