On Patriotism and Pride

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When my dad died just over four years ago, we ended his funeral service with a final blessing. It wasn’t what people expected, but for him it was the most meaningful of all prayers. I cry each time I hear it, and have for many years.

It is not always part of Jewish liturgy, and you may hear it in other houses of worship as well. When Irving Berlin wrote it as an appreciative immigrant to this country, it sat on his shelf for nearly twenty years before he felt the time was right to record it. Legend has it that he convinced Kate Smith to sing it, and the rest is history. I’m speaking about G-d Bless America.

Being first-generation American, I was taught early and often to appreciate the miracle that is this country. To recognize that it is unique in the history of the world, and as Jews, to revel in it, appreciate it, support it, and — much like we as a people believe in lifelong learning — to continue to improve upon it. No place in this world is perfect. Every country has flaws. And yet, there is no place I’d rather be than here in the United States.

I am always patriotic. That has never wavered. But engaged? Engage is something different. Engagement requires that we look honestly at what we see each day — the gaps between our ideals and our reality — and rather than look away, lean in. Have the hard conversations. Show up. And perhaps most importantly, invest.

This Fourth of July marks 250 years of this extraordinary experiment in democracy. And when I look for evidence of America at its best, one place I look is to its philanthropists — the people and institutions who see a need and meet it, not because they have to, or think they can wait for government to step in, but because they believe in something larger than themselves.

I think of Andrew Carnegie, who built more than 2500 public libraries because he believed that knowledge should be accessible to everyone. I think of Julius Rosenwald, who partnered with Booker T. Washington to build schools across the rural South at a time when the government would not — and who asked that his entire fortune be spent within his lifetime, not held in perpetuity. I think of MacKenzie Scott, who has quietly and radically redistributed billions in unrestricted gifts to organizations working on the front lines, trusting them to know their communities better than any distant donor could.

And I think of something that happened right here in Detroit.

When the city filed for bankruptcy in 2013, it faced what seemed like an impossible choice: Sell masterworks from the Detroit Institute of Arts to satisfy creditors, or devastate the pensions of municipal workers who had given their careers to this city. Detroit’s philanthropic community refused the either/or. Foundations, donors, and the DIA itself came together to raise the funds that protected both the art and the people — a Grand Bargain that showed what private generosity can accomplish when it is bold enough to try.

This is what engaged patriotism looks like in practice. Not a flag on a lawn, but a check written, a meeting attended, a cause championed. Detroit has long been a place where people invest in one another because they understand that a city, like a country, is only as strong as the people willing to show up for it. I think of the city as a public – private partnership. 

So as we mark this 250th anniversary of our country, I want to resist the urge to wring my hands at so many things that are disturbing and unnerving, and instead pick them up — to engage, to give, to lean into the discomfort of difficult conversations, and to invest in the people and places doing the work of making this country worthy of its own ideals. Whether that means giving your time, your treasure, your talent, your ties, or your testimony, there is a role for each of us.

I am patriotic always. I want to be unabashedly proud, and I believe we can be through engagement. 

G-d Bless America. May the next 250 years be worthy of her promise.

Shabbat Shalom

Kari