![]() It was one thing to sing, “I’m on my way to Canaan land,” another to walk out the church door and risk the wrath of the diabolical Bull Connor. The overwhelming majority of black churches, and many ordinary black people too, had turned a deaf ear to him. In the weeks before he went to jail, he had become weak in spirit, and it was black diffidence, not white hatred, that first discouraged him. Yet King sometimes seemed more anguished than zealous. “God is raging in the prophet’s words,” wrote King’s friend, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. ![]() And yet the chiding prophet did not emerge in a flash. was finishing up the “Letter from Birmingham Jail.” The “letter” was his answer to eight white clergymen, among the most prestigious, racially moderate clergy in Alabama, who had branded King an extremist and condemned the protests roiling that city of fierce racism.ĭespite the often calm refutation and allusions to Martin Buber, King’s prison jottings would acquire prophetic intensity. ![]()
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