Hearing the Declaration Anew

What solemnity there is on the Fourth of July usually gathers toward evening as a lead-up to the detonations after dark. It isn't usually a holiday for introspection, not even if the rain is pouring down and the fireworks have fizzled. Most years, the Fourth feels, at its most patriotic, like a day of national boosterism with deep historical roots, a display of the justifiable pride of a proud nation. It's something we enact almost without thinking about it, though no less meaningfully for that.

But the Fourth of July also celebrates a moment of historical discontinuity that came about in order to preserve a continuity of rights and freedoms. There is always a little ambiguity about this radical aspect of our heritage. It's so much easier just to put up the bunting, play the Sousa and celebrate the fact of America than it is to re-enunciate the foundation of our liberties. There is even a little ambiguity about the liberties themselves. They are not merely historical artifacts or pristine philosophical notions. Over the years, they have become exactly what we make of them.