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| The true meaning of July 4th |
by Amanda Taylor
Recently my world came crashing to a halt when I learned that
the signing of the Declaration of Independence was actually carried out on July
2nd, and not on July 4th,
the day in American society when we all lose our minds over the founding
fathers and the beauty of this nation and fire in the sky and
blueberry-strawberry sheet cake flags.
“…Nothing
happened in Congress on July 4th, 1776. (John) Adams, who had
responded with such depth of feeling to the events of July 2, recorded not a
word of July 4. Of (Thomas) Jefferson’s day, it is known only that he took time
off to shop for ladies’ gloves and a new thermometer.”
Oh really? I’ve
spent all this time and energy and reflection every Fourth of July meditating
on democracy and boldness in action and depth of commitment and principles and
complexities of citizenship all while making an inspirational freedom cake to
celebrate Thomas Jefferson’s purchase of ladies gloves?
Is that so?
I am incredulous. I am outraged. I am…already over it. The
whole process of learning about this, then feeling some combination of
betrayal, shock and confusion, before giving way to acceptance of this
fascinating secret, seems to parallel the way I consume information about the
Bible, as well as faith paradigms, their history, and countless other facts surrounding everything about
religion.
I grew up learning about the rules of religion, facts
associated with the Bible that all compounded to make a very genuine, very real
story about the history and salvation of the world; various datum stacked one
on top of the other to create a Jenga tower of truth. Over time it began to
feel that if any one Jenga piece were pulled out and called into question, the
whole tower might fall. Each fact needed to be true in its own right, layered
among other truths that were dependent on one another to keep the entire story
sound, intact, sturdy.
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| Nooooooo!! |
If you’ve ever played Jenga then you have an understanding
of the immense laser-focus needed to handle each piece with the utmost care,
steadying your breathing, your body’s stance, and your nerves to move one of
those 54 blocks to the top of the tower. Each is the most important block in
that moment, until the moment shifts, the players shift, and a new piece
becomes the sole focus of the game.
I wonder how much of my life I’ve spent studying faith in
this way. Any given fact, any given element that serves to build the tower, is
fundamentally tied to the truth and stability of the whole. Was the earth built
in 6 days? Did a donkey really talk to Balaam the diviner? Did Joshua stop the
sun from shining? What does this tell us? There is incessantly a temptation and
a need to believe the finite, external meanings of these words in order to fold
ourselves into the boxed tower they create. Then we ask ourselves if we are
right. Or not. Will it stand? Or fall? Are these the building blocks of faith?
In some ways I think they are, so I don’t discredit or
devalue their existence. The problem with the Jenga illustration is that you build the tower first. You weave it together into a stable
entity, and then pick it apart at your leisure and entertainment to see what
happens. I don’t think we build faith this way. It is my understanding that
instead we stumble into it graciously.
When push comes to shove we have to start talking about what
we believe in, what we think is real, and why. I avoid these conversations in
most settings because I’ve found the process of defining the various amorphous
components of faith to be imperfect, and I don’t like being bound to this
inevitable shortcoming. In describing my truths, you will instinctively begin
comparing them to yours, which is good, but if we lose each other somewhere
along the line you start to become the other, which is bad. These disparities
of belief grow increasingly exclusive, and we clutch our facts tight against
the chest and peer outward, with a careful, vigilant eye.
Yet time and again the facts are called into question, and
it’s the larger story we’re left with. Is it still real when we can’t
understand the particulars that have built it? The insular practice of
maintaining correctness in all forms is not only exhausting, but a direct path
to stagnation and defense. Yet the flip side of that coin is to believe in
everything, to avoid “correctness” and to acknowledge all faith as good faith,
as truth. This is troublesome, too easy, and lacks the difficult aspect of
religious submission that requires us to actually commit.
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| Happy Socially Accepted Day of Celebration |
I don’t mind in the end if the Declaration of Independence
was signed on the 2nd or the 4th, or a month later (when
the majority of delegates signed it). Maybe it was signed on the 4th
after all, as Adams and Jefferson contended late in life, and history is
confused. The document was signed. It is real, and it impacts my life and my
country, and stands as a representation of fundamental principles of justice
and humanity. These are the things I celebrate as I build my delicious flag
cake. As a unified body, it helps us all to have a single day to stop and
reflect, and the day that has been chosen is each Fourth of July. This, as a manifestation of recognition and indebtedness is good,
and the celebration of the underlying truths is good, and lest we forget, our God
more than anything, He is good.
Amanda works in “community
development” and no, she doesn’t know what that means either. Forever the
critic. And enthusiast. Never one for dichotomies. Follow her on Twitter @tayloram03 if
you’re not into receiving tweets.
You can also follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
You can also follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
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