Like most people, I ended up an American citizen by default. I’ve had moments of soaring patriotism, created mostly by emotional tableaus of distant wars and family ancestry, but for the most part I’m a lousy patriot. Saturated by opportunity and spoiled by freedom, I approach the Fourth of July as a selfish pragmatist: Can I have three hot dogs and still look good in my swimsuit?  Do I have enough blueberries to make a tri-colored fruit salad? 

For people who are intensely nationalistic, my indifference to this country’s freedoms must be maddening. If I were to compare patriotic devotion to, let’s say, Christianity, I would be the frustrating pew-sitter who takes advantage of VBS and church potlucks but cares little about either theology or personal sacrifice. I would be part of the 80% of church attenders who watch the 20% do all the heavy lifting. The comparison between politics and religion isn’t really a stretch. What two topics are most apt to raise blood pressure among dinner guests or create lively classroom debates? For some people, being an American is their greatest asset, their identifying marker, their point of highest allegiance. So when I only see Independence Day as reason to host a family BBQ instead of blood shed for freedom, my patriotic brothers and sisters get a little crazy. 

I grew up in a church that celebrated the Fourth of July every year with a big patriotic musical. That was the one Sunday of the year when everyone was encouraged to "dress casual," the service included a lot of patriotic songs, and the preaching focused on how America needs to get back to her Christian roots. Songs were sung about how we are one nation under God. Military veterens dressed in their uniforms. There was a color guard that marched in with the American flag and led us through the Pledge of Allegiance. Come to think of it, the entire sanctuary was decked out in American flags, and everyone dressed in red, white and blue. Following the worship service, there was always a church picnic on the grounds.