Francis Scott Key wrote lines that most of us now repeat, or at least listen to, at nearly every sporting event we attend. For my wife, it’s her favorite part of any football game. OK, she’s not a fan of football or of standing around in cold rainy weather, but you’ll still find her standing straight, hand over heart, eyes glued, ears alert as the band starts to play, indoors or out.
Some may struggle to remember all the lines of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Most will struggle to hit all the notes. I tear up and wonder how many others do, too.
I get emotional now just thinking about that hymn honoring my homeland. It’s not a happy emotion. Though our star-spangled banner still waves overhead, by this dawn’s early light, something essential is missing. I speak of our once-acclaimed compassion and courage.
At this Christmas season, we face grim facts. The red glare of violence, hatred and fear overshadows the bright stars we strain to see. Millions of the world’s citizens fleeing bombs bursting in terror find themselves homeless, looking for safe shelter, not unlike a family-about-to-be many of us will celebrate in the days to come.
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Faiths of all kinds would have their followers extend a hand to those in need. We bemoan the fact that a particular family found no room at the inn late one night. So why do we resist taking in fleeing families today? Fear.
Fear is nothing to be ashamed of, but it must be faced and overcome. The American soldiers who gathered under Fort McHenry’s ramparts knew fear. Few thought they stood much of a chance to survive the night. Less than three weeks earlier, the British fleet had landed a force in Washington and burned the Capitol, the Treasury and President Madison’s house. The poorly equipped American Army and Navy were outmatched.
Finding the courage to overcome that fear took strength and leadership. American Maj. George Armistead, commander of Fort McHenry, somehow persuaded his soldiers to vanquish their fear, and they lived through that perilous fight.
We face a fight of our own. With its complexity, our challenge – terrorism – presents perils that may differ from those posed by the British navy on the night of Sept. 13, 1814, but threaten us nonetheless.
The Canadian example
Others face the same risks we do and have found the strength to resist their fears. I joked with my son-in-law from Toronto a few weeks ago about maybe emigrating to Canada, after reading of Canada’s resolve to accept 25,000 Syrian refugees by March. Seeing pictures and reading stories of Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau welcoming a planeload of those refugees to his homeland made me lament my own homeland’s cowering fear. Canadians can remind us how to conquer fear as they band together to sponsor refugee families, embracing the opportunity to practice their humanity, whatever their faith.
We can do the same. We have overcome fears in the past, though not before making withering mistakes along the way. We turned away Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany, imprisoned innocent Japanese citizens during World War II and conducted witch hunts for communist sympathizers. Our lingering racism owes much of its power to fear.
How do we quell our fears? Maybe we remember those bright stars we saw gleaming before terrorism’s twilight dimmed their brilliance. Maybe we recall our pride in the stars and stripes gallantly streaming after hard-fought victories from 1776 and 1814 to 1918 and 1945.
Our best hope lies in shared convictions and collective action. We cannot do it alone. Pray for the leaders we need in both parties to find the courage and honor to lead us together through the night.
The next time you hear the band start playing that song or a singer starts with “O, say can you see,” see through your misty eyes to the bright stars of our past and remember the final six-words of our National Anthem.
Denis DuBay lives in Cary.