Dear friends,
One of my most vivid memories of the Fourth of July is an evening spent on the National Mall in Washington DC. It was 1987, and I was doing a summer internship at First Congregational Church in Washington, D.C.
The church was deeply committed to living out our faith in the wider world. Every Sunday, they held adult education sessions, often centered on big challenges: homelessness, racism, and global inequality. The congregation, filled with people who worked for the government and for non-profits and advocacy groups, was not afraid to delve deep. Often, their analysis led them to critiques of our nation’s policies.
The co-pastors were Rev. John Mack and Rev. Barbara Gerlach. Barbara had spent time in Central America, and spoke boldly against our government’s role in those nations. John, my supervisor, was a Marine veteran who served in Vietnam. He told me about having to write letters to the parents of soldiers who had been killed.
On the Fourth of July, a group from First Church went to the National Mall for the concert and fireworks. We sat on the ground. When it was time for the national anthem, John leapt up from the blanket and stood as tall as I had ever seen anyone stand.
That moment shaped my understanding of patriotism. Patriotism is not about blind acceptance of government actions. It is not about pretending our nation is better than we are. Patriotism is about a love of country so deep that it leads us to examine our shortcomings and challenge our nation to live into the principles to which we say we aspire.
I find myself thinking about that moment on this Fourth of July 32 years later. I woke up this morning shaken by the images on the news. I am disturbed by tanks on that national mall. I am horrified by photographs of inhumane conditions in which men, women and children seeking asylum in our nation are being held.
I don’t feel much like celebrating today. What does patriotism mean on this Fourth of July? I would love to have a conversation with John Mack about it. Tragically, he died a few years ago, from a lung condition that may have been related to Agent Orange.
Would John have gone to the National Mall today? Would he have found a different celebration in which to stand tall for the national anthem? Would he be part of a silent vigil, another way of standing tall for the nation he loved? I trust that he would have found a way to express his deep love for our nation, to lift up the principles to which we aspire, and to speak out against the policies and practices that betray those principles.
I hold on to that memory of John standing tall as an expression of his love for our country. It prompts me to ask what it means for me to stand tall out of love for our country. I invite you to ask yourself the same question–to find your own way of standing tall.
Peace, Debbie