Musings of an Anxious Patriot

This weekend is the annual celebration of the day the American colonists' Second Continental Congress adopted the Declaration of Independence—July 4, 1776.

We’ll fly our flag proudly at home. Actually, we’ll fly three flags: one will fly on a staff over our curbside mailbox, and two smaller ones will be on display in the flower beds. We’ll grill hot dogs and possibly watch the movie version of the Broadway show, “1776.” We missed the show last year, but it’s become something of a 4^th of July tradition at our house since we first watched it with part of our extended family when we were vacationing in Fairbanks, Alaska eight years ago.

I am a veteran. I’m no hero. I was in the Marine Band at Quantico, Virginia until August, 1967, when I left for Vietnam. Before the Tet Operation in early 1968 I was primarily a trombone player in the 3^rd Marine Division Band in Phu Bai (about 14 miles south of the ancient citadel of Hue). When the Tet Operation erupted, the division moved to Quang Tri (just south of the DMZ), where we put our instruments away and served in various combat operations until I rotated out and came home. We rarely engaged the enemy.

I stand for the National Anthem. I place my right hand over my heart and frequently get misty; although, I bear no disrespect or ill will toward those who exercise their first amendment rights to kneel in protest of injustices that scarcely can be denied.

Occasionally I go online and watch a video of some Marine band on parade, and I get teary-eyed and experience a thrill when they hit those opening notes of the Marine Hymn.

I vote in every election, and frequently contact the legislators who represent my area. And I have served in public office.

So, I consider myself a patriot, and will celebrate the birth of our nation on Saturday.

But on Sunday, I will be in church to worship God and to give thanks for God’s grace. And in God’s sanctuary my patriotism will not express itself in celebration, but in repentance and prayers for forgiveness and healing. As the hymn says, “America! America! God mend thine every flaw.” And flaws abound. Nothing positive or constructive ever has emerged in the history of humanity from any mixture of patriotism and religion.

On Sunday I will pray that God will forgive the divisive, intolerant hatred that has infected the country I am proud to have served, and I will pray that God will heal our land. And no matter how passionately it is denied, hatred—some directed at specific people and some just ambiguous and generalized—is the root sin of our nation. It manifests itself most destructively in what has been called religious nationalism.

So, I’ll fly the flag on Saturday, and celebrate the nation that was “…conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”[1] I’ll celebrate the great vision that propelled our forebears: the vision articulated on our Statue of Liberty: "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

But on Sunday I’ll pray for forgiveness for what America instead has become and for the people destroyed in process of becoming what we are. And I will pray for reconciliation among the diverse peoples still at enmity within our borders, so that the vision in which America was conceived actually might be realized someday.

“If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, pray, seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14 NRSV)

That’s the way it looks through the Flawed Glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] From Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address.