God Bless America?
I can taste the hotdogs and hamburgers, the potato chips on the side, and the coleslaw that I put on my plate out of obligation with no intention of touching. I can hear the laughter of children and the sounds of splashing as they jump in the pool. And surrounding—or maybe invading—all of this I can smell that specifically summertime combination of sweat, sunscreen, and bugspray.
But none of that matters because the taste, sounds, and smells of the Fourth of July are only appetizers to the sights. The red, white, and blue decorations are only the preamble. It’s all about the fireworks.
The slow single shooters that fly straight up before looping off into different directions like arrows shot lazily from a bow. The big bangers that explode at such a loud volume that little kids cover their ears in terror while simultaneously shrieking with joy. Or, my personal favorite, the sizzling sparklers that rise quickly and spray tiny shimmers of gold across the sky in successive spurts.
It’s picturesque, this scene. One that many Americans are familiar with and one that I look forward to this week with admitted hesitation. This year, the scale that balances my pride for this nation with concern for its future leans heavily towards the latter. This concern—caused by a combination of the man in the White House, the consistent and visible mistreatment of minorities, and the lack of religious revival (to name a few)—leads to questions.
How do we cheer for liberty when so many in our nation—not to mention those around the world—live under oppressors? How do we celebrate unity when we live in a nation defined by distrust and discord? How do we applaud justice when innocent men lie in graves and guilty men walk free? This celebration—one of liberty, unity, and justice—doesn’t quite feel appropriate in times like these.
Never in my life have I questioned that we live in a nation worth celebrating. Yet, suddenly “God Bless America” has turned from a patriotic statement to a desperate plea. Democracy is remarkable, and the fact that it’s worked as well as it has for as long as it has is remarkable too. But before I can touch a lit match to the fuse of a firework, I have to pause. Are we living in times worth celebrating? In a country worth celebrating?
As I think of an answer, I can hear the voice of Phillipa Soo as Eliza Hamilton instructing me to, “Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now.” And of course. Of course, we are lucky to be alive right now. There’s so much good worth celebrating that of course I should look forward to the Fourth.
But maybe it isn’t about looking forward to a holiday or looking around today. Maybe it’s about looking up—at fireworks, yes, but, better yet, looking up to something outside of ourselves. These gleeful explosions make for an enrapturing display, to the point where we often forget their backdrop. The fireworks meant to celebrate freedom and a faith in ourselves inadvertently draw our eyes to something better.
The truth is that faith in ourselves is as fleeting as the explosion of a firework. Self-faith may seem bright and exciting at first, but it will ultimately fade away without a faith in something greater than ourselves. And though the fireworks will disappear after a few moments, the sky behind them and the God over us all will never leave.
The fireworks will flash in the sky, but we have the opportunity to look beyond them. This temporary display of celebration fades in comparison to the permanence of the Creator of it all. So, this year I will look beyond the fireworks to something better. Why? Because the heavens above us hold more hope than our hands could ever carry. And that good news is meant for all of us.
Whether you are sitting in a foldable chair on a country club lawn, on a blanket in a public park, on the grass near a river, or on the hood of a car in a parking lot, don’t forget to look up at both the fireworks and the vast canvas behind them. Because despite the differences of where we all sit, we are all under the same night sky.
God Bless America.