American Neighborhood
I love the United States in that aching kind of way, like when you see the first glimmer of genius in a kid and through it infinite possibility. There’s something beyond all our shameful shortcomings—something that keeps calling us upward—in the words of its founding:
‘all humans'—let’s grow up to that—‘are created equal.’
As Madame Vice-President Kamala Harris puts it, ‘this is a country of possibilities.’
America is not a bloodline or an absolute hierarchy.
It’s an idea.
Three sets of wise words have felt like lanterns this past week for a way forward:
Abraham Lincoln’s, in his case to end slavery:
“The occasion is piled high with difficulty and we must rise with the occasion.
As our case is new, we must think anew, and act anew.
We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.”
Disenthrall: to step outside the spell of past thinking. To allow justice to spark imagination.
Walter Brueggemann’s definition of justice:
“Finding our what belongs to whom,
and giving it back to them.”
And W.H. Auden’s vision of neighborhood. Since I came New York City 11 years ago to be forged by its concentrated diversity, part of its harmony, and dig into Auden’s work, his lines have been a banner, a mantra:
“‘you shall love your crooked neighbor
with your crooked heart’
”
That’s the radical humility, the reverence for each other and our differences, and the stories they come from, that makes community possible. Harmony is only possible because of difference. Unity is so much more vibrant and interesting than uniformity. Black lives matter. Indigenous lives matter. Immigrants’ lives matter. (We’re all immigrants.) I am dreaming of cultivating a culture of humble curiosity that celebrates diversity. That leans in to learn from difference of background or opinion. We’ve got a lot of reconciling to do. With each other, with the land, with history. Deep listening.
It’s good, hard work.
I’ll go so far as to call it joyful.
You in?
