January 2021 The Lights of this City on a Hill have been Dimmed

 

The Lights of this City on a Hill have been Dimmed

Given the conditions of newspaper publishing, I began working on this column the week of the Capitol riots, so that it could be published the week of President Joe Biden’s inauguration. Watching the riots at the time, my mind was a furious blank. But over time, some memories assembled.

In 2010, I joined my daughter on a mission trip to Kenya, to support the Tumaini Children’s Ministry in Nyeri. Our trip was to conclude with a tour of Nairobi, Kenya’s capitol, before flying home.

Instead, we spent our time locked inside a gated church complex. After all, no one could have anticipated that on that day Kenyans would be voting on their new Constitution, their third in less than sixty years. Given their past history, neither our hosts nor the country honestly knew if violence would break out in the streets, especially those of the capitol.

The television was on late into the night, watching the results come in. Though people had been quick to give us copies of the proposed Constitution, we did not know the issues at hand or the fairness of the document. We just knew the country was on knife’s edge, waiting. But despite the fears, there was no rioting or protest.

Fast-forward five years. Our Kenyan hosts came to visit us. When we took them to Philadelphia, we thought we understood their excitement. They were going to this big and famous American city. But we had no idea.

Going to Independence Hall was akin to Muslims going to Mecca, or Roman Catholics going to the Vatican. Our Kenyan friends knew early American history as well as – maybe better than – most citizens. They posed proudly with statues of George Washington and other Founding Fathers, the Liberty Bell, standing for photos where the Declaration of Independence and Constitution were signed. These weren’t tourists, taking in the sites; this was The American Experience.

And seen anew through their eyes, I felt a swell of national pride and patriotism. The United States and its ideals were a source of hope, a light on a hill for all to see. Around the world, Kenyans and so many others aspired to this hope, a sign of what their country could be.

And now that light has been dimmed.

While too many American citizens have been denied their full constitutional rights, others, like myself, are fish who have always swum in democracy. We don’t just take our freedoms for granted; they are so much a part of our reality we don’t even think about them.

Until a day like January 6, 2021 happens. When we see violence and riot in our halls of government. When we see just how easily those elected to represent us, those called to serve and protect us, can be harmed in service to their country. Not by some foreign adversary, but by people claiming those same freedoms. And the world is watching.

Joni Mitchell sang, “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” Or perhaps like I was in Philadelphia, we do know what we have. We just never imagined we could lose it.

That isn’t to say we no longer have the democracy we’ve known for nearly 250 years, or that the country can’t somehow emerge from our divisions better than ever. Faith tells us that with God, all things are possible. But January’s riots left a mark that may prove indelible. A wound not as long as the Civil War, but no less deep.

It is said that to sing once is to pray twice. In what might have been our national anthem, may we join Katherine Bates in this prayer so appropriate at this time: “America! America! God mend thine ev'ry flaw, confirm thy soul in self-control, thy liberty in law.” May it be so.