The Price of Freedom…is in the Sacrifice
In 1886, just one year after all the sections of it had arrived from France, the Statue of Liberty took her place on the eastern shore of America—the Lady in the Harbor—a tribute to democracy and freedom, and a beacon of hope for refugees around the world. What a glorious day in the annals of world history!
Architecturally, she has, perhaps, many flaws. But as a symbol of humanity’s dreams, and hopes, and promises she has no peer. She is the silent spokesperson whose projections of dedication and intensity of purpose never waiver. At her base are the inspirational words that fuel the lamp hoisted high above her head to illuminate the pathway in fulfillment of her promise:
“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.” --Emma Lazarus
Every school child knows the story; every patriot knows the honor; every immigrant knows the price.
Along our southern border stands another symbol. It is a wall, not one intended to keep anyone in, but one that is intended to keep many out. It is a barrier of contradictions. There may be a few good intentions behind it, but it denies hope; it fuels nightmares while it dashes dreams; it is a shortcut to political promises while it quashes promises from our souls. It welcomes nobody. It is a monument to those who do not understand history, while it thwarts the vision of those with eyes that cannot see. It confronts inspiration while it padlocks the golden door. It offers only false hopes with not one ounce of sacrifice. It is the wretched refuge of lost souls.
Some say “Good fences make good neighbors.” To which Robert Frost once asked: “Before I built a wall, I’d ask to know what I was walling in or walling out, and to whom I was like to give offence?” I am on the side of the poet, and the patriot, and the immigrant, and the visionary; the tired, the poor, the huddled masses, the wretched refuse, the tempest tost, the dreamer; and all those who understand that the price of freedom is not measured in dollars, or false promises, or stuffed ballots.
In another time and place, two different United States Presidents stood on the edge of history and faced another imposing wall. One proclaimed proudly to the world that he was on the right side of history when he said: “Ich bin ein Berliner!” And the other with a little less flair said: “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” I am on that same side of history where everyone understands what it means to be faithful to your heritage, that being true to yourself comes from your soul, and no one asks to know the price of freedom. They know the price of freedom…is in the sacrifice.
And the latest twist "Let us flood the sanctuary cities!" To loud cheers from the righteous riotous right in the very friendly screened audience.
Ron
Love ya!
Jane