- As with millions of Black teenagers across America, Rev. Jackson instilled in me a sense of “somebodyness” with his simple, but penetrating, speech to the last generation living in a Jim Crow Society, designed to remind you of your inferiority and less-than status: “I Am Somebody.”
- A biography of Jesse Jackson somehow made its way into my hands at about age 19 or 20; and my most salient remembrance from reading it was that Jesse Jackson, according to the book, did not drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes. Faced with the temptations to do both at that age, it was Jackson’s lifestyle of abstinence in that regard, which influenced me to not succumb to either. That remains true until this day, for which I am grateful. The two exceptions were smoking a cigar with a pastor friend—about age 21 or 22, while I was pastoring my first church—who asked me to smoke a cigar with him to celebrate the birth of his first child; and smoking two cigarettes doing a solo out-of-state drive at about 22 or 23. Thanks, in part, to the influence of Rev. Jackson, I never developed the potentially addictive habits of smoking and drinking. While a patient at the Cleveland Clinic later in my 50s, they labeled me a non-smoker in as much as that was the sum total of my smoking history.
- I was privileged to shake hands with Rev. Jackson for the first time in St. Louis, Missouri at a late-night service for the National Baptist Congress of Christian Education probably about 1980 or 1981. My wife and I were together when we met him. I was so elated and thrilled getting to shake Rev. Jackson’s hand. I told my wife that I was not going to wash my hands for three days. Her response was “neither will you touch me for three days.” Well, I quickly changed my mind and washed my hands.
- I sat in a crowd of thousands in Memphis, TN, in June 1983, again at an NBC Congress of Christian Education. Rev. Jackson spoke, and I was enamored with the crowd responding to him with, “Run Jesse run,” as he was by then running in the Democratic primary as a presidential nominee.
- In a major televised speech at a Democratic gathering in the early 80s, my wife and I sat as fans of Rev. Jackson listening to fabulous oratory and excellent speech. We were both startled mid-way or late in his speech when he spoke affirmatively regarding gay rights, and their inclusion in his rainbow coalition. Vera and I looked at each other with surprise, and disappointment. That was the first time in my entire life that I had ever heard a preacher affirm same-sex relationships. I later learned Rev. Jackson had also shifted from his earlier pro-life abortion position to a pro-choice, “reproductive rights/justice” position. His shifts on these two positions were baffling and troubling to me. By the time the election occurred in November 1984, I actually voted for Ronald Reagan. The reason why was because of Reagan’s/GOP’s policies on those two issues, versus Jackson’s/Democrats’ policies. The GOP has since abandoned their platforms on both issues. That leaves me a man without a political party—now a true independent. Rev. Jackson may have been ahead of his times on these two issues. I remain antiquated. The GOP moving closer to Rev. Jackson’s position, though, has freed me up to vote for either party’s candidate that I choose.
- In the late 90s, the Black Church community was divided over “The Million Man March” on theological grounds, not sociological grounds. I was invited to a meeting in New Orleans, and later in Dallas, where the most prominent names in Black preaching were present in a private, invitation-only meeting to discuss the Black church response to the Million Man March. I was the youngest preacher invited (to my knowledge), and the least known. I certainly was not invited on the basis of my preaching prowess, or size of my church. Nevertheless, I gladly accepted the invitation. Shortly after the meeting convened, in walks Rev. Jesse Jackson, who had been invited by Rev. James Meeks of Chicago. Rev. Meeks, who also opposed the Million Man March on theological grounds, but like the rest of us loved and admired Rev. Jackson; and they were actually close friends.
As the conversation ensued, I kept quiet, because I had been taught that when in a room with older, seasoned, prominent preachers, your job is to listen and learn; but certainly, not to speak unless asked.
However, at some point, the influence and charisma of Rev. Jackson was seemingly about to influence the room to take a neutral stand on the Million Man March. Rev. Jackson dropped a line in the room that I will never forget regarding Farrakhan, and why we should not denounce him or the March. Here is what he said: “If a man is falling off a cliff, if you touch him, it is homicide, but if you don’t touch him, it is suicide.” Basically, his point was that Farrakhan, all by himself, was not having great success in influencing believers in Christ to become members of the Nation of Islam; however, if we denounced him and the movement, it could have a boomerang effect. We would be better off simply not weighing in on the Million Man March. To be clear, there was no intention or goal to denounce Farrakhan at all. There was a discussion and later a decision made to denounce the Million Man March, again, based on theological grounds.
I felt compelled to speak up, although that was counter-culture to my training in a room as “the least of them.” I respectfully and lovingly challenged Rev. Jackson, and all present, to allow theology to trump sociology, and to let the higher purpose of not leaving believers in limbo regarding Farrakhan’s god, being the same as “The Triune God.” To risk theological confusion in the hearts and minds of believers, in order to by default appear to be in sociological and racial unity with the Nation of Islam’s Million Man March, was a bridge to far for the majority of us in the room to cross. Conflating “Gods” is syncretism and a violation of both religions. They marched under the banner “The Holy Day of Atonement,” without defining The Holy God or the meaning or means of atonement. That was theological malpractice.
We broke for lunch with that matter unsettled. During the lunch hour, someone walked up behind me and placed both hands over my eyes, as was often a kid’s game in my native state of Arkansas. I could not guess who it was, so I said, “I give up,” and gently removed the person’s hands; and it was Rev. Jesse Jackson.
His friendly disposition towards me, his expression of appreciation and respect for my gentle pushback of his positions, and surprisingly, his familiarity with a book I had written— “Beyond Roots: In Search of Blacks in the Bible”—really took me by surprise. We briefly chatted, expressed mutual love, respect, and appreciation for each other, and I left the meeting with a deep love for Rev. Jackson, although our theological differences and methodology towards responding to the Million Man March were miles apart.
- Later that same year, I traveled to Chicago to preach for Rev. James Meeks. On my bucket list was to experience Sunday Night Worship at Fellowship Baptist Church in Chicago. Rev. Clay Evans, was the presiding pastor at that time. I was free that Sunday night; so, I enthusiastically made my way to Fellowship for evening service, expecting to hear Rev. Evans. Lo and behold, Rev. Jesse Jackson was the preacher that night. I was seated near the back of the church thoroughly enjoying the renowned music ministry of The Fellowship choir. When Rev. Jackson got up to preach, he said, “Is that Rev. McKissic from Texas back there?” I held up my hands and shouted, “yes.” He then asked me to the pulpit, and asked me to pray the altar prayer at the close of his sermon. After church, he invited me to Rev. Evans office and said he wanted to visit for about 30 minutes. I was in utter amazement with his friendship, hospitality, and invigorating conversation. I was honored to spend time with him. Now as an adult, he imparted to me again a sense of “somebodyness.”
- My last time seeing Rev. Jackson in person was several years later. I was at the Detroit airport; and I looked up, and there was Rev. Jesse Jackson. He yet remembered me, and we again engaged in five minutes or so of small talk, that I thoroughly enjoyed. Rev. Jackson had a way of making you feel as if …” I am somebody.”
And, that is it…my sporadic history with Jesse Jackson. I truly love, honor, and respect him. The news this week inspired me to memorialize my history and relationship with him, as a means of grieving and emoting; and just in case one of my great grandchildren googles one day–William Dwight McKissic Sr./Jesse Jackson.
