We should lament this Fourth of July
The U.S. Capitol after the January 6 insurrection. Photo by Ian Hutchinson on Unsplash
Last night, I was texting with a friend who moved out to Oregon a few years ago. He remarked how different the culture is and how heightened the political divisions are there. I asked him what he meant. He sent me this stunning article as an example.
I found this story fascinating, but there was one quote in particular that really jumped off the screen at me:
“When you have people who cater to resentment and everything is an existential fight — everything — it really becomes difficult to find common ground and problem-solve. That’s really where we’re at right now.”
Ooof, doesn't that hit home? I live in Tennessee, so Oregon is on the other side of the country from me. But I’ve seen this same mentality play out in all kinds of big and small ways the last few years.
This Fourth of July, it’d be healthier if stories like these were our focus. This weekend is supposed to be a celebration of our national independence. I honestly don’t feel like celebrating though. I feel like lamenting.
Lamenting those we lost in the pandemic.
Mourning the lack of our national unity, or maybe mourning the reality that it was never really there to begin with.
Mourning the slow bleeding out of our democratic institutions at the hands of the Republican Party.
Mourning that we are somehow still trying to whitewash our history of slavery and racism rather than working to resolve their enduring consequences.
Mourning the reality that so many conservatives are being radicalized into the destructive far-right faction that was embedded in our country at its birth.
Mourning that I’ve lost friends and places I care about to these realities.
Lamenting that I’m often at a loss on what to do about it.
I feel like lamenting because, in so many ways, we aren’t moving forward as a country. But mourning isn’t despairing. Mourning is how we begin to move forward.
Photo by Ryan Stone on Unsplash
Lamenting can help us discover what is good
About 10 months ago, I found myself talking to a friend who serves as a pastor. Most pastors will tell you that 2020 was the most brutal year they’ve experienced. Many had to face challenges they were never trained for: disinformation, conspiracy theories, and congregation members and other church leaders calling for their resignations because loving Jesus was suddenly considered “too liberal.”
As a Christian who is an actual liberal, I’ve heard such words hurled at me by white evangelicals more times than I can count. It’s one reason I’ve enjoyed my dwindling number of relationships with kind-hearted, conservative Christians the past few years. They too are victims of such attacks.
My pastor friend is one of these people and had experienced all of these things and more. He wasn’t angry, though. He said:
“Mark, I’m mourning. I‘m finally seeing everything you’ve seen up close and personal. The Church isn’t being the Church. I don’t understand my country anymore. It hurts, but the clarity that comes with mourning has honestly been a source of relief.”
The relief he found came when a handful of members in his congregation and a few fellow leaders saw his mourning and found ways to help. Some stepped in to deal with the most aggressive people, sometimes asking them to leave. Surprise dinners were dropped off at his doorstep. One congregation member even offered to pay for him to take a vacation.
Things still weren’t great, but the sharper edges had been worn down. More importantly, he discovered that he wasn’t alone. The good in real community revealed itself to him. It had been there all along.
The lesson I took away from his story became apparent at a larger scale when Joe Biden was declared the winner of the 2020 election. All of the conversations, voter registration drives, compromises, agreeing to disagree, refusing to despair…all of it acted as a check on the rising tide of authoritarianism we face. We managed to do what few other electorates around the world have been able to do: we held the line against fascism through the ballot box, peacefully.
Deep within those countless, overlapping efforts is a rough blueprint for unity between progressives, liberals, moderates, and even some conservatives moving forward. There is good that became apparent in the mess of 2020. As it turns out, it was there all along.
Photo by Trent Yarnell on Unsplash
Mourning helps us heal
Over the past five years, most Republicans and “conservatives” I know became more suspicious, mean-spirited, and controlling. Genuine curiosity about my liberalism slowly morphed into suspicion of my intentions. Productive conversations I used to be able to have with people I disagreed with were met with brittle hostility. My love for Jesus and others were increasingly seen as problems to be controlled and beaten down by others.
Like my pastor friend, I experienced flashes of righteous anger and pain throughout all of it. Looking back, I discovered that I’ve mostly been mourning though, often times without even realizing it.
Lamenting is a weird process. It isn’t a straight line and the world doesn’t stop spinning. We are forced to balance our daily responsibilities with the need to sit in sorrow and come to terms with whatever was lost. For me, I’ve found myself mourning for the people and places that have been swallowed up by the ravages of the far-right.
These past few months have been especially healing for me. Now that I’m in my new normal — away from many of these people and places — I’ve had the space to reflect on the chaos of the last five years. I’ve come to terms with the reality that most of these people are just out of my reach, at least for now. It’s been a breath of fresh air to just be away from all of it.
Closing Thoughts
The Biden Administration is spending this weekend with an America’s Back Together tour. It’s supposed to be a time celebrating opening back up and returning to a certain sense of normalcy. To me, it feels a bit premature.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m incredibly grateful for the competence we now have in the White House. We should celebrate so many shots in arms, businesses coming back to life, and the ability to gather safely again. Honestly, it’s been a bit jarring how quickly our situation has improved. There’s something to be said for good, basic governance after not having it for four years.
But part of me believes we should spend a little more time lamenting. We’ve all just been through a lot, with much still in ruins. There are so many broken relationships. Our partisan divide is worsening as Republicans continue to self-radicalize. Many of our faith communities are torn apart for good.
This Fourth of July, I think I’m just going to sit in all of this a little longer. Not because I’m angry or don’t want to move forward, but because there are still things I need to process. I’ll return to fireworks, grill, and family next year.
I explore faith and American church culture from Memphis, TN. Never miss an article by signing up for my free newsletter or becoming a member. You can also subscribe to my podcast.
