— Edith Cavell, English nurse
                                                                    Last words before execution by Germans
                                                                    for helping allies escape, October 12, 1915

Richard Nixon was elected President in the year I turned 21. It was the first national election in which I could vote. I supported Hubert Humphrey, and had even shaken his hand at a campaign rally in Tacoma.

My family was staunchly Democratic, with a capital D. My grandfather was a union man and used to say that if a young man of 20 wasn’t a socialist there was something wrong with his heart, and if he hadn’t become a Democrat by the time he was 30, there was something wrong with his mind. He was roughly quoting someone else, perhaps Mark Twain or Will Rogers, but I’ve forgotten the source.

I was outraged by the election results and I had threatened to move to Canada. I had dropped out of ROTC over indignation with the braggadocio of an Air Force captain who expressed glee at films showing napalm bombs landing on grass huts. I didn’t respect a teacher who used racial slurs to stir up enthusiasm for killing innocent civilians. I was eminently draftable, and I expected Nixon to escalate the war in Vietnam.

But on inauguration day my father stated his patriotism clearly in response to my ranting disappointment: "The people have elected him and he’s our President now. We have to support him." It was clear that the "we" included me specifically. It was unequivocal. Having fought in World War II to defend liberty and democracy, country came before politics, and he was quick to support the winning candidate. He was a democrat with a small ‘d’ long before he was one with a capital ‘D’. Eventually Dad’s ethics proved stronger then his patriotism, as he became disillusioned and bitter at Nixon’s betrayal of the public trust.

What does it mean to be a patriot? How far does loyalty to country extend? How do you rank patriotism alongside other values that conflict with it? Does love of country come before all else? Or are there other values that are more important? This morning we’ll examine patriotism through the lens of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address, which Frederick Douglass called "a sacred effort." You’ll hear definitions of patriotism from elders, and we hope you’ll be challenged and provoked to think more deeply about the importance of country on this eve of the 225^th anniversary of signing of the Declaration of Independence.

Come, let us worship together!

I grew up in a time when Patriotism was in question. Three commonly asked questions of patriotism were: What is it? Can I catch it? Is it terminal? In 1971 I was invited to a two-year seminar on Patriotism, during that time I learned that Patriotism is both a feeling and a belief, it is somewhat contagious, and depending on the circumstances it can be fatal. Today patriotism is viewed as a positive attribute, but in the sixties it was viewed as a disease. A handful of people lost their lives in Desert Storm and they were viewed as heroes. Over 52 thousand people lost their lives in Vietnam and they passed into virtual obscurity. It may not be fair, but that's just the way it was.

You can read the many different articles written about Patriotism or you can ask those who have been there. I choose to ask. I talked three of my friends into giving me their definition of Patriotism and I would like to pass their answers along to you.

Wayne is seventy-four years old. In 1944, at the age of seventeen he joined the army infantry. Wayne had dreamed of becoming a pilot, but in 1944 there was no Air Force, only the struggling Army Air Corps existed back then. After basic training he transferred into the Air Corps. For the next three years he trained to be a pilot. Wayne excelled in his training and upon completion he was drafted by a secret government organization. For ten years he enjoyed his new position. I still don't know exactly what that position was, but I have one of his old filing cabinets which has a seven-digit serial number stamped alongside an emblem saying NEVER DESTROY.

When I asked him his definition of Patriotism, he said it was loyalty to God and Country. I was very surprised at his answer. During the ten years I had know him that was the first time he had ever said that three letter word to me. I was surprised to find out that he believed in GOD.

John is seventy years old. In 1955 John completed college and became a schoolteacher. Because of being a student he had been able to avoid the draft, but upon completion of college he was invited to join the Army. For a year he lived the life of a foot soldier. At that time the Army hired civilians as teachers and one day somebody realized that for only 70 dollars a month, that was the pay rate back in those days, they could make John replace someone they were paying 4000 dollars a year. He spent the next year as an education procurement specialist and then got out of the army. He went back to teaching but didn't find it as rewarding as it had once been. Two years later he signed on with the Army as an education procurement advisor. He spent the next twenty years teaching other people how to learn.

When I asked him his definition of Patriotism, he said it was loyalty to your country and fellow man, and wife and children and friends!

Dennis is seventy-three years old. In 1940, at age 12 he joined the National Guard. (When I questioned this he told me that 12 was the minimum age to join the national guards back in 1940.) In 1943 he joined the merchant marines where he remained until 1947, when he joined the Army. During the Korean war he suffered several injuries, one of them being the loss of an eye, which resulted in him being discharged from the Army. Upon being discharged he signed back on to the corps as a pressman. He spent two years in that position and then signed on with the Army Intelligence Corps to help stop the suspected influx of drugs into our country. He remained with that organization until his retirement in 1970.

Dennis has never worked for anybody but the U S Government so when I asked him for his definition of Patriotism, his answer came as no surprise. His definition of Patriotism was to do whatever the government was to ask, whenever they were to ask it.

I am friends with all three of these men and I greatly respect their opinions. Even though I don't find our government to be infallible, I am proud to be an American.

As Abe Lincoln began his second term of office on March 4, 1865, it was clear that the war was nearly over. The South surrendered in early April and Lincoln was assassinated a few days later, on April 14.

His Second Inaugural Address was masterful both in what it said and in what it didn’t say. In a mere 706 words, he set the tone for reconciliation. The speech is regarded by some as more significant than his Gettysburg Address. It has been viewed as a religious document of particular significance in our nation’s history. The speech was delivered in the Senate chambers just after he was sworn in. He said,

Fellow Countrymen:

At this second appearing to take the oath of the presidential office, there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then a statement, somewhat in detail, of a course to be pursued, seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years, during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention, and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself; and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured.

On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil-war. All dreaded it -- all sought to avert it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war -- seeking to dissolve the Union, and divide effects, by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive; and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. And the war came.

One eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the Southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was, somehow, the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union, even by war; while the Government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected for the war, the magnitude, or the duration, which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offenses! for it must needs be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh!" If we shall suppose that American Slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South, this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a Living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope -- fervently do we pray -- that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue, until all the wealth piled by the bond-man's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord, are true and righteous altogether."

With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan -- to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.

Rain pelted Washington on inauguration day, March 4, 1865. The newly elected vice-president, Andrew Johnson was sworn in first. He appeared inebriated. After he took the oath of office, he gave a slurred and rambling speech. He waved a Bible in the air and kissed it passionately. The man who later led the effort to impeach him said publicly that the Vice President "slobbered the Holy Book with a drunken kiss."

After this performance, Abraham Lincoln took the oath of office and began a second term as President. He had taken great pains to avoid the unseemly celebration in Washington. His carriage moved smartly though the muddy streets from the White House to the Capitol, at what Walt Whitman called "on sharp trot" and ahead of the tacky parade.

Just before he was sworn in, Lincoln turned to the marshal for the post-inauguration parade and asked him to make sure Johnson didn’t speak when they stepped outside.

As Johnson and Lincoln came out onto the east portico of the Capitol, Lincoln recognized Frederick Douglass in the crowd and pointed him out to Johnson, who was a former slave owner. Douglass, a celebrity and an escaped slave, caught Johnson’s eye and recognized a bitter hatred. Douglass later wrote:

We’re still trying to negotiate who is included in that troublesome phrase, "all men are created equal" and whether it includes people of color, women, and the poor. Jefferson likely didn’t pause to consider a precise definition as he wrote the words, but it’s likely he had in mind the privileged and power-holding class: white males who owned land. Indeed, for purposes of allocating representation in Congress, the Constitution provided that free persons be counted as whole numbers while Indians weren’t counted at all and all other persons each only counted at three fifths of a whole.

When Jesus was asked who is our neighbor, he replied with the story of the Good Samaritan to illustrate that even someone from a reviled tribe could show mercy to another. It’s the story about a traveler who was beaten by robbers and left at the side of the road. As he lay in the sun, several other travelers passed by but ignored his calls for help, even going out of their way to avoid him. But a man from Samaria, whose people were considered sub-human, stopped to help and went out of his way to take the man to an inn, paid for his lodging there, and returned a few days later to check on him. The story of course works in two ways: it serves as a call to extend mercy and charity even to those who are different from us and it reminds us that even those whom we revile can be a source of help. But mostly it was meant to say that all people are our neighbors.

Jesus’ radical examples call on those who hold the power and privilege of class to give it up and to enter into respectful relationship with all persons, including women, the poor, prostitutes, and lepers. He admonished his followers to love even their enemies.

Our religious heritage calls us to the most encompassing definition of "all men" — one that is all-inclusive — for we affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person, man or woman or child, and we believe that each individual is the ultimate authority in matters of faith. Universal salvation isn’t limited, but is for every person. It is truly universal.

We have not yet learned to live by our espoused values. It is hard work to act from a place of deep respect for the inherent worth and dignity of every person! If it were easy, we wouldn’t have needed to make it our first principle.

That look Johnson gave Douglass telegraphed what was in his heart. How often does your own deep racism, heterosexism, classism, ageism, or ableism make itself known through your initial reaction when you encounter someone who is not like you? Almost every one of us still has work to do on himself or herself as we seek to heal the differences that divide us and to really live out that first principle.

It was in the context of a deeply divided nation that Lincoln got up to take the oath of office after Johnson had stumbled through his speech and slobbered on the Bible. His Second Inaugural Address was brief, far shorter than we’ve come to expect from recent Presidents, and yet it had an eloquence that said far more as he sought to unite the divided nation.

As to the war, he said its progress was unpredictable. It had a life of its own, and had gone beyond his power to control. The prayers of either side for victory had gone unanswered: the terrible losses impacted the whole divided nation, and it was time now to lay the groundwork for the staggering problems of reconciliation that lie ahead. He wanted to avoid entrenchment of the sides in principle or in declarations of victory, either of which would block restoration of a single Union.

Lincoln avoided playing to a tribal patriotism, and in its place attempted to create a sense of belonging and support for a more inclusive notion of country that would bind up both the North and the South.

Lincoln’s closing paragraph was a benediction that could still serve as a call to action today:

How different that is from the hatred Frederick Douglass saw in Andrew Johnson’s heart. A wise caution may be necessary to protect ourselves from those who intend to do us harm. But an unreasoned fear of the stranger builds an impenetrable wall around our hearts. That wall blocks us from entering into relationship and prevents us from finishing the work we are each called to do — the work of bringing more love to the world.

We’re still deeply divided. Those among us who hold power and privilege have a firm grasp on it and are not going to give it up easily. The disparity between the very wealthy and the poor is growing ever more profound. Racism is alive in our communities and even in our churches. The fear of those not like us is still deeply held.

The election last fall was decided by a margin much thinner than the uncertainties in counting ballots and we’ll never know who actually had the most votes. The differences between the candidates were significant, but the majority of voters were relatively indifferent, claiming to find little difference between them and clearly not expecting either to have the power to effect much change.

Such apathy, it seems to me, is rooted in our rugged individualism. Several authors have noted the loss of civil engagement in recent years. In an essay called "Bowling Alone," Robert Putnam notes that the number of Americans who bowl regularly has risen in recent years while the number of bowling leagues and teams has declined sharply. He sees this as a manifestation of broad-scale rejection of community in favor of fierce independence.

A few years ago I lived for about six weeks in a luxury condominium complex that was designed in such a way that I almost never saw my neighbors. We had virtually no interaction with each other, and if I did notice someone it was likely they would avoid any eye contact that might invite conversation. How different that is from our home in Carlisle, where we can sit on the front porch swing and greet passersby or chat over the back fence with neighbors on all sides.

With our mobility and fast-paced changes in careers, many of us have been dislocated from our hometowns and families. While our need is acute for communities of support to provide places to hear and hold our joys and sorrows and to call us to accountability, the pace of our lives makes it hard for us to find and sustain such relationships.

So it is somewhat of a small miracle that this congregation exists as a place that offers opportunities to create intimacy and community in small groups. Here is the opportunity to bind the wounds, support widows and orphans, and to cherish a just and lasting peace.

But it would be a mistake to think that it is sufficient to create an isolated enclave of support here. We have a message that saves lives and has the power to transform the world. As long as there are people in our region who long for that message, we have an obligation to help them find us, to open our doors wide in welcome, and to offer an embracing hospitality.

And as long as there is injustice in the world, our espoused principles call us to work to eradicate it, to turn part of our attention outward, and to work for justice.

Lincoln calls us to that. His refusal to encourage a tribalism that would continue to pit the North against the South and insistence on carrying a larger and more inclusive vision of reconciliation and unity call us to reach out beyond our doors.

A week ago delegates to the Unitarian Universalist Association’s General Assembly elected Bill Sinkford to be our president for the next four years, with 70% of the votes. In the past UUA elections have been almost as close as last fall’s Presidential election.

Bill is the first African American to head a predominantly white denomination in the US. Bill and Judy and I were all students at Starr King School for the Ministry at the same time. We know him to be a good man, with integrity and a quiet presence that is deeply engaged.

When you talk with Bill, you know you’ve been heard. He values relationship most highly. Immediately after being elected he began to reach out to embrace those who supported the other candidate. One of his first acts was to ask his supporters to remove their campaign buttons and the tee shirts that were emblazoned with his name.

Some of the supporters of the other candidate began spreading nasty rumors several weeks ago. They played to racial stereotypes and to mostly unspoken racial fears that are taboo, particularly among those who claim to be religiously liberal. I don’t believe their candidate supported the rumors, but they quickly spread through the Internet’s grape vine.

Perhaps the most interesting of the false rumors was that Bill is a direct descendant of the liaison between Thomas Jefferson and his slave, Sally Hemmings. As far as Bill knows, there is no genealogical link between him and Jefferson. The rumor was not true.

The content of the rumor puzzled me. If it were true, what difference would it possibly make to his abilities to lead our denomination? The fact that the rumors appeared at all points toward the racism that is still too close to home. To the need for us to bind up old wounds and to extend compassion to all who have borne the battle.

Andrew Johnson sat behind Lincoln as he delivered his inaugural address. The assassination of Lincoln just a few weeks later thrust Johnson into the Presidency. There was perhaps no one who more needed to have heard the message. But he hadn’t apparently taken it in at all.

As President, Johnson opposed the proposition that suffrage be extended to blacks in the District of Columbia. Frederick Douglass visited Johnson in the White House as part of a delegation to protest Johnson’s opposition to black enfranchisement. After the delegation left, Johnson’s secretary told a reporter that the President had said, "Those damned sons of bitches thought they had me in a trap. I know that damned Douglass; … he would sooner cut a white man’s throat than not." (I left out his offensive use of a familiar racial epithet.)

Johnson was of course not the last of our leaders who has expressed privately a shocking racial bias.

As you celebrate the birth of our nation this week, think about that. The founding vision of our nation is one of equality and the rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness that belong unalienably to every person. Too often our leaders have let fear and hatred fuel their power and privilege at the cost of denying those rights to some of us.

A true patriotism that embodied love of this great country would embrace the founding principles and seek to extend those unalienable rights to every person — within and beyond our borders.

Our challenge is to decide whether we will let hate and fear rule and withdraw into our tribal enclave, or embrace the stranger and reach out with love and compassion to bind up the wounds and become justice seekers. What sort of patriots will we be?