ON GRIEF, GRATITUDE AND THE MATRIOTIC DUTY OF NATIONHOOD

As the United States approaches its 250th birthday, I’ve been sensing something stirring. Not patriotism exactly. It’s something more like “matriotism,” as there is a distinctly motherly tenor about the care and concem, the grief and gratitude, I feel for this nation.

I feel like a mom, compelled to look out for our republic in the throes of her adolescence.

Yet, ironically, expressing such maternal compassion has become something increasingly difficult to say out loud.

I love this country.

I believe it’s my responsiblity to lend her a hand.

As a mother.
As a soil builder.
As an artist, a healer, and grief tender, I’ve noticed it’s become trendy in some circles to denounce America as fundamentally irredeemable.

All around me in “progressive” spaces, I hear people portraying the entire American project as so deeply flawed that it deserves abandonment rather than improvement.

Of course, I understand where much of that frustration comes from. Our history of slavery, dispossession, racism, injustice, broken vows (and worse) should not — and cannot — be denied.

But good caretakers do not simply abandon our children when they go astray.

Any parent knows that children can be horribly mean. They can sometimes be bullies. They can break promises. This is not in dispute. But the question is:

What is our responsibility to tend the young nation which we inherit? How do we help her learn to keep the promises she makes as she grows?

Building the body of a nation, like the body of a child, is an enormous job requiring discipline, sacrifice, and tenderness. When our children (inevitably) make mistakes, we guide them back on track. And when they do well, we sing their praises and offer congratulations.

So as America reaches this developmental milestone, I think it’s important to pause for something that is becoming regrettably rare:

GRATITUDE FOR WHAT AMERICA HAS ACHIEVED

I don’t know any mamas who would wait until our children are adults before expressing thanks—we celebrate their achievements all along the way.

When they fall down, we pick them up. When they get hurt or they hit, we do not turn away. We recognize their suffering and their rage. We meet them in their pain, and keep loving them.

This, to me, is obvious. Yet, stating the obvious feels sadly necessary these days:

To declare our nation irredeemable in its youth is to dump the baby out with the bathwater.

As our little America toddles through its 250th year, still learning to balance on its moral legs, express its personality, and know itself, let us meet it with gratitude for what it has achieved, and grief for what it has broken.

Despite the fact this post might be unpopular, I need to stand up for my matriotic instincts to protect and praise our child as she reaches towards her beautiful potential.

In a time not so long ago, we all pitched in on the massive civic duty to help our nation grow.

Shall we …. ?

THE PRIVILEGE OF PLURALISM

Walk into almost any café in a major American city, and you’ll see people of every race, religion, language, style of dress, and cultural background successfully sharing the same space. People sit together, work together, drink coffee together, raise families together, argue, laugh, disagree, and continue living alongside one another.

These days, we seem to take this for granted.

We shouldn’t.

This level of pluralism and tolerance is an extraordinary human achievement. It wasn’t inevitable. It certainly wasn’t common in America only a few generations ago. And it remains uncommon in many parts of the world today.

No, we’ve not achieved perfect racial harmony.

No, we’ve not yet fulfilled every promise enshrined in the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution.

But can we take a minute to acknowledge how far we’ve come?

Can we honor the generations who struggled—often imperfectly, often courageously—to move this country closer to its ideals?

INDIGENOUS TEACHERS

Can we acknowledge much of our democratic wisdom is native to Turtle Island, and give gratitudes to those who have been here over the long haul, enduring the massive birthing pains of America?

At the time of the founding of the United States, the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Confederacy were already practicing a sophisticated system of representative governance, with checks on centralized power, and cooperation among sovereign nations. While historians continue to debate the precise degree of influence the brilliant “central fire” tradition had on the U.S. Constitution, there is broad agreement that America’s founders were deeply impacted by Indigenous political systems.

If we are to love this country honestly, we must both honor all of her ancestors, and engage in ongoing collaboration with our indigenous citizens, as we all move forward together.

America’s tapestry is richer, stronger, and more beautiful when we weave in the great Peacemakers whose systems—and whose stewardship—actively shape our inheritance.

MENDING THE FABRIC OF OUR NATION

Can we recall that some of our nation’s fiercest critics are considered among its greatest patriots?

Think of Frederick Douglass’ absolutely scathing speeches in the 1800’s, which called upon Americans to practice what we preach — not to burn the nation down. He referred to the US Constitution as a “glorious liberty document” and urged us to live up to it. Providing this type of ferociously well-meaning criticism is in fact, the duty of a nation’s citizenry. And it takes time.

Building something up over generations involves exponentially more work than striking a match.

As writer and civil rights activist James Baldwin famously said in his 1955 book, Notes From A Native Son:

“I love America more than any other country in the world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.”

Baldwin’s observation above comes from a place of deep conviction that American ideals are worth insisting upon, not discarding.

Not to mention:

HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT ELSE IS OUT THERE?

As I reflect on the health of our nation, I look around the world for frame of reference.

There I see billions of people living under harsh authoritarian rulers and warlords where criticizing leadership carries severe consequences — jail, social and economic exile, disappearance, even torture and death.

In too many regions of the world, freedom of expression, freedom of religion, freedom of the press, or even basic personal autonomy are fragile or nonexistent.

Meanwhile, many modern Western citizens today have stumbled into a thorny lowlands far beneath constructive criticism. Caught in these briars, we have allowed merciless and divisive political discourse to rip and tear at our national fabric.

We have become accustomed to comparing our young nation to some lofty mountain high fantasy which does not exist. Do we bother to look around anymore at the actual world, where free societies remain rare?

Have we considered that millions of women can be killed for simply letting their hair down? That hundreds of millions more live under tyrannical conditions where news and internet access is tightly controlled?

All nations considered, our little America might not be doing so bad after all.

Yes, there is a ton of mending to do. But I think it’s still possible–and vastly preferable–to stitch this glorious American quilt together in unity and brotherhood. Let’s not tear it to shreds.

AMERICA: INCUBATOR OF ARTS, CULTURE AND INNOVATION

We should be duly proud to live in a place where an astonishing amount of personal liberty has taken root. And that liberty is incredibly generative.

America has managed to produce a gargantuan amount of art, culture, and innovation in it’s short history. Our music, film, dance, sports and technology is revered around the globe. All this art is directly related to the high relative level of freedom that America provides to our people on the whole:

We worship—or don’t worship—as we choose.

We speak our minds.

We read what we want

We organize politically.

We protest our government.

We create art that criticizes and satirizes.

These freedoms didn’t simply appear from thin air. Our national cultures, movements and institutions were painstakingly built, defended, expanded, and handed down by generations before us.

I feel the voices of these generations rising in my throat, collecting into a holler — how wasteful, how disrespectful, how just plain stupid it would be to throw all this away!

Of course our successes don’t erase America’s failures, or condone wrongdoing. But neither should our failures erase our accomplishments.

AMERICA AS REFUGE

It’s also worth remembering that America has been, and continues to be, a safe haven for millions.

As a Jewish woman, this is deeply personal for me. While most other countries else slammed shut, America was willing to open its doors to hundreds of thousands of refugees fleeing Nazi atrocities. My own grandparents landed on these shores literally in tatters, and vowed never to forget the chance to begin a new life.

Today millions of Jews thrive in this country directly because of the uniqueness of American goodwill. In honor of the legacy of my ancestors, and the legacy of the USA, I offer this reminder of our duty to invest in the country which has invested so much in us.

This civic duty becomes more pronounced, not less, in times of crisis.

And the refugee story isn’t unique to Jews.

It’s a story shared by countless immigrants who continue to arrive here with nothing but a hope and a prayer. Multitudes of our honorable newcomers redouble their commitment to America during periods of growing pains. Many have worked overtime to develop systems that strengthen our nation.

Immigrants are, right now, actively holding the feet of our leadership to the fires of our most cherished ideals. They don’t have the luxury to sit there complaining. Their daily lives require them to develop robust mutual aid networks and political alliances — all civic labors which can be agonizingly difficult, but which benefit everyone.

Many refugees are modeling how “we the people” lead the way when corruption rears its head. They show us how to become shining examples of citizenship, not reckless vandals who tear down the very ports which harbored them. They treasure this country in all it’s complexity, and celebrate it when it’s time to celebrate.

Meanwhile, In a bizarre and perhaps cruel plot twist, many folks who have had the good fortune to live here for generations seem to be the ones most easily duped by oversimplified, good-evil binaries and false equivalencies.

For example, the ridiculous notion that patriotism is nothing more than a knee-jerk declaration that our country is beyond reproach.

Real patriotism asks something much more difficult.

It asks us to love our country enough to tell the truth about it, enough to mend what’s broken, and enough to refuse to give up on it.

It asks us to recognize that most asylum seekers don’t indulge in the folly of destroying their own shelter.

It asks us to wonder:

How long can anyone afford to take our citizenship for granted before our nation is starved of attention and affection?

When will we finally get real about the parenting responsibilities shouldered by a patriot, and a matriot?

YOU HAVE TO LOVE SOMETHING TO GRIEVE IT

As a ritualist, I know that love and grief are inseparable. To love something deeply is to be capable of mourning it when it is wounded, diminished, or failing to live up to its promise. Loving a country means being willing to grieve for it—not because you want it to die, but because you care enough to feel its losses honestly and to work toward its healing.

Criticism born from love strengthens a nation. Contempt born from hopelessness weakens it.

Too often today, we’re encouraged to see one another primarily through categories of race, ethnicity, or identity—to sort ourselves into competing groups whose grievances define us more than our shared humanity.

I don’t think that’s the future America was meant to pursue.

The American ideal has always been larger than blood or tribe. It is the radical proposition that people from every background can become one people while still honoring our differences.

We haven’t fully realized this dream of Unity.

But, then again, we’re only 250 years into the nation building project.

History is long.

Democracy is difficult.

Building a multiethnic republic is a tall order;

But the answer isn’t to abandon the child. It’s to keep nurturing her.

So this Fourth of July, I choose matriotism, not cynicism.

I choose gratitude for the freedoms I enjoy;
Gratitude for those who risked their lives for these freedoms;
Gratitude for the generations who believed this country could become better than it was;
And hope that my generation will leave it better than we found it.

I still believe in you, America.

I still believe in your beautiful, unfinished, vision.

So, on your 250th Birthday, I weep and I wail, and then I gett back up to tend to my — our — child. I commit to getting creative about what nationhood means, as we move into the next 250 years, together.

I hope this writing will be a small stitch in the reweaving of America.

I close with some music, 🇺🇸 “America,”🇺🇸 by the great songwriter Keeth Apgar. It perfectly captures the complexity of loving our country in this era of extreme spectacle and corruption.

🇺🇸 America, I love you. 🇺🇸