RFK's Speech Announcing the Assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. Is a Message for Our Day

It was April 4, 1968 and Robert F. Kennedy was en route to speak to a group in the heart of the African-American ghetto in Indianapolis. He learned in the car that Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot and killed.

Local police advised against speaking. "We can't provide protection for you. People might riot," they warned.

Instead of retreating in fear, RFK spoke off the top of his head --- and from the heart -- to unify people with a message of love. Just a few months later he would be assassinated by Sirhan Sirhan, a Palestinian. But in the iconic moments of his speech on April 4, Kennedy spoke to the truth, even though it was difficult to say.

I have bad news for you, for all of our fellow citizens, and people who love peace all over the world, and that is that Martin Luther King was shot and killed tonight.

Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice for his fellow human beings, and he died because of that effort.

In this difficult day, in this difficult time for the United States, it is perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in. For those of you who are black--considering the evidence there evidently is that there were white people who were responsible--you can be filled with bitterness, with hatred, and a desire for revenge. We can move in that direction as a country, in great polarization--black people amongst black, white people amongst white, filled with hatred toward one another.

Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand and to comprehend, and to replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand with compassion and love.

For those of you who are black and are tempted to be filled with hatred and distrust at the injustice of such an act, against all white people, I can only say that I feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed, but he was killed by a white man. But we have to make an effort in the United States, we have to make an effort to understand, to go beyond these rather difficult times.

My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: "In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."

What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence or lawlessness; but love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or they be black.

So I shall ask you tonight to return home, to say a prayer for the family of Martin Luther King, that's true, but more importantly to say a prayer for our own country, which all of us love--a prayer for understanding and that compassion of which I spoke.

We can do well in this country. We will have difficult times; we've had difficult times in the past; we will have difficult times in the future. It is not the end of violence; it is not the end of lawlessness; it is not the end of disorder.

But the vast majority of white people and the vast majority of black people in this country want to live together, want to improve the quality of our life, and want justice for all human beings who abide in our land.

Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.

Let us dedicate ourselves to that, and say a prayer for our country and for our people.

Glenn reacted Tuesday on radio after playing Kennedy's speech:

"That's who we need to be. We need to tell the truth. What happened yesterday in Manchester will not stop until we all come to the truth, that it is about the Islamist. It is. Period. And we cannot live side by side with it. It has no reason. It has no compassion. It has no love.

"I'm sorry. I've tried to ban the word "evil" from my lexicon when talking about different ideologies and different things, but that is. When you are killing children, when you are raping children, when you are enslaving children, when you're enslaving adults, when it's my way or the highway, it is my way or death because God tells me I have a right to kill you, there is no other word than "evil." And that's just the way it is.

"Until we say there is a large group of people that are following Islam, the way it was in the Dark Ages, that have not had any kind of reformation and they want to take us back to the Dark Ages, well, I'm not going. And it's time that the West stands up and says you are either going to be a part of the future, which is bright, or you're not. But I am not going back to the caves and to the campfires and to the terror and slaughter that you want to bring us back to. I'm not going there."

Listen to this segement from The Glenn Beck Program:

GLENN: I want to take you back to April 4th, 1968.

Listen to this driving in today and thought it was really appropriate. April 4th, 1968. Robert F. Kennedy was about to speak to a group of people in Indianapolis. And on his way there, he found out that Martin Luther King had been shot and killed.

Local police said, "You can't -- you can't go. We can't provide protection for you. People might riot." It was in the heart of the African-American ghetto at the time.

He -- he's riding in the car, and he decides to scribble down a couple of notes. Nobody had helped him. Nobody said, "Here's your proposed draft."

He got to the crowd, and he stood at the top of a flatbed truck. And they handed him a microphone.

And this is what he said off the top of his head, not using any notes.

ROBERT: I have some very sad news for all of you, and I think sad news for all of our fellow citizens and people who love peace all over the world. And that is that Martin Luther King was shot and was killed tonight in Memphis, Tennessee.

(screaming)

Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice between fellow human beings. He died in the cause of that effort.

In this difficult day and this difficult time for the United States, it's perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are, in what direction we want to move in. For those of you who are black, considering the evidence evidently is that they were white who were responsible, you can be filled with bitterness and with hatred and a desire for revenge. We can move in that direction as a country, in greater polarization. Black people amongst blacks and white amongst whites filled with hatred toward one another. Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand and to comprehend and replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand compassion and love. For those of you who are black and are tempted to be filled with hatred and mistrust of the injustice of such an act against all white people, I would only say that I can also feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed, but he was killed by a white man. But we have to make an effort in the United States. We have to make an effort to understand, to get beyond or go beyond these rather difficult times. My favorite poem -- my favorite poet was Aeschylus. And he once wrote: Even in our sleep, pain which cannot beget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.

What we need in the United States is not division. What we need in the United States is not hatred. What we need in the United States is not violence and lawlessness, but is love and wisdom and compassion toward one another, feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or whether they be black.

(applauding)

We can do well in this country. We will have difficult times. We've had difficult times in the past. And we will have difficult times in the future. It is not the end of violence. It is not the end of lawlessness. And it's not the end of disorder. But the vast majority of white people and the vast majority of black people in this country want to live together, want to improve the quality of our life, and want justice for all human beings that abide in our land, with...

(applauding)

And want to dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: To tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world. Let us dedicate us to that and say a prayer for our country and for our people. Thank you very much.

(applauding)

GLENN: Robert F. Kennedy the top of his head.

PAT: Pretty amazing.

GLENN: Standing in a crowd that police had said, "They're going to kill you." And as we know, Sirhan Sirhan, a Palestinian, ended up killing --

PAT: Two months later.

GLENN: Two months later, ended up killing RFK. A man of great compassion and great wisdom who I think unlike others, actually felt this to the marrow of his bones.

STU: It's interesting to listen to that and realize that that first moment can't really ever happen again.

GLENN: No.

STU: That moment where he announces it and the crowd is shocked is basically impossible.

GLENN: Yeah.

STU: At this point, there's almost no circumstance in which something like that can happen, where the audience would be surprised by it. Because they'd all be seeing it on their phones before he told them.

JEFFY: Right.

STU: That's really -- I mean, that --

GLENN: To think that he found out in the car on the way. And was told, "You can't go." What would the tone have been had they known? What would -- would he have been able to deliver that speech?

Telling that group of people that could have turned --

JEFFY: Easily turned.

GLENN: Easily turned. Righteously turned.

For him to be able to deliver that speech -- he may not have had -- in today's world, he may not have had that opportunity. Because they already would have had their mind made up and their choice on -- on which course they were going to go. They had probably already would have made their selection. And they would be tweeting back. And they would be seeing the hate-filled screeds on their phone.

I heard that this morning, as I was driving in, and I thought, "That's the message for today. That is truly the message for today." We can choose, and we can choose to feel empowered, or we can choose to feel afraid. We can choose to feel hatred, or we can choose to feel love.

And to feel love does not mean that you don't take a stand. There is -- there is the other side -- if -- if love is your north, truth may be your West. It just means you need to move northwest. You have to balance the truth with love.

And sometimes, as long as you stay within the -- the rose of the compass, telling someone the honest trust, but telling them knowing and having compassion and trying to solve the -- the problem -- by saying, with all the love and respect that you can muster and mean, as if Jesus were saying it, it is about Islamists. It is. It is about Islamists. That's what's happening.

And I know the world doesn't want to hear it. But it's okay. And it must be spoken. And anyone who stands in the way and tries to create more division around the truth will fail in the end. You may beat me now, but you will fail in the end because the truth will prevail. It always -- the truth always returns. And as Rudyard Kipling said, with --

PAT: With terror and slaughter.

GLENN: With terror and slaughter, it returns. But it doesn't have to be that way. It doesn't have to return with terror and slaughter. It can return with gentleness and kindness and compassion. You just saw him return a group of people to the truth. Imagine what they were feeling. Imagine the righteous anger.

PAT: And he stood there in front of a predominantly black audience.

GLENN: Thousands. It was a black audience.

PAT: And told them that it was a white guy who did it. And, still, because of his tone, because of the things he was saying, because of the deftness of his words, it was fine. It worked out.

GLENN: And he delivered the truth. He didn't pander.

JEFFY: No.

GLENN: He didn't mince words. He just spoke with love and compassion.

PAT: Uh-huh.

GLENN: That's who we need to be. We need to tell the truth. This -- what happened yesterday in Manchester will not stop until we all come to the truth, that it is about the Islamist. It is. Period.

And we cannot live side by side with it. It doesn't -- it has no reason. It has no compassion. It has no love.

I'm sorry. I've -- I've tried to ban the word "evil" from my lexicon when talking about different ideologies and different things. But that is. When you are killing children, when you are raping children, when you are enslaving children, when you're enslaving adults, when it's my way or the highway, it is my way or death because God tells me I have a right to kill you, there is no other word than "evil." And that's just the way it is.

And until we say, "There is a large group of people that are following Islam, the found -- the way it was in the -- in the Dark Ages, that have not had any kind of reformation and they want to take us back to the Dark Ages -- well, I'm not going. And it's time that the West stands up and says, "You are either going to be a part of the future which is bright, or you're not. But I am not going back to the caves and to the campfires and to the terror and slaughter that you want to bring us back to. I'm not going there."

What our response to Israel reveals about us

JOSEPH PREZIOSO / Contributor | Getty Images

I have been honored to receive the Defender of Israel Award from Prime Minister Netanyahu.

The Jerusalem Post recently named me one of the strongest Christian voices in support of Israel.

And yet, my support is not blind loyalty. It’s not a rubber stamp for any government or policy. I support Israel because I believe it is my duty — first as a Christian, but even if I weren’t a believer, I would still support her as a man of reason, morality, and common sense.

Because faith isn’t required to understand this: Israel’s existence is not just about one nation’s survival — it is about the survival of Western civilization itself.

It is a lone beacon of shared values in the Middle East. It is a bulwark standing against radical Islam — the same evil that seeks to dismantle our own nation from within.

And my support is not rooted in politics. It is rooted in something simpler and older than politics: a people’s moral and historical right to their homeland, and their right to live in peace.

Israel has that right — and the right to defend herself against those who openly, repeatedly vow her destruction.

Let’s make it personal: if someone told me again and again that they wanted to kill me and my entire family — and then acted on that threat — would I not defend myself? Wouldn’t you? If Hamas were Canada, and we were Israel, and they did to us what Hamas has done to them, there wouldn’t be a single building left standing north of our border. That’s not a question of morality.

That’s just the truth. All people — every people — have a God-given right to protect themselves. And Israel is doing exactly that.

My support for Israel’s right to finish the fight against Hamas comes after eighty years of rejected peace offers and failed two-state solutions. Hamas has never hidden its mission — the eradication of Israel. That’s not a political disagreement.

That’s not a land dispute. That is an annihilationist ideology. And while I do not believe this is America’s war to fight, I do believe — with every fiber of my being — that it is Israel’s right, and moral duty, to defend her people.

Criticism of military tactics is fair. That’s not antisemitism. But denying Israel’s right to exist, or excusing — even celebrating — the barbarity of Hamas? That’s something far darker.

We saw it on October 7th — the face of evil itself. Women and children slaughtered. Babies burned alive. Innocent people raped and dragged through the streets. And now, to see our own fellow citizens march in defense of that evil… that is nothing short of a moral collapse.

If the chants in our streets were, “Hamas, return the hostages — Israel, stop the bombing,” we could have a conversation.

But that’s not what we hear.

What we hear is open sympathy for genocidal hatred. And that is a chasm — not just from decency, but from humanity itself. And here lies the danger: that same hatred is taking root here — in Dearborn, in London, in Paris — not as horror, but as heroism. If we are not vigilant, the enemy Israel faces today will be the enemy the free world faces tomorrow.

This isn’t about politics. It’s about truth. It’s about the courage to call evil by its name and to say “Never again” — and mean it.

And you don’t have to open a Bible to understand this. But if you do — if you are a believer — then this issue cuts even deeper. Because the question becomes: what did God promise, and does He keep His word?

He told Abraham, “I will bless those who bless you, and curse those who curse you.” He promised to make Abraham the father of many nations and to give him “the whole land of Canaan.” And though Abraham had other sons, God reaffirmed that promise through Isaac. And then again through Isaac’s son, Jacob — Israel — saying: “The land I gave to Abraham and Isaac I give to you and to your descendants after you.”

That’s an everlasting promise.

And from those descendants came a child — born in Bethlehem — who claimed to be the Savior of the world. Jesus never rejected His title as “son of David,” the great King of Israel.

He said plainly that He came “for the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” And when He returns, Scripture says He will return as “the Lion of the tribe of Judah.” And where do you think He will go? Back to His homeland — Israel.

Tamir Kalifa / Stringer | Getty Images

And what will He find when He gets there? His brothers — or his brothers’ enemies? Will the roads where He once walked be preserved? Or will they lie in rubble, as Gaza does today? If what He finds looks like the aftermath of October 7th, then tell me — what will be my defense as a Christian?

Some Christians argue that God’s promises to Israel have been transferred exclusively to the Church. I don’t believe that. But even if you do, then ask yourself this: if we’ve inherited the promises, do we not also inherit the land? Can we claim the birthright and then, like Esau, treat it as worthless when the world tries to steal it?

So, when terrorists come to slaughter Israelis simply for living in the land promised to Abraham, will we stand by? Or will we step forward — into the line of fire — and say,

“Take me instead”?

Because this is not just about Israel’s right to exist.

It’s about whether we still know the difference between good and evil.

It’s about whether we still have the courage to stand where God stands.

And if we cannot — if we will not — then maybe the question isn’t whether Israel will survive. Maybe the question is whether we will.

America’s moral erosion: How we were conditioned to accept the unthinkable

MATHIEU LEWIS-ROLLAND / Contributor | Getty Images

Every time we look away from lawlessness, we tell the next mob it can go a little further.

Chicago, Portland, and other American cities are showing us what happens when the rule of law breaks down. These cities have become openly lawless — and that’s not hyperbole.

When a governor declares she doesn’t believe federal agents about a credible threat to their lives, when Chicago orders its police not to assist federal officers, and when cartels print wanted posters offering bounties for the deaths of U.S. immigration agents, you’re looking at a country flirting with anarchy.

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic.

This isn’t a matter of partisan politics. The struggle we’re watching now is not between Democrats and Republicans. It’s between good and evil, right and wrong, self‑government and chaos.

Moral erosion

For generations, Americans have inherited a republic based on law, liberty, and moral responsibility. That legacy is now under assault by extremists who openly seek to collapse the system and replace it with something darker.

Antifa, well‑financed by the left, isn’t an isolated fringe any more than Occupy Wall Street was. As with Occupy, big money and global interests are quietly aligned with “anti‑establishment” radicals. The goal is disruption, not reform.

And they’ve learned how to condition us. Twenty‑five years ago, few Americans would have supported drag shows in elementary schools, biological males in women’s sports, forced vaccinations, or government partnerships with mega‑corporations to decide which businesses live or die. Few would have tolerated cartels threatening federal agents or tolerated mobs doxxing political opponents. Yet today, many shrug — or cheer.

How did we get here? What evidence convinced so many people to reverse themselves on fundamental questions of morality, liberty, and law? Those long laboring to disrupt our republic have sought to condition people to believe that the ends justify the means.

Promoting “tolerance” justifies women losing to biological men in sports. “Compassion” justifies harboring illegal immigrants, even violent criminals. Whatever deluded ideals Antifa espouses is supposed to somehow justify targeting federal agents and overturning the rule of law. Our culture has been conditioned for this moment.

The buck stops with us

That’s why the debate over using troops to restore order in American cities matters so much. I’ve never supported soldiers executing civilian law, and I still don’t. But we need to speak honestly about what the Constitution allows and why. The Posse Comitatus Act sharply limits the use of the military for domestic policing. The Insurrection Act, however, exists for rare emergencies — when federal law truly can’t be enforced by ordinary means and when mobs, cartels, or coordinated violence block the courts.

Even then, the Constitution demands limits: a public proclamation ordering offenders to disperse, transparency about the mission, a narrow scope, temporary duration, and judicial oversight.

Soldiers fight wars. Cops enforce laws. We blur that line at our peril.

But we also cannot allow intimidation of federal officers or tolerate local officials who openly obstruct federal enforcement. Both extremes — lawlessness on one side and militarization on the other — endanger the republic.

The only way out is the Constitution itself. Protect civil liberty. Enforce the rule of law. Demand transparency. Reject the temptation to justify any tactic because “our side” is winning. We’ve already seen how fear after 9/11 led to the Patriot Act and years of surveillance.

KAMIL KRZACZYNSKI / Contributor | Getty Images

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic. The left cannot be allowed to shut down enforcement, and the right cannot be allowed to abandon constitutional restraint.

The real threat to the republic isn’t just the mobs or the cartels. It’s us — citizens who stop caring about truth and constitutional limits. Anything can be justified when fear takes over. Everything collapses when enough people decide “the ends justify the means.”

We must choose differently. Uphold the rule of law. Guard civil liberties. And remember that the only way to preserve a government of, by, and for the people is to act like the people still want it.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

In the quiet aftermath of a profound loss, the Christian community mourns the unexpected passing of Dr. Voddie Baucham, a towering figure in evangelical circles. Known for his defense of biblical truth, Baucham, a pastor, author, and theologian, left a legacy on family, faith, and opposing "woke" ideologies in the church. His book Fault Lines challenged believers to prioritize Scripture over cultural trends. Glenn had Voddie on the show several times, where they discussed progressive influences in Christianity, debunked myths of “Christian nationalism,” and urged hope amid hostility.

The shock of Baucham's death has deeply affected his family. Grieving, they remain hopeful in Christ, with his wife, Bridget, now facing the task of resettling in the US without him. Their planned move from Lusaka, Zambia, was disrupted when their home sale fell through last December, resulting in temporary Airbnb accommodations, but they have since secured a new home in Cape Coral that requires renovations. To ensure Voddie's family is taken care of, a fundraiser is being held to raise $2 million, which will be invested for ongoing support, allowing Bridget to focus on her family.

We invite readers to contribute prayerfully. If you feel called to support the Bauchams in this time of need, you can click here to donate.

We grieve and pray with hope for the Bauchams.

May Voddie's example inspire us.

Loneliness isn’t just being alone — it’s feeling unseen, unheard, and unimportant, even amid crowds and constant digital chatter.

Loneliness has become an epidemic in America. Millions of people, even when surrounded by others, feel invisible. In tragic irony, we live in an age of unparalleled connectivity, yet too many sit in silence, unseen and unheard.

I’ve been experiencing this firsthand. My children have grown up and moved out. The house that once overflowed with life now echoes with quiet. Moments that once held laughter now hold silence. And in that silence, the mind can play cruel games. It whispers, “You’re forgotten. Your story doesn’t matter.”

We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

It’s a lie.

I’ve seen it in others. I remember sitting at Rockefeller Center one winter, watching a woman lace up her ice skates. Her clothing was worn, her bag battered. Yet on the ice, she transformed — elegant, alive, radiant.

Minutes later, she returned to her shoes, merged into the crowd, unnoticed. I’ve thought of her often. She was not alone in her experience. Millions of Americans live unseen, performing acts of quiet heroism every day.

Shared pain makes us human

Loneliness convinces us to retreat, to stay silent, to stop reaching out to others. But connection is essential. Even small gestures — a word of encouragement, a listening ear, a shared meal — are radical acts against isolation.

I’ve learned this personally. Years ago, a caller called me “Mr. Perfect.” I could have deflected, but I chose honesty. I spoke of my alcoholism, my failed marriage, my brokenness. I expected judgment. Instead, I found resonance. People whispered back, “I’m going through the same thing. Thank you for saying it.”

Our pain is universal. Everyone struggles with self-doubt and fear. Everyone feels, at times, like a fraud. We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

We were made for connection. We were built for community — for conversation, for touch, for shared purpose. Every time we reach out, every act of courage and compassion punches a hole in the wall of isolation.

You’re not alone

If you’re feeling alone, know this: You are not invisible. You are seen. You matter. And if you’re not struggling, someone you know is. It’s your responsibility to reach out.

Loneliness is not proof of brokenness. It is proof of humanity. It is a call to engage, to bear witness, to connect. The world is different because of the people who choose to act. It is brighter when we refuse to be isolated.

We cannot let silence win. We cannot allow loneliness to dictate our lives. Speak. Reach out. Connect. Share your gifts. By doing so, we remind one another: We are all alike, and yet each of us matters profoundly.

In this moment, in this country, in this world, what we do matters. Loneliness is real, but so is hope. And hope begins with connection.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.