You won't see this on Dr. King's memorial. Here's why it matters.

by Dr. Dan Kittle, President of Dakota Wesleyan University

On the Potomac River in Washington, D.C., not far from the National Mall, stands the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial. At its center is a 30-foot statue of Dr. King, the “Stone of Hope,” emerging from a surrounding “Mountain of Despair.” The statue is striking in its own right, but its deeper power lies in the story it tells, one of hope breaking through despair. The memorial also features quotes from Dr. King intended not merely to honor his legacy, but to invite reflection and conversation. Yet one of the more instructive elements of the memorial is a quote that is no longer there.

Did you know that more than a year after the memorial was dedicated, the U.S. Department of the Interior made the unusual decision to erase an inscription carved into the statue itself? That decision offers a timely lesson as we prepare to observe Martin Luther King Jr. Day, inviting us to reflect not only on what Dr. King dreamed, but on how he believed we were meant to live.

When I speak with students about why we celebrate MLK Day, I often share the story of the quote that was removed. When the memorial was dedicated in October 2011, the statue bore the inscription: “I was a drum major for justice, peace, and righteousness.” While powerful, those words were not an exact quotation. They were a paraphrase drawn from a sermon Dr. King delivered in February 1968, just two months before his assassination. The sermon, titled “The Drum Major Instinct,” offers guidance for how we might pursue the vision he proclaimed so memorably in his “I Have a Dream” speech five years earlier.

In “The Drum Major Instinct,” Dr. King explores our human desire for attention, the urge to be seen, praised and admired. He describes how we begin life, in his words, as “a little ball of ego,” and how that longing for recognition often follows us into adulthood. Dr. King warns that we lose our way when we seek to be like drum majors. A drum major leads a marching band at the front, dressed boldly, highly visible, and commanding attention. Dr. King was not criticizing the role itself but using it to illustrate our instinct to want to be out front, admired by others.

Before we dismiss this temptation as someone else’s problem, Dr. King reminds us that even good people can be drawn in by the desire for recognition. He observed that those working for worthy causes can still be motivated, at least in part, by the praise that comes with it. There is nothing wrong with affirmation; Dr. King himself encouraged us to channel our desire for greatness toward good ends. But our moral compass falters when our hunger for attention outweighs our commitment to purpose.

In our own time, a helpful test might be this: Are we more concerned with the number of likes than with the quality of our words? Do we choose the easier path to “success,” or the harder, more jagged path to a life of meaning? Do we want our churches, businesses and communities to be places of genuine inspiration, or do we seek admiration for our role in building them? Are we most concerned with the fragile social fabric that holds our democracy together, or with being loud, visible and persuasive?

As we honor Dr. King, we too often oversimplify his legacy, reducing it to a call for tolerance or racial reconciliation alone. A deeper engagement with his words reveals a far more challenging and compelling vision. His faith-filled message calls us beyond tolerance toward fellowship and shared responsibility. His legacy urges us to find callings that bridge divides, to lift up communities and to honor the dignity and humanity of every person.

Dr. King’s family and historians objected to the paraphrased inscription because it omitted the most important part of his message. In that sermon, Dr. King did not claim greatness for himself; instead, he called for a new definition of greatness altogether. He urged us to be servants to God and to one another, insisting that anyone can be great because anyone can serve.

Dr. King’s dream remains unfinished, yet I remain hopeful, grounded in his own words: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Dr. King repeated this often, reminding us that while we are unfinished people, our daily efforts to live with humility, love and purpose can help that arc bend a little closer toward communities marked by care and compassion.