Today is the 4th of July, and we have been free of the tyrannies and predations of the House of Hanover for 232 years now. Tyrants and predators have not disappeared from the earth however, and so this evening I would urge everyone to set off a firecracker or squib as a kind of taunt and challenge.
Regular readers of this blog know that I believe there are all kinds of established follies running through the corridors of American power, yelling and reeling like drunken chimpanzees. The same thing goes for the corridors of American cultural influence — the established media, Hollywood, the publishing industry, and so on — only here we must deal with orangutans under the influence of trade gin. Just like at the zoo, these worthy simians spend their time pelting the customers with primate poo. We call these brown missiles laws, regulations, bestsellers, and movies.
The intellectual and historical dishonesty that undergirds our public self-understanding is breathtaking in its scope and ambition, and is hollow as a jug. Virtually everywhere I look, somebody is talking nonsense. Time to despair, right?
Actually, no. In the long run, stupidity never works. Social critics like me tend to think that everything is measured in terms of the problems they see, but they often miss — not surprisingly — the things they don’t see. God knows what He is doing, and God is in control of human history. A corollary of this is that we are not in control of human history; we are merely instruments in His hands. And if we are instruments in His hands, we need to learn to think of ourselves that way, and seek to cultivate the demeanor that is appropriate to that role.
Critics of all things American from the “left” are scolds. They are shrill, boney, humorless prudes. They are fussers, handwringers, and wowsers. They are pencil-necked, parsimonious, and poisonous. They like to call themselves liberals, but the only thing they are liberal with is criticism of what somebody else might be doing with his own time and money.
Critics of all things American from the “right” are paranoid and fearful. They are shifty and conspiratorial, and attribute that same sneakiness to their adversaries. They believe that the rampant sin in our nation is all imported from somewhere else. Their eyes are too close together, and they tend to be monomanaical cranks. Sin is not something Americans can do, but rather is the word they use to describe people becoming un-American.
A plague on both their houses. What we need, and need desperately, is opposition from Americans to the way America is drifting in her apostasy. In order for Americans to be able to do this, we must surrender all pretensions and submit any honor and glory that is left to Christ.
Opposition to idolatry is not safe apart from natural affection. Opposition to idolatry apart from affection is the most insidious idolatry of all. A dour and severe iconoclast can reach every idol except for the one he has set up in his own heart. Hating idolatry without affection is the most subtle snare that the serpent ever crafted. But since all who fear the Lord are called to hate evil, this means that we must hate all idolatry, including the idolatry of idolatry-hating. And so if my argument is correct, this means that we must do so with a ferocity that is matched only by our cultivation of deep affection for our people, our nation, our customs, and our manners. Put another way, Americanism is a damned idol. America is a country where I have difficulty looking in any direction without gratitude and affection.
I hope I have made it clear over the years that I have no patience with the idolatarous attempts to extricate America from Christendom, and if such attempts turn out to be successful, then all that means is that we will have to put her back in again. I am a Christian, and that means no tolerance of idols anywhere — especially not that idol Humpty Dumpty teetering on top of the wall of separation.
All that said, I love this country — not as proposition, but as a people, a nation, a big tribe. I love our language, and how colorful it is. This is a language that can really hand someone the berries. I love our food, especially when it emphasizes the basics, with potatoes and gravy. I love our highway system, and the glorious time you can have on a good road trip with a good car. I love the big sky. I love the fact that there must be 100 million lawns, and that many lawn mowers. I love the American work ethic. I love apple pie. Our gun rights. Country music, blues, jazz, and rock. I love our engineering. I love the idea of perfect football weather in the fall. I love how easily our love of country and suspicion of our government go together. I love the smell of a well-oiled baseball glove. For such a young country, I love that our history has contained some moments of high heroism and greatness. I love the unique personalities of our great cities. I love peanut butter.
And tonight, up on our hill, when I sit out on my deck, I will have a perfect view of all the illegal fireworks being set off to the discomfiture of the minions of the current King George. I love that too.