Slippery When Wet
David R. Weiss – December 30, 2023

The tears caught me off guard on Monday night (December 18). Margaret and I were in the middle of our weekly phone conversation with my dad when suddenly my voice broke. Next thing I knew, my words collapsed into a soggy mess as I tried to speak through the tears—and my surprise at the unexpected rush of emotion.

Earlier that day we’d driven about 20 miles up to the Heritage Center of Brooklyn Center in the northeast Metro for our son-in-law Will’s naturalization ceremony. Will is from Nicaragua. He met our daughter, Meredith, a decade ago when she spent two-plus years in Nicaragua working for a Minnesota-based nonprofit that supported grassroots projects there. Eventually they married and had a child. When Meredith’s work there ended in 2015, they came back to Minnesota together, and Will got a green card, allowing him to work in the states.

Will is a “love-immigrant” more than an economic one. Although he works hard, he did not come here seeking a better life for himself. He came to build a life together with Meredith and their (now) two children. He’s found English a challenging language to learn, so while his basic proficiency has steadily grown, until recently he hasn’t felt ready to attempt the U.S. citizenship exam. In fact, he spent months trying to build his confidence, weeks studying, and more than a handful of sleepless nights awaiting test day.

Test day came on November 29, and that morning Margaret and I drove over to the USCIS (U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services) office in downtown Minneapolis simply to be with Will and Meredith while he waited to be called back for the exam. But when we arrived—a few minutes before his scheduled appointment—he’d already been called back early and given the exam. In fact, as soon as we cleared security and approached them in the waiting area, the smile beneath Will’s glistening cheeks announced his success on the exam even before we were close enough to exchange warm hugs. Now, Will is stoic by almost every measure. I found myself deeply moved by his emotions.

Afterwards the four of us went across the street for coffee. I’m not sure which was greater, Will’s sheer relief or his unbound joy. Both were everywhere: in his nonstop smile, his multiple headshakes, his hugs, his repeated exclamations of “Wow,” and his tears. So, I knew his Naturalization Ceremony (when he’d formally be sworn in as a U.S. citizen) would be another momentous occasion—this one, thankfully, without any anxiety. And momentous it was. (Although my tears during the evening phone call to my dad came from a different place, as I’ll explain.)

That Monday morning, at the Heritage Center, while Will sat in the front section of a large ballroom, we joined Meredith and their two children, John (10) and Benjamin (7½), in an area reserved for family and friends of new citizens. The boys understood this was a huge occasion for their dad, but for them it mostly sparked mild curiosity and polite indifference. Kids.

For the rest of us—that is, Meredith, Margaret, me and the several hundred other family and friends of those seated up front—it was a civics lesson of the highest order. Before the formal ceremony began, we listened as the about-to-be-citizens received instructions on how to complete their applications for new Social Security cards after the ceremony, as well as encouragement to fill out their voter registration form right there at the Heritage Center, and where to get information about applying for a passport. Then, as a sort of warm-up to the ceremony, we watched a video montage of immigrant faces from across the years and around the globe and featuring the famous line from Emma Lazarus’ poem for the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free …” From my great-great grandparents, immigrants from Germany in the 1800’s, right up to Will in 2023, the fabric of our country has been woven from the threads of immigrant lives.

On this particular day 400 immigrants from 72 different countries added their threads to our weaving. After standing and singing the national anthem—itself a very moving experience in this setting—the ceremony began. A representative from USCIS came forward and, after declaring that these persons had met the requirements for citizenship, he made a formal motion to receive them as citizens. Once the motion was accepted, a judge administered the citizenship oath. Really, this 140-word oath is an act of alchemy. These persons repeated the oath phrase by phrase in unison while standing, and with their hands held up in pledge: a chorus of 400 voices who began speaking as individuals from around the globe and became—with their final words—something more: citizens of the United States of America.

After the oath the judge offered some extended words of reflection on the challenge of America. Describing our country as a work in progress, he invited these new citizens to join the rest of us in pursuing together the aspiration of America. He admitted that citizenship comes easily (instantly) to many in America, while for others (and certainly for some of the 400 seated before him), it comes as the culmination of sometimes perilous journeys, confusing processes, and years of effort. But now, he explained, after the culmination, the real work begins.

He told them, with obvious passion in his voice, that today they have taken their place within those sacred “fifteen words” that form the Preamble to the Constitution: “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union …” And now, as part of “We the People,” it falls to them to help shape a society where the ballot is more trusted than the bullet; where laws govern, rather than where dictators rule; where taxes serve the greater good and promote the common welfare; where differing views can be heard with respect; and where the inclusion of others is known as the unfolding vocation—and the undoubted strength—of the nation.

Altogether stronger words than I expected to hear, I confess. Far from a mere formality, the ceremony and the judge’s commission, really evoked the America that could be. A nation worthy of our pledged allegiance not because it offers liberty and justice for all, but so that it might. Unfinished work.

Now, for my unexpected tears. As I recounted the morning’s ceremony to my dad, I found myself weeping less for the beauty of the moment—though it was undeniably beautiful—than for my grief at the political calamity playing out in our nation today. Or perhaps it was the stark counterpoint between the beauty of the ceremony and the judge’s message … and the horror of a former president whose venomous words not only undercut the ideals of our nation but take aim at the very practice of our democracy.

And yet he continues to be far and away the leading GOP candidate for the presidency. Do you listen to what the man says?! He regularly—habitually!—dehumanizes anyone he deems “other.” Immigrants are “poisoning our blood”; leftists (like me!) are “vermin”—and both phrases are drawn directly from Nazi Germany, where they were employed (successfully!) to normalize murderous violence against those deemed undesirable by Hitler and the Nazis. Within the Republican Party almost no one dares to challenge Trump’s hate-mongering, let alone name it as fascist. And yet it is.

In truth, there have always been multiple Americas: a country contested among its leaders and by its citizens from the start. One America has soaring rhetoric of equality and liberty and justice—though beneath these lofty phrases, the attitudes and structures of power worked almost effortlessly to reserve the ideals foremost for those who are wealthy or at least white. Such was the America of our founding fathers. Another America includes those persons restless to extend the ideals of the nation to all its citizens—indeed, to hold these values as due toward all persons regardless of their citizenship. This America recognizes that if equality, liberty, and justice are true civic goods, then denying them even to those who are “other,” lessens their goodness also for us. This is the aspirational America that has never yet been. But the pursuit of this America ennobles those of us who work for it, even as its reality is yet to come.

But there is another America, too. In this America, every ideal is compromised, discarded, or twisted to serve the raw appetite for power of an authoritarian nationalism. In this America civil rights (and human rights) are dispensable. Elections are managed, from limited voting rights to gerrymandered districts to blatantly partisan election oversight—to ensure that the power of a minority can rule (which is no longer governance). In this America, political dissent will be neutralized. In this America, Earth will be exploited as ruthlessly as is technologically possible, because anything less than unfettered growth is failure. This is Trump’s America. As it is the America of those who brought him into power, and those who have chosen to ride his demonic charisma for their own political advantage.

This is, largely, the America of the present Republican party, coalescing around the destructive energy unleashed by Trump. Differing only in the transparency of its rhetoric, this vision of America is driven by the raw grasp for brute power in a country where the writing on the wall is clear. The majority in this divided nation long for some version of that aspirational America praised by the judge in the citizenship ceremony. Indeed, the clear majority in this multi-hued nation, agree that America is best when it is diverse and tolerant, with expansive rights and a core commitment to justice. That’s the writing on the wall.

Which is why the GOP, with Trump’s venomous rhetoric leading the way, has only one path to gain and hold power: fan the public’s fear, dehumanize their opponents, reduce their rights to vote, break the very processes for governing, and create conditions that will allow a minority to rule with authoritarian power over a majority of their fellow citizens, whose humanity will be rendered second class … or worse. Let’s be very clear: that’s what it would mean to “Make America Great Again.” It would mean to make America the worst it has ever been. It would be to UNMAKE the promise of America and to forfeit the great experiment of democracy.

And this MAGA America, far from being some exaggerated nightmare, is a real political possibility. Not least because the Democratic Party has failed to lead with policies that deliver expansive justice or speak in plain language that addresses the real vulnerabilities of citizens. And not least because Joe Biden is unwilling to step aside and let someone with a clearer, more vibrant sense of that aspirational America carry his party’s standard into the next election. But mostly it is because Trump and the Republican Party are actively persuading one set of citizens to so distrust, fear, and loathe their fellow citizens that they would be willing to destroy democracy itself at the Party’s bidding.

This is what drove my tears. That on the very day we celebrated Will adding the thread of his life to our nation, so many in this nation are prepared to embrace (with passion!) a xenophobic nationalist authoritarian fascist future. Alas.

And I suppose this in particular drove my tears: that I know there are those among my own friends and family who will be poised to vote democracy away in 2024. Who will be ready to do whatever they feel is needed to thwart that aspirational America from ever becoming. Who will cheerfully (with happy rage) view people like Will as “poisoning our blood,” people like me as “vermin,” and so many others I love—from LGBTQ persons to BIPOC persons—as less than human. This is pain that is most personal: that among those I love, are those who would betray others I love for the fear and contempt sown by Trump and others on the right. Alas, alas.

My joy at Will’s citizenship is made bittersweet by all this. Democracy is slippery when wet. And from the tears running down my cheeks, it’s apparent that democracy is most slippery right now. Slipping away? Only time will tell. But that it is slippery is beyond debate. It glistens on my cheeks.

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David Weiss is a theologian, writer, poet and hymnist, “writing into the whirlwind” of contemporary challenges, joys, and sorrows around climate crisis, sexuality, justice, peace, and family. Reach him at drw59mn@gmail.com. Read more at www.davidrweiss.com where he blogs under the theme, “Full Frontal Faith: Erring on the Edge of Honest.” Support him in Writing into the Whirlwind at www.patreon.com/fullfrontalfaith.