The city on a hill

I am currently reading The Wordy Shipmates by Sarah Vowell, and last night it occurred to me how perfect this book is to be reading at this moment in history. Though the book is admittedly much denser than her predecessors [such as Assassination Vacation, a witty romp through presidential assassination history( and yes, I said "witty" and "romp" and "assassination" in the same breath)] and one of my favorite books of all time] it strikes on such a perfect cord for this blog—the intersection of literature and politics, and hope.

Vowell's shipmates are, of course, the puritans. They leave England in the midst of social and political unrest—Vowell reminds us that these puritans aren’t saints, but they are wordy. They hold literature and learning in high regard, and will produce a large volume of texts while settling the Massachusetts Bay Colony. One of the most famous of these texts is actually a sermon delivered by John Winthrop in 1630, which contains now well-known phrase, “The city on a hill.” Reagan liked to use this phrase often in his speeches, often adding “shining”… as in, we are a shining city on a hill.

It’s lovely imagery. And if I were about to set out on a lengthy, highly risky journey across the ocean in a tiny wooden ship, I too would want to hear that I was heading to a shining city on a hill. But its meaning is so complicated.. those who inhabit a city on a hill are literally looking down on the world. They are leading by example. They are closer to God. The phrase alone creates a hierarchy. We are on the hill, everybody else is not. Obama, I believe, has never uttered this phrase. But even he alludes to it.

Another part of this phrase is the idea of hope. The idea that even when our country is so clearly in the ditches, most of us still have this place in our hearts where the idea of “America” is something bigger. Even during the last eight years, as we watched scandal after scandal drag this country’s name through the mud… even as we continued to fight a war no one wanted… even as we threw out the Geneva convention… even as the economy sank through the floor… we continued to have hope somewhere in our hearts that this would pass. We continued to somehow be grateful for being in this mythical “America.” And, it is most likely because of this idea that somehow we should be a city on a hill, that the atrocities of the last 8 years have been even more painful. How dare they shame us? How dare they destroy the ideals and hope that have been so intrinsic in the nation since they day our forefathers crossed the ocean to start this country. And how painful still that the one’s committing the crimes were our own elected officials. The ones many (though not I) voted for, with hope, four and eight years ago.

And believe me, I am in no way glorifying the settlers or what they did. The plagues they brought upon the native inhabitants, the capitol punishment imposed on heretics and non-believers, the legacy of an intermingled church and state, the legacy of puritan ideals that we have tried so hard to escape.

But they did have one legacy that we can be proud of. Hope. To them, it was in large part faith in their God. But also just hope.

And so as I listened to President Obama’s inauguration speech on Tuesday, I thought again about this idea of America as the shining city on a hill. He, too, referred to it in a way:

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less.

It has not been the path for the faint-hearted, for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame.

Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things—some celebrated, but more often men and women obscure in their labor—who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life. For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West, endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

We can only infer that traveling “up the long, rugged path” lead us to the shining city. But President Obama’s message has always been about hope. About restoring this ideal to America. He continues:

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions—that time has surely passed.

Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

Somehow, to me, his speech felt like the one Winthrop gave to the Puritans before their journey. Warning of perils ahead, naysayers behind, but instilling hope that better things were possible, that with hard work, perseverance, and hope, they could reach that city on a hill.

And so here we are again, setting off in stormy seas, hoping to reach a better America.