The squash of faith and the potatoes of freedom

Last Sunday Cardinal George, passing over goats and sheep alike, preached on being thankful for our faith and for our freedom. Introducing a theme I find neither particularly Christian nor especially American, he implied that complacency ought to follow gratitude: "And people call attention to the bad things done by corrupt men and women in government and in the Church, but you need to ask yourself, where would you rather be? The Church, like the government, is composed of fragile and sinful humans like you and me." And moved on from there. I was depressed. But I rallied some when the Cardinal compelled us to remember that material need and low social status inhibit a person's utilization of freedom, and that until we take care of the needy we can't authentically give thanks for a nation universally free. (This is again my paraphrase, and I may be making the point a little more strongly than Cardinal George.) It's a message we need, an example of Christian faith problematizing American freedom, a message that's countercultural rather than complacently patriotic.

Too often patriotism and faith get muddied together like traces of mashed potato and squash. (I hate that.) At my cousins' Thanksgiving Mass today they're probably singing the idolatrous patriotic medley they seem to recess to on every national holiday. But if Cardinal George--though he didn't put it this way--can draw on his faith to question his country, and can hold gratitude and critique in the same head, perhaps calling the Church to account in light of some American values ought not be such a sin. The Church does not commit to equality and to freedom of dialogue in the same way the US does, and God knows the American execution of these ideals is flawed as it is. Yes, the squash of faith and the potatoes of freedom need to be distinguishable, but it's a richly laden plate that can boast both.

This is a time in our country when for a few months, selflessness stops being countercultural, and every bank, store and dentist's office bloom with full donation bins. Lesson: there's no culture so gross that it can't redeem itself, whether it's our American culture of greed or the Catholic hierarchy of silence. Redemption will come when we, like controversial raisins in the stuffing, carry challenging ideas from one setting into another. (Tired of the metaphor yet? Tough!)

Early free speech advocate.

This Thanksgiving, may you find ample room for gratitude free from complacency. Give thanks for our freedom which, though flawed in execution, encourages us to speak for ourselves. If it's your faith that guides your speaking, give thanks for that gift, and for the fact that nothing on Earth can completely silence the voice of the Spirit. And whether you're blessed in company this Thanksgiving or finding richness in solitude, may you feast richly on the Turkey of Love--the only thing worthy of casting faith and freedom in the roles of sides.