Exiles Who Dare to Dream

I have been in an increasingly deep funk lately.  It has progressed the closer we get to the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence on July 4.  I grew up a super patriotic kid, proud of my dad’s service in WWII, Eagle Scout, recipient of Scouting’s “God and Country” award, etc. 

When I was in fourth grade we had to write one of those “what do you want to be when you grow up” essays, and mine was one of several printed in the local newspaper on a very slow news day.  I had written that I wanted to be a Marine.  I’m sure my teacher and others reading that had to stifle a laugh that this runt of the litter had such delusions of grandeur. 

For the sake of brevity let’s just say that the war in Viet Nam, Kent State, my study of U.S. and world history, and our multiple misadventures in the Middle East have removed the rose-colored glasses I wore during my naïve childhood and adolescence.  And the last ten years have pushed me to the edge of cynicism and despair more times than I care to remember. 

This morning as I was reading “Braving the Truth” (a collection of essays by the late Rachel Held Evans and others) it hit me.  The words of Psalm 137 popped into my head, and I understood what I’m feeling. 

“By the rivers of Babylon—
    there we sat down, and there we wept
    when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there
    we hung up our harps.
For there our captors
    asked us for songs,
and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying,
    “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

How could we sing the Lord’s song
    in a foreign land?
If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
    let my right hand wither!”

I haven’t been taken captive and dragged off to a foreign land.  I’m still living a privileged, comfortable life right here in Ohio.  So I am not a physical exile, but my heart and soul resonate with those Israelite exiles in Babylon 2600 years ago.  The corruption, greed, injustice, and total disregard for the law and constitution we are witnessing is not from an oppressive foreign conqueror of our nation.  Those evils are being perpetrated by our own President and the wealthy elite supporters who refuse to stop him because they share his greed for power and wealth. 

Those of us who try to follow Jesus know God favors the meek, the poor, the peacemakers, and those who mourn.  We know Mary’s magnificent warning that God

“ Has brought down rulers from their thrones
    but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
    but has sent the rich away empty.”  (Luke 1:52-53)

We are exiles for now, and if we forget Jesus as our true ruler much more than our right hands will wither.  As people of the Book we know the rest of the story.  Those exiles in Babylon were liberated, ironically by Cyrus of Persia (modern day Iran).  The exiles and their descendants who had kept the faith returned and rebuilt Jerusalem. And their faithfulness gives us hope and strength to endure our own exile. 

So my prayer for this 250th anniversary is that of the psalmist.  Don’t let me forget the good, the ideals, and the soaring vision of Jefferson’s words.  The Declaration of Independence was never descriptive of what was in 1776 or what has been since.  The Declaration was and is aspirational, an idealistic picture of what we hope to become. We were then and are still fallible human beings continually striving to create a beloved community where all people are created equal and treated accordingly.

Inside me still is that little fourth grader who every morning repeated the dream of a nation where “liberty and justice for all” is more than a rote recitation.  It’s a goal worth striving for still, and it’s the hope this exile will remember and celebrate July 4th in the spirit of the great hymn, “Lead On O King Eternal” by Ernest Warburton Shurtleff :

“For not with swords loud clashing,
Nor roll of stirring drums;
With deeds of love and mercy,
The heavenly kingdom comes.”