Hello, Weybridge Church and Friends!
This is the poem “A New Colossus,” written by Emma Lazarus in 1883:
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-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
You might now be picturing the Statue of Liberty, because this is the poem that is excerpted on the statue’s plinth. For those who need a refresher, the statue stands with her right arm raised and holding a torch and her left arm cradled around a tablet. The ancient Greeks used votive tablets, like the one she holds, for inscribing prayers or intentions. The statue’s tablet has “July 4, 1776” inscribed.
I confess that I feel conflicted about Fourth of July celebrations. I resent the bitter irony of celebrating a day that only actually represented freedom for white, male landowners – the fraction of society that already held power. Most of the signers of the document we celebrate owned enslaved Black folks forcibly taken from Africa. Unfortunately, for me personally, a prominently displayed American flag gives me pause as a visibly queer person because (yes, even in Vermont) sometimes the flag marks a place where I am not welcome.
This is all true and yet, Lazarus’s poem gives me hope. I hear echoes of stories from the gospels in it: Jesus and his followers feeding people, healing people, showing what belonging can look like. In the poem the voice of the Mother of Exiles trades traditional understandings of fame, glory, and wealth for a freedom that comes through embracing the most vulnerable and being in solidarity with them. Even when I am at my most cynical, my faith shows me the places where God and people work together for true freedom and interdependence.
I wonder what it would look like to rewrite the statue’s tablet of prayers and intentions. I work and I pray to live in a world where these are the kinds of intentions we pursue: Everyone is fed good food. Everyone lives in safe housing. Everyone plays a part in making the community stronger. Everyone tells the truth, and everyone listens. These are not unreachable goals. If we have the eyes to see and ears to hear, they are already happening and groundwork is being laid for more. These are not new ideas but truly ancient ones.
If you feel the same dissonance I do, join me in pushing the boundaries of freedom, glory, and success to be based on how we treat the most vulnerable in others and the most vulnerable within ourselves. This is the good news of the gospel.
Peace,
Caryne
Weybridge Congregational Church 