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.

America the Beautiful

We sang “America the Beautiful” in church last Sunday. 

I know the danger of mixing patriotism and religion: "civil religion", it's been called. And yet, there are those who expect at least a nod toward the flag on Sundays related to patriotic holidays. Some of my clergy colleagues really bow their necks and rigidly oppose what, admittedly, can be a deadly cocktail. Oh, they may condescend to mention it in a prayer or something. And, quite frankly, I don’t disagree with their theological reasoning.

For me, I find it more constructive to go ahead and include some patriotic expressions in the worship service, and to use my pastoral role as teacher to set what I consider an acceptable context for such inclusion. For example, last Sunday, here was my invitation to the Table (as Disciples of Christ, we observe communion weekly).

“As a minister, I struggle with patriotic holidays: Independence Day, Memorial Day, Flag Day… Not that I struggle with patriotism. I’m a combat veteran; I served under fire—served under the flag that stands to my right when I’m in the pulpit.

“I participate, when the pledge of allegiance is recited. Sometimes I tear up when I hear the national anthem—or the Marine Corps Hymn. I vote. I’ve held public office. I write my Congressional representatives on a regular basis. On national holidays we fly the flag at our house.[1] 

“I’m just not at peace bringing all that into this room. Oh, I have absolutely no problem displaying the flag or singing patriotic hymns. I’m just concerned about misplaced priorities. I’ve seen church fights over whether the American flag is on the wrong side of the platform. Patriotism and religious faith never have been a beneficial mixture. 

“In this room, this table is central. And at this table I hope we remember the words of that late addition to the pledge of allegiance: “under God.” And there are two ways to read that: (1) “One nation under God.” And I’d have difficulty affirming today that we are, indeed, a nation under God. (2) “One nation; under God indivisible…” And few would deny that, today, we are a nation divided.

“And so, in this room, I bring my love of country to this table, where I celebrate the God under whom rests the only hope I know for this nation to be, truly, indivisible. You are invited to share the loaf and the cup, and to remember the one whose sacrifice can truly unite us.”

But, I digress. We sang “America the Beautiful” in church last Sunday, and I felt tears beginning to sting my eyes. It wasn’t just the hymn, although it can be a source of emotion. What brought me to the verge of tears was a new insight into Katharine Lee Bates’ words[2], especially in the refrain. Each refrain is a prayer:

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee 

And crown thy good with brotherhood 

From sea to shining sea!

America! America!

God mend thine every flaw

Confirm thy soul in self-control

Thy liberty in law!

America! America!

May God thy gold refine

Till all success be nobleness

And every gain divine!

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee 

And crown thy good with brotherhood 

From sea to shining sea!

As we sang on Sunday, I realized that each of these refrains was a prayer of humility, asking that God guide our nation through and away from the human temptations motivated by greed or lust for power. And, given the depraved condition of our nation’s public life, it occurred to me that, on the eve of our nation’s birthday celebration, nothing was more appropriate for worship.

Postscript: Originally, I wrote in the paragraph above, “…the depraved condition of our nation’s public life today…” But, upon only a brief reflection, while America has authored eras of great and noble altruism, scientific and technical achievement, and charitable embracing of the down-trodden (both domestically and globally), our nation, from the beginning, has endured, sometimes just below the surface and sometimes out in broad daylight, a disgraceful flaunting of jingoistic, chauvinistic greed and lust for power. Indeed, it is precisely those decadent qualities that our founders sought to avoid by the creation of the Declaration of Independence, the Revolutionary War, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights, as well as in much that has been legislated since our founding.

And, while there is no political or economic system that is immune to the impact of such corruption, the work of our founders, with its self-correcting checks and balances, is thus far the single most effective human effort both to avoid and also to correct its damage.

America! America!

God mend thine every flaw!

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] Except for this year. I recently reorganized our garage, and the flag somehow is still in hiding!)

[2] Actually, the words we sing are “third generation”—a second edit (1911)—of Bates’ original poem, which was written in 1893.