And Crown the Hood

I promise. That is how I learned the song. And crown the hood with brotherhood from sea to shining sea. I would swear by it, but I usually don't. Plus, I don't have the greatest track record when it comes to correct lyrics ("later on, we'll perspire while we dream by the fire" is not actually the line from Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland, in case you were wondering). And a good amount of the time I got more focused on choreography than so much the music (the thing is that you're supposed to somehow coordinate the two... you're welcome for that helpful piece of advice. If you know me, you know coordination is just a lost cause).

I'm a little late on the 4th of July train. Okay, a lot late. But there was Alias to watch and Steph had to go back to school and Luke started a new job and I was partying at Emily's house and the Berry's house and going to the pool and working. For short we'll just call it life. Boy, it gets in the way sometimes. In the way of important stuff. Like blogging.

Speaking of important stuff... freedom (that, readers, is a transition sentence for professionals). I've learned a lot about freedom from my political science classes at school. Not close to everything there is to know and I'm no expert, but it's like what makes the world go 'round, freedom. It is a fundamental part of a states' policy. And if I've learned anything from every single one of my classes over the past couple of years, it's that somewhere along the way freedom has become highly politicized. Whether a state has it or does not, no matter how it defines freedom, every nation, regime and government is measured by it. Most of the time the pursuit of it causes a stir.

Ask 17th Century philosopher John Locke: "Good and evil, reward and punishment, are the only motives to a rational creature: these are the spur and reins whereby all mankind are set on work, and guided." Locke advocated a smaller government than the Leviathan, or Commonwealth, proposed by his counterpart Thomas Hobbes. His argument basically says that people are rational and capable of handling a good amount of responsibility for the common good of the state. Hobbes believed in a nasty, brute, and short state of nature where common men are predisposed to fight for resources. In order to protect his property, man would be willing to give up a good amount of individual freedom for the common, thus personal, good. He was a larger government theorist, if you will: "The social contract is binding only so long as the sovereign [governing body] has power to enforce it. Sovereignty may be vested in a person or an assembly, but it must be indivisible, not a division of powers between King and Parliament, church and state."

What's weird is that these men, while representing totally opposite points of view, with theories that align easily to liberal (hobbes) and conservative (locke) ideas, the modern two-party American system sets the two up with way more contrast than necessary. Neither is a better or stronger advocate of freedom, they just have fundamentally different ways of going about it. And that's okay, I think. So long as the end result is freedom. I'm not a huge fan of the big-budget, far-reaching government (or presidential administration). I'm sick of the words subsidy and bail out and socialized, if you want to know how I feel. But is it wrong? And if so, what am I going to do about it? What sort of stand am I going to make?

I don't like the idea of being taxed a larger percentage because I am the product of a larger bracket. I don't like the thought of being told what doctor I can see and when. Oh, ho, ho, I hate that the government's portion of my worked-my-tail-off-making-smoothies check is going to make some nice cars for the people less hurt by this here recession to buy whilst I drive around in my 1998 Sunfire (which you will so be hearing about later on). But you know, I don't think these things are what is wrong with the world. And I don't think any reversal of these policies will fix a gosh darn thing. I mean, I might like it more, but I know about 3,001 other people at the University of Mary Washington, 98% of my educators included, who would rather move to Canada (and cross the border back to the US for the re-established private health care system) than see a conservative victory. So would it really do a whole lot to right the wrongs of society if I got my way? (especially since it is a common view among fellow members of my party that the liberal folks are the wrong of society). Nope. It would simply make the liberals mad for 8 years. How's that for change. So here I am thinking, will it do me any good to be a mad conservative for 8 years? Nope.

I will, however, continue in my belief that the government shouldn't take upon itself what should be the business of its citizens-- and that is common wealth. I'll give it to the liberals, though, we the small government believers aren't really doing the best job sharing the wealth. Not like wealth, wealth, though that is the most often focused upon. We aren't doing really well sharing the love. Because if we were (doing well, that is), there really would be no need for all the dang government programs. They would be church run, school run, business run, community run programs. So I could go on being all mad at Obama that I don't have the opportunity to do something really great because he's taking all my money and giving it to car dealerships or I could be truly honest with myself and ask what really great plans do I actually have to put forth? What good am I trying to do that I can't anymore because of politics? And is it really an administration that is stopping me?

I have a God whose good knows no party or politics. And there is no administration that's going to stop him. So if it's stopping me, He'll move right on down to the next willing servant. Oh, Lord, please don't.

What's more, I live in a land where I have the freedom to worship this God. What a privilege I celebrate this holiday. What a responsibility it entails. Hobbes put a lot of faith in the citizens he spoke of-- capable of handling a good amount of responsibility for the common good of a state. Moreover, God put a lot of power in the faith of His children. I hope I'm growing to where He finds that faith in me...

"So I sought for a man among them who would make a wall, and stand in the gap before Me on behalf of the land, that I should not destroy it; but I found no one." -Ezekiel 22:30 (NKJV)

"Do you want to stand out? Then step down. Be a servant." -Matthew 23:11a (MSG)

In our sermon this weekend, Mark Evans said something I've heard before but with a political spin for the first time. He said it's not about getting God on my side, it's about getting on God's side. It's not about having God on the conservative side or the liberal side. It's learning how to use different theories and gifts to contribute to God's side. And it can't be, I'm finding, like a presumptuous "oh, yes, I'm all up on God's side." It is a holy, humbled place to be. See? "Then the LORD said to [Moses], 'Take your sandals off your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.'" -Acts 7:33

When I think of common wealth and big government, I automatically think of welfare and from there my mind drifts to the hood. Little five year old me didn't know about all the social problems and racial issues of the world and hood back in kindergarten, but she might have been on to something. Because she probably saw that the hood needed a little brotherhood. Not necessarily from within-- they've got the "you scratch my back, i'll scratch yours" philosophy pretty much down. But from the outside, the hood could use some brotherhood. Like from little white west Little Rockian me. From conservative little me. The kids who dread weekends and holidays for lack of meals away from school could use a little good from me. Not in a spirit of my superiority, but in brotherhood. Or, rather, in sonship.

"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, 'Abba, Father.'" -Romans 8:15

Free to cry. Free to pray. Free to shout. Free to hear. Free to speak. Free to love. Free to live. Free to sing (albeit the wrong lyrics).

It's good to be an American. Can't deny it. Can't not appreciate the lives given to make it so.

But the freedom? It's not a political thing. It's not a state thing. It's a God thing.

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." -John 8:36

Dulce et Decorum Est

Well, it's Memorial Day, and I couldn't wait to put together an american flag-ridden post. Because that is just how I roll.

Case in point: today I drew American flags on at least 50 smoothie cups and wrote "Happy Memorial Day!" When I cheerfully offered that greeting to customers at the pickup counter, a few acted pretty surprised. At first I figured it's just because they hadn't heard it yet. Well, not from someone-- more like from an annoying mattress commercial using the holiday as an excuse to lure in customers with a sale.

For a lot of people, I figure the fact that it's memorial day hadn't registered. Because, let's be honest, for lot of people (including me) it becomes just a holiday.

A day for hot dogs and burgers.

And parks.

And pools (opening day, no less).

And smoothies (Oh my, I just realized I did not fit in the traditional bomb pop... shame).

All good things. And not inappropriate things since it is a holiday. A day to partake in leisure activities and all things American. Still, this is the one holiday where we are supposed to simultaneously enjoy ourselves and acknowledge the price of that ability to enjoy ourselves. Acknowledge the price.

The more I handed out smoothies with a smile and patriotic "happy memorial day!," the more I thought about what I was saying and who I was saying it to. Sure, some had come from the pool and perhaps hadn't considered the meaning of the holiday. Maybe some had pondered and were surprised that someone else was sincerely recognizing the point of this day off. Those were the scenarios that made me out to look good. You know, the high and mighty one who thought deep and hard and was out to make sure others did, too.

But maybe, just maybe, someone else had considered the day much more seriously than me. Children coming in with babysitters-- maybe their parents are in the military. Maybe the 40 year old man had served in his twenties. Maybe the mom with 3 kids under the age of 5--one on her hip, one wrapped snuggly around her leg, the other with a red ribbon tied in her curly blond hair dancing to the table--just saw her husband off on another tour of duty. Maybe she expects him home in a few days with no idea what to expect. Maybe one of my co-workers is headed off to the Air Force in a few months... well, that one is confirmed. Maybe my roommate is already thinking ahead to a future as a military wife. Maybe my brother has a friend who just died training to serve. The grandfather walking with a cane? Did he serve? The odds say he did. The odds also say a good many of his buddies didn't return with him.

Oh, Sadie, wise one. Probably more people than you know know a lot more about military service than you-- know a lot more about paying tribute, a lot more about paying price. So quit you bellyaching about the people not observing the holiday correctly and worry about honoring those people who know much more than you ever will about the cost.

I stopped addressing people like they were guilty of irreverence and started pretending like each and every one knew something about losing a relative to war-- either physically or mentally. Not happy peppy like I was celebrating better; sincerely, like I meant it.

Because the truth is that I do. I'd like to think I'm not a naive waiver of the American flag. It's not just for kicks. Not because I just feel like it or because I collect them. I don't hold it up out of arrogance or disrespect of anyone else's home country. Matter of a fact, wherever you're from whatever your cause, wave your flag and honor your soldiers. Yes, even you citizens of the enemy state. If it's my right, it should be yours, too. But as long as it is my right, I'm taking the time to thank those who made it their duty to protect that right.

Some not by choice or conviction. A lot by draft and circumstance. Some living, a lot dead. Some believing wholeheartedly in the cause of the American government, a lot strongly opposed. Some following orders, some defying them whenever given the chance. Some truly moved on, a lot forever haunted. Some receptive to recognition, a lot who'd rather soon forget. I recognize that not all believe in war, some don't believe in supporting the troops. Many feel it's a waste of lives and that the U.S. is just prideful. Perhaps I am naive in saying I don't care.

I don't raise the flag because America is perfect or even the best. I don't raise it thinking that some horrible stuff has not gone down on this soil. I don't do it thinking that each soldier was happy to lay down his or her life. I don't raise it as a white woman, a republican or a Christian, or at least not because of those things. I raise it to acknowledge the price. Because I do not want to be the ungrateful spoken of in this common Vietnam veterans' creed:

"We the unwilling, led by the unknowing; doing the impossible, for the ungrateful."

English poet Wilfred Owen wrote the following poem in 1918 about his own experience in WWI. He died on November 4 of that year in the Battle of the Sambre, one week before wars end.

Dolce et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

The last line of the poem is latin for "it is sweet and right to die for your country." A lie, according to Owen and, I'm sure, a lot of his comrades. If I'd seen how some of the men and women I'm supposed to be honoring today died, maybe I wouldn't declare with such zest "happy memorial day!" Many don't find war and death sweet and right-- go figure. But this I know: dulce et decorum est quod vox honoro muneris-- it is sweet and right to honor service.