America, who are we?

This week has been a week of very significant anniversaries for our nation. Today, the fourth of July, we celebrate Independence Day, recalling the events that marked the beginning of an armed struggle that would eventually provide the colonists of this new land the necessary liberty to adopt the Enlightenment ideals that would shape this great nation into a just and free civilization.

Earlier this week, the first through the third of July, we recalled the Battle of Gettysburg, that horrific conflict between fellow citizens in which over 45,500 men were killed, wounded or went missing in a battle that was to determine the outcome of the Civil War and eventually the character and future direction of these United States.

And on Wednesday of this week, the second of July, we celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of the signing of the Civil Rights Act, another moment in our history that was to advance life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for a large number of our nation’s residents. This legislation changed laws that caused repression, suffering and humiliation – only fifty years ago – for many of our citizens changing a horrible lack of justice and liberty in a national shame that is almost incomprehensible to our young people today.

Last fall, Los Angeles Archbishop José H. Gomez published a book entitled Immigration and the Next America. In this small book, Archbishop Gomez expressed his worry that the United States is “…losing something of our national soul.” He writes,

America is a great nation: free and prosperous, brave and generous. Throughout our history and still today, Americans have been willing to sacrifice, even to lay down our lives, for others in need. At home and abroad. In times of war, and in times of peace. Americans can be found wherever people are poor and suffering – lending a hand, saving lives, building communities, bringing people hope.

Yet this great nation finds itself reduced to addressing this major issue in our public life through name calling and discrimination, “profiling” based on race, random identity checks, commando-style raids of workplaces and homes, arbitrary detentions and deportations.

Many happenings this week have played before us events demonstrating the difficult situation faced by so many people:

Here there is an account of Tuesday’s protestors in Murrieta, California, who blocked three busses with children being transported to care facilities. Their signs read, “Return to Sender” and “America has been invaded” while they chanted "Go home!”

Here you can read a more reasoned account of why these young people are risking their lives to immigrate.

Tragically, here is a story from the Boston Herald describing the death of a 15 year-old boy from Guatemala, his decaying body found in the desert of Texas.

And finally, an article by Pablo Alvarado describing how he and his little brother escaped El Salvador because of death threats.

I started this post recalling a series of events in our nation’s, all borne of tragedy and pain, but ultimately shaping our national for the better. The Statue of Liberty, whose original title was Liberty enlightening the World, is a reminder of the nobility of our nation’s soul – the better angels of our nature as Abraham Lincoln so aptly put it - that each of these significant events call forth in us. Opening the borders is not the answer, nor should we abandon the rule of law. But we must search for an answer that is reasonable, just and resonant with our nation’s long-standing commitment to the huddled masses seeking freedom.

Emma Lazarus was invited to compose a sonnet for the dedication of the Statue of Liberty. She titled the poem The New Colossus, hearkening back to one of the seven wonders of the ancient world: the giant statue that presided over the harbor of Rhodes. Now a different type of Colossus presides over New York’s Harbor. The text Lazarus composed says it all.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, 

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, 

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. 

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, 

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

If you want to take some action on this great day in our history go to the Catholic Bishop’s website www.justiceforimmigrants.org for ideas.