Yesterday was Independence Day – the day we honor our national heritage and celebrate our most cherished principle, freedom.
But freedom is treasured most by those who know something of captivity and oppression.
“They answered him, ‘We are offspring of Abraham and have never been enslaved to anyone. How is it that you say, You will become free’?”
(I am living in exile . . . here in this land of the free).
‘Murika! “Even better than the real thing!”
‘Murika! “Everthing from toy guns that spark to flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark.”
‘Murika! Where talk-show hosts shepherd the flock and pop star prophets speak in strange tongues . . . can I get an amen!?
Let ‘Murika be America again!
Till then, you can cancel my subscription to the “better version of me”!
Mass consensus and virtual connection . . . valley of dead bones!
I’m gonna need a “barf bag” while I dispose of my conservative values and progressive justice ethics
(the rotting corpse of Christendom!).
“How can you turn back again to the weak and worthless elementary principles of the world, whose slaves you want to be once more?”
(We are living in exile . . . here in this land of the free).
Let us summons the courage to say the unsaid . . .
“Political independence is a historical phenomenon, an anthropological wish dream. The seismic shock waves that once emanated from our revolutionary epicenter have all but died out. As the saying goes, “History became legend. Legend became myth.”
“Yes, but as long as we have our ‘free speech’, we can still tell a story, a new story, a better story!”
“And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built. ‘Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another’s speech.'”
This goes out to all those afflicted with a “splinter in the brain” . . . those who would dare to risk treason and shame by whispering in the ear of a would-be comrade or informant . . .
(“Are we exiles here . . . here in this land of the free?”)
Who would ever seek asylum from a land called “liberty”?
Who would dare to even utter such blasphemy?
And why should He risk his reputation, offering exodus to the inhabitants of a country that bears his name – “God shed his grace on thee”?
Now on this 5th of July, I do not want to honor “freedom”, but the spirit of liberty. . . the spirit that whispers to those exiles living in this “land of the free.” I want to honor the spirit of liberty, the spirit who begets crisis and scandal. I want to honor the spirit of liberty who at once brings hope and makes us guilty of wanting more.
On this 5th of July, the morning after the revolution, as I sit here in exile, here in this land of the free, once again, I hear the spirit of liberty whisper in my ear and I reply . . . “Maranatha!'”