Forty years ago today Martin Luther King was shot dead.  I remember it.  I was eleven years old and King’s assassination was a bracing moment in my political socialization.

     My parents were both born and raised in Washington DC, which was, in their time, a segregated city (as it remains by and large).  They both came from middle class families but also had black maids, common then to the white professional classes.  They were not racists but were used to a certain racial inequality.  I remember as a young child traveling to see relatives in Virginia and seeing signs that read "Whites only."  They made my sister cry.

     I was raised in a suburb of New York City and as I came into political awareness the civil rights movement had already scored significant victories.  My father, who would later teach rhetoric at Fairfield University, was drawn to King’s brilliant oratory.  The 1963 "I have a dream" speech was revered in our household.    

    So when the news came over the radio and television that he had been shot, it was like a physical punch in the stomach.  I could not understand it.  How could such a man, such a brave and charismatic figure, be gunned down?  As the cities went up in flames (my aunt remained in DC and gave us reports of the rioting and fires as they unfolded), I  hung my head in shame for the failure of my country.

     That was King’s brilliance.  When he invoked the words from the Declaration of Independence – "all men are created equal" – he was pointing out the failure of the United States, its horrible historical failure, but also guiding us toward redemption.  There was a way to be good again.  Equality is difficult to practice and realize; prejudices can be slow to fade.  But that idea of a common humanity that all of us share, not only black and white in America but all races and ethnicities everywhere, is a powerful inspiration.  All people are created equal: an idea that Mencius also articulated:

A heart of compassion is the seed of Humanity.  A heart of conscience is the seed of Duty.  A heart of courtesy is the seed of Ritual.  And a heart of right and wrong is the seed of wisdom.

These four seeds are as much a part of us as our four limbs.  To possess them and yet deny their potential – that is to wound yourself… We all possess these four seeds, and if we all understand how to nurture them, it will be like fire blazing forth or springs flooding free…  (3.6)

     That image of our common humanity, our shared innate goodness, coming forth as "springs flooding free" makes me thing of King invoking Amos: "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream."   Ultimately, it’s all about equality.

      King has continued to inspire us.  Maureen and I, when our son was born, named him for King: Aidan Martin Crane.  And Aidan taught me even more about the common humanity emphasized by King and Mencius.