On a Shabbat like this, falling not near but on the Fourth of July, it feels imperative to say something – something forceful, meaningful. Something to stir our spirits and set our hearts beating.
But what to say? What is there to say?
I could wax nostalgic about Independence Days of childhood – parades and band concerts and sparklers, the smell of hot corn on the cob and ash. These are in fact fond memories for me, but the fondness is of course fueled by a combination of naïveté and privilege that allowed allowed me to experience it that way.
I could speak of the Big Baleful Bill and the suffering it will usher in. But what can I see that you aren’t already thinking?
I could speak of lofty national themes. Independence! Independence from tyranny, from autocracy! Is there anything to say about it that wouldn’t simply come off as ironic?
Should I talk about democracy? When I think of democracy I get sad. Or about government? When I think of it I get frightened. Turning to our country’s natural beauty would be a relief but not a true refuge; I find myself wondering what of it will survive government efficiency and billionaire avarice. I can’t even take refuge in a little good old leftie Woody Guthrie anthem – this land is your land, this land is my land – without having to pause and wonder, Really? Is it?
Anywhere you go in this world, holidays like this one – big national holidays, origin-story holidays, pageantry holidays – are meant to build unity and loyalty. This year it is hard to feel either. That said, I did have the pleasure of spending this morning in Bolinas for the festivities there – a good and soothing combination of protest and playfulness. I left home at the crack of dawn to be there in time for the famous annual ritual of the Bolinas vs. Stinson Beach tug-of-war. In this tug-of-war, a maritime-strength rope spans the Bolinas Passage that connects the Bolinas Lagoon to Bolinas Bay and the Pacific. A narrow, swimmable channel, wadeable at low tide. The rugged Bolinians hold the rope on one end and the ragtag Stinsonites on the other, and whichever team is dragged into the lagoon loses. First came the women’s event and the mighty women of Bolinas won. Then came the men’s event, and the good looking and, to my mind, overdressed men of Bolinas also won. The Stinson side then disbanded to drive over and join the Fourth of July Parade and Street Party.
The rivalry between these two tiny towns is really just concocted for the day and it would be hard to mistake it for any actual ill will. But I found myself harboring childish fantasies. What would be like if instead of wars, irresolvable disputes were delegated back to the people for a community tug-of-war, followed by a street party hosted by the winners. A rope across national boundaries, across zones of conflict. “OK, Gaza is yours this year, but we’ll have a rematch next year. Now pass the potato salad.” That thought did occur to me but I couldn’t even laugh at its absurdity; the reality being so terrible and so out of the hands of the people – the people who pay for it with their tax dollars or their lives or their souls.
It is a hard day in a hard year. A hard moment to foster or feel unity or loyalty. In a world in which war and violence are the rule and not the exception, in which injustice is pressing, we might reflect on whether we can be loyal at all, or better yet, what it is we must stay loyal to. Perhaps in 2025, in this tug-of-war between loyalty and morality, resistance is the true shape of patriotism.
So for this Independence Day, I return to a poem from five years ago, from the last Trump presidency, when Donald announced that Jews who vote for democrats are guilty of “gross disloyalty.” This was, and I think still is, my response:
I am a disloyal Jew.
I am not loyal to a political party.
nor will I be loyal to dictators and mad kings.
I am not loyal to walls or cages.
I am not loyal to taunts or tweets.
I am not loyal to hatred, to Jew-baiting,
to the gloating connivings of white supremacy.
I am a disloyal Jew.
I am not loyal to any foreign power,
nor to abuse of power at home.
I am not loyal to a legacy of conquest, erasure and exploitation.
I am not loyal to stories that tell me who I should hate.
I am a loyal Jew.
I am loyal to the inconveniences of kindness.
I am loyal to the dream of justice.
I am loyal to this suffering Earth
and to all life.
I am not loyal to any founding fathers,
but I am loyal to the children who will come
and to the quality of world we leave them.
I am not loyal to what America has become,
but I am loyal to what America could be.
I am loyal to Emma Lazarus,
to huddled masses,
to freedom and welcome,
holiness, hope, and love.