Tarnished

It was part of an overall pattern of admiration for and affiliation with the values and accomplishments of our country. Back in second grade, one valiantly patriotic teacher had us recite the Pledge of Allegiance every day. For a fourth-grade project, we each created a brochure inviting tourists to a chosen state, extolling the state flower, nickname, and natural resources. During our elementary school careers, we reenacted the midnight ride of Paul Revere, warbled the high notes of the Star Spangled Banner, and repeated the stirring phrases of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address until we knew them by heart.

Maybe it was because we were young and innocent, but on that trip to Washington we saw real grandeur in the classic white marble buildings. America made us proud. We were inspired by the founders who’d acknowledged the flaws of their era and sacrificed to build something better. We felt fortunate to live in a country that opened doors and opportunities to so many, with a fundamental tolerance and decency. Most of all, we were grateful to live under a government that allowed us to thrive as frum Jews.

OFcourse, as I got older, I realized that too many of those noble presidents whose portraits lined our textbooks had ugly backstories our teachers didn’t share. Some harbored tendencies to violence, alcohol, or immorality. Less consequential but still disappointing, some of that elegant prose that so inspired us was actually produced by paid speechwriters. Much worse: The doors that swung open to welcome Holocaust survivors had been held tightly shut during the years of slaughter. The gleaming picture wasn’t quite as flawless as originally painted.

But there was still much to take pride in. Even decades after making my home in Eretz Yisrael, I never made an effort to lose my American accent. It’s no shame to be an American. America isn’t only the country of Coca-Cola and dollar bills; it’s a country that offered a vision of equality and self-determination to the world.