Let America Be America Again
Usually on the Fourth of July weekend I like to fly the flag and dress in red, white and blue. I’m not so sure the flag will go up this year, and I might end up wearing black. I feel as though I ought to be in mourning for our country.
Last year at this time, the nation seemed to be rebounding from the trauma of the pandemic and healing (somewhat) from the violent attack on the Capitol on January 6th. I didn’t think we could become a more violent, mean-spirited or rage-driven society. I was wrong.
Every hour, a hate crime occurs somewhere in the U.S., according to the Brookings Institution -- incidents directed mainly at Asian Americans and Jewish Americans, although transgender people are also frequent targets.
Mass shootings in the first six months of this year have already surpassed last year’s number. Add to that the rage unleashed in the wake of the Supreme Court’s overturning of Roe v. Wade, and the drip-drip of new and disturbing revelations from the January 6th investigating commitee that show just how close our country came to a violent overthrow of a legitimate election.
Last week brought news of the tragic deaths of 53 migrants who suffocated inside a sweltering trailer on a remote road near San Antonio — a by-product of our inability to demand meaningful immigration reform from our elected officials.
Where is our compassion? Where is our concern for the common good?
As someone who has lived in three foreign countries at various times, I’ve always worn my American citizenship as a badge of honor. Whether I was living in France, England, or Italy, the people I met by and large held Americans in esteem. They admire what our country professes to stand for. In recent years, I’ve witnessed that view change. Instead of living up to our motto of e pluribus unum - out of many, one - we seem to have fractured into antagonistic tribes, each looking out for its own interests.
Such behavior is totally counter to gospel values in a nation that purports to be Christian. As a lay associate of a Benedictine monastery, I often seek guidance from the 6th century Rule of St. Benedict. Benedict wrote as the once mighty Roman empire was crumbling. In a chapter titled “The Tools for Good Works,” he gives us one of the most succinct and cogent prescriptions for right living:
“Your way of acting should be different from the world’s way. The love of Christ must come before all else. You are not to act in anger or nurse a grudge. Rid your heart of all deceit. Never give a hollow greeting of peace or turn away when someone needs your love … Speak the truth with heart and tongue.”
That last phrase always catches in my throat. There really aren’t “alternative facts.” There are simply facts. It would help to bind the wounds of these last few years if we could stop covering our ears to news we find inconvenient and acknowledge that what we would like to be true is sometimes at odds with what simply is.
I live part-time now in Italy, and have been researching the reasons why Italy endured more than 20 years of Fascist rule. The years between 1922 and 1945 were a time of violent repression, efforts at ethnic cleansing and imperialistic aggression. Those actions seem to be at odds with the open, generous, and hospitable character of the Italian people that I know. What launched a dictator like Benito Mussolini can be summed up in a single word: fear. In that sense, Italy offers a cautionary tale for the U.S.
Mussolini came to power amid economic uncertainty, changing social mores, and a loss of faith in traditional institutions. He responded by promoting an “Italy First” nationalism. He appealed to a hunger for civic pride by promising a return to the imperialist grandeur of the Roman Empire — hence all that classical architecture built during his administration. Once in power, he cracked down on the press, stifled opposition, and doled out largesse to supporters to insure he remained in power.
A technique he perfected was to state an evident falsehood so many ties that it eventually took hold as “truth” in the minds of a significant number of people. Sound familiar?
What astounds me was how swiftly Mussolini’s dictatorship took hold. If just a few more public servants had stood their ground, they might have stymied his drive for control. It took about five years for Mussolini to consolidate his grip on power. It took Italy 23 years to extricate itself from his grasp. It is a warning for those of us in the U.S. to remain vigilant if our democracy is to survive.
I go back once again to the wisdom of St. Benedict. He advocates a way of life that can be summed up in a single line from his Rule. “Be the first to show respect to the other, bearing with the greatest patience one another’s weaknesses of body or behavior.” In other words, we are our brother’s and our sister’s keeper. I like to think this faith-filled way of living is still also the American way of life.
That is my wish and my prayer for the United States this Fourth of July. With that hope in my heart, perhaps I will fly the flag. Perhaps I will put on some white slacks and my red-and-blue-striped top. Certainly wherever I am, I’ll try to live the Benedictine values, tame my own anger and frustration, and work to make America a place of compassion, inclusivity and peaceful dialogue.
In his poem Let America Be America Again, Langston Hughes writes words that are as urgent now as when he penned them in 1935:
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain —
All, all the stretch of these great green states —
And make America again!
What is your wish for America this Fourth of July?
Read Langston Hughes’ full poem at https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/147907/let-america-be-america-again
