"Return To Selma."

Rev. Dr. Morris Hudgins.
April 21, 2002.

Introduction
On Monday, March 11th, I rode on a bus from Birmingham, Alabama, with over 50 Unitarian Universalist ministers to Selma, Alabama, to retrace the steps of hundreds of our colleagues who made that trip in 1965. What happened 37 years ago is now history. We have either witnessed the events on television, read books or heard people talk about Bloody Sunday (March 7th) which resulted in the beatings of hundreds of African-Americans who wanted to march to Montgomery with Martin Luther King, Jr. We also know that it would take weeks before that march would take place. Martin Luther King would call for help from clergy around the nation to join the efforts in Selma.

What was their goal? To achieve something for African-Americans that the rest of us took for granted: The right to vote. In some counties no African-Americans were allowed to vote in Alabama. The march would go through one of those counties on the way to Selma.

We all know that during this period of two weeks before the March would finally begin on March 21st, 1965, many things would happen, including the deaths of two Unitarian Universalists. The Rev. James Reeb, on March 9th, was hit with a two-by-four and two days later he would die in a Birmingham hospital. Viola Liuzzo, a Unitarian from Detroit would also respond to the call from Dr. King and drove down to lend a hand. She was followed by a carload of Ku Klux Klanners and an FBI informant. They forced her off the road to Montgomery and put a bullet through her head.

Our minister's group wanted to reflect on these events with some of the individuals who took part in the original events and would join us to retell the story. I had been looking for a year to this trip. It was two years ago that I suggested to my friend the Rev. Gordon Gibson minister in Elkart, Indiana, formerly minister in Ellisville and Jackson, Mississippi, during the 1960's that he should help make this trip happen. Gordon called the District Executive, Eunice Benton, and before I knew it the trip was planned, and we were on the bus from Birmingham to Selma, to Montgomery, and back to Birmingham. I can say with all honesty that this trip has been one of the highlights of my 30 year ministry. It was a pilgrimmage for many of us—a journey to a special place.

Thankful Welcome
As I reflect on this trip I cannot help but tell you of the joy and sorrow of those who retell the story. I saw the joy in the faces of the tour guides at the Voting Rights Museum in Selma. We were sent a message by the Mayor who is African-American, and greeted by the local organizer of the March in 1965, the Rev. F.D. Reese, and two tour guides who were children marching with their parents. One was an African-American teacher and coach, Mr. Huggins, and the other a child who now coordinates the tours at the museum. One of the questions I asked of the tour director was: "Did the city of Selma help support or pay for this museum?" The answer: "No." Someday they hope this will change. This trip was a reminder that things have changed a great deal in the last 37 years, but they are not yet as they should be.

The Death of James Reeb
There were so many emotional parts to this trip. An important part of the trip was lunch at Strong's Restaurant in Selma. Strongs is now a popular restaurant that has changed hands since 1965, but it's former owners of Walker's Restaurant hosted James Reeb, Clark Olsen and Orloff Miller in 1965. We all know what happened to James Reeb. Clark Olsen, one of our participants in this tour told that story on a CNN special produced by his daughter who was employed by the network and who made that trip with her father just a couple of years ago. Clark was the only witness who saw the club hit James Reeb. He testified at the trial of the three who were found innocent by an all white jury. One of the jurors said after the trial: "These men suffered through a trial. That is enough."

As we rode the bus through Selma the bus driver drove by the used car lot owned by the only living assailant of James Reeb, "Duck" Hoggle. Duck makes most of his living now from African-Americans who buy used cars. Some of my colleagues wanted to stop at the business and surround the lot in protest. We didn't have the time.

We did stop at Brown Chapel AME Church, the headquarters for the original Selma to Montgomery March. We were greeted by the minister and a reporter. The reporter had written stories about the march in 1965. He would not write stories about out trip for a Montgomery newspaper.

The Call to Selma
Another participant on our trip to Selma was, The Rev. Richard Leonard, who was one of the my colleagues who participated in the march in 1965, and kept a diary of his experience. That diary was published by Skinner House Press this year and was available to us on the journey. I could not help but watch with interest the emotions of Richard Leonard, Orloff Miller and Clark Olsen, who led us on this journey last month. In a few minutes I will quote some of the passages from this important book, titled, Call to Selma; Eighteen Days of Witness. Bill Sinkford, the President of the UUA, wrote the introduction to the book. The end of the book contains reflections from many of my colleagues who were involved in the events of 1965.

Following our visit to the Voting Rights Museum, we then walked to the Edmund Pettus Bridge, the site of much of the violence on Bloody Sunday. Jim Clark and his policeman had been ready with tear gas, clubs and water hoses. Many were on horseback. After the organizers asked for an injunction a judge ordered the National Guard to not only let them march but also protect them from possible attack. We all know the protection the marchers received was not effective. The marchers had to keep one eye on members of the Ku Klux Klan, but another eye on the local police. They didn't know which side they were on.

One of the things I wondered as I made this trip was the families of the participants in 1965. What did the wife and children of my brave colleagues feel about them going. Richard Leonard answered my questions. In his book he talks about the difficult decision as he hurriedly left for Selma. He choose not to tell his wife before he went. He asked his mother to inform his family.

One of the questions I asked both Richard Leonard and Clark Olsen on this trip was concerning the possible dangers they were facing. It is clear that Richard was aware of the danger. Clark was not. His thought that the police and the Klan would probably not attack a large group of clergy. He was obviously wrong. In reading Richard Leonard's book, it is clear that he was clear of the possible danger every day he was in Selma. Here is what he wrote on Monday, March 15, day eight of the trip:

When I awoke at 6:00 a.m., I felt as though I had had the sleep of a Rip Van Winkle. I lay in bed first feeling completely contented, then felt that same wave of fear that came across me each time I awoke in Selma, the fear that disaster was impending, that this might be the last day for some or many of us.

After reading this book it is also easy to see how Martin Luther King felt the importance of mutuality as shown by the famous quote in our hymnbook. Richard Leonard felt this mutuality each day of his time in Selma. Here is how he describes it:

When this wave (of fear) passed, I lay in bed a while longer, thinking about how everyone's safety appeared related to everyone else's. Once we had been drawn into the Selma whirlwind, there was no exit for the individual acting alone without abdicating safety and probably
responsibility.

If there only one thing we should take from the Selma experience it is that our denomination should always see itself as related to a larger world. When we join a UU church we are joining a group with a proud heritage, and one that includes a long history of standing up for the rights of others. The words of Martin Niemoller who was imprisoned by Hitler and freed by the allies speak for all of us. Niemoller wrote:

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me.

This philosopher somehow became a part of our brothers and sisters who went to Selma in 1965. They placed their life in danger because they believed in justice for all people. They paid the price for their efforts but it was worth the effort.

Richard Leonard would survive the trip. What about the wife and children of James Reeb? Orloff Miller told us on the bus that he contacted Mrs. Reeb in Wyoming after the death of her husband and she was too bitter to speak. Later she returned his call and invited him to dinner. He took her a piece of petrified wood that came from a Western forest in honor of James Reeb. Orloff knew how much Jim loved the west. One of Jim's children now has that ancient wood.

Conclusions
I got back on the bus and thought about two quotes said during the original events. One was by President Lyndon B. Johnson on March 15th:

At times, history and fate meet at a single time in a single place to shape a turning point in man's unending search for freedom. So it was at Lexington and Concord. So it was a century ago in Appomattox. And so it was last week in Selma, Alabama.

The other quote is by Martin Luther King, Jr.:

We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I returned home with a reminder why the events of March, 1965 took place: Black people in the South wanted the right to vote. It was a long struggle. I will long remember the words of Mr. Huggins in the Voting Rights Museum: "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

Pilgrimage
This pilgrimage to Selma is very much related to the beginning of my decision to become a Unitarian Universalist minister. During the Selma March I was eighteen years old and a freshman in a small Methodist liberal arts college in Fayette, Missouri. Fayette was a long way from Selma. We did not receive the call to Selma.

A few years later when I would graduate from Duke University Divinity School, once called by Saul Alinski as the Forest Lawn of Protest Schools, I would learn about the courage of others during the Civil Rights era. Some of my faculty at Duke became radicalized during this period and taught that we could not separate our religious beliefs from the struggles of the world.

Martin Luther King, Jr., became one of my idols. I committed myself to the cause of African-Americans. I always wondered if I could have that commitment and stay in the United Methodist Church. When I finished my first year in the ministry in Richmond, Virginia, a young adult in my church told me about a visit to First Unitarian Church in that city. He thought I would like their theology and their commitment to social justice. Quietly I learned about that church. I learned about their support of draft resisters and about the support of many Unitarian Universalists to the Civil Rights struggle.

I would hear stories of my colleagues who went to Birmingham, Selma and Montgomery. It was still a long way off. This March I had the opportunity to make that trip and hear more stories of my colleagues. I am glad I did. My commitment to this faith and to the bond between theology and ethics is greater today that it was just weeks ago.

I know what the Moslems must feel when they return from Mecca—for many that is a pilgrimage of a lifetime. They go to that sacred place where their hearts and their heads are one. They go to that place where their forefathers and mothers have gone for centuries to proclaim their allegiance to Allah.

On March 10, I went on a similar pilgrimage. On a beautiful day 55 of us walked across the Edmond Pettus Bridge, two by two as they did in 1965. I had agreed to take pictures of this trip and sent them to the UUA. I was so overwhelmed by the walk across the bridge that I forget about the pictures. When I got arrived on the other side of the bridge, on the site where the men, women and children had been beaten on Bloody Sunday in 1965, I wanted so badly to hold someone's hand. I could not talk to my partner. We had promised to keep silent. I just kept walking, and then remembered I was to take pictures. I pulled myself together and took a picture of the group at the entrance to the Park entrance. They were all in a circle and they were singing. It was a beautiful site.

A couple of hours later we would come to the Memorial for Viola Liuzzo. Her memorial is on a ridge so everyone can see. Unfortunately, the marker has been damaged by vandals so much that they have had to surround it with iron bars. When we were there someone had put flowers on her memorial.

This time I got ahead of the group and wanted to take a picture of the group walking quietly from the memorial to the bus. I looked into the camera and saw the sun setting behind my colleagues. What more appropriate way to end the trip from Birmingham, to Selma, to Montgomery. I wanted to repeat the words of the African-American tour guide in the Museum: "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. Thank you James Reeb. Thank you Viola Liuzzo. Thank you Martin Luther King, Jr., and all the people who responded to the "Call to Selma." My heart is filled with gratitude this day for my colleagues, for my religious association, and for you who are a part of this association today.

We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere... We shall hew out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope. (MLK, #584, Hymnal)