God Bless America

 

She was big, what kinder folks might call healthy-looking, and she was loud. When a song was allowed to ride on her voice, it stayed ridden, and no one else would ever be able to sing it again; it wouldn’t be the same. Kate Smith’s signature song, God Bless America, is a standard of American patriotic anthems; perhaps more moving even than The Star Spangled Banner, definitely closer to most folks’ vocal range. If it’s possible to be in love with a song, then God Bless America and I have been romancing for about thirty years now. It’s a trite song really, “From the mountains, to the prairies, to the oceans white with foam”, but it’s the next part that really gets me: “God Bless America! My home sweet home.” It’s not the words; it’s the way she sings them that sits me upright. When Kate Smith trumpets “God Bless America...” I believe even God listens. Her voice appears a paradox on that one line. As more commonly happens in Negro spirituals, the words leap forth with power, but the aftertaste is all humility. Kate Smith is not telling God to bless America; she’s asking him with her whole heart. And that is why the song works for me, it’s not just an anthem, it’s a prayer and a petition. Someone played a recording of God Bless America at the recent Republican convention while the image of an American flag waved on the jumbotron. The camera cut to the faces of a few delegates. They were in tears, and so was I. So far I’ve had the opportunity to see both Generals Powell and  Schwarzkopf speak at the convention. They didn’t do it in song, but they each ended their speech with those three words: “God Bless America”. Sadly in both cases, the words emerged as if an afterthought, a catch phrase, a feeble attempt at a patriotic “Amen”. There was power in their voices all right, but there was no humility. Both generals gave me the impression that “God Bless America” was a direct order.  I wonder if that got God’s attention? I mean, creating the earth and universe and all, making man out of clay, butterfly wings, chocolate, doing all that and then having someone ordering you around? That’s gotta hurt. Frankly, if a man can’t humble himself before God, what chance is there that he’s going to serve us? Every time I hear a politician or leader say those three words, I listen close. The way in which he speaks them tells me a lot about the kind of man he is. It takes a humble man to serve, and it takes a servant to make a good politician. Even the politicians believe that, at least while they’re campaigning. So it’s good to listen for humility, and it’s easy to compare the candidates’ humility with those three words. I’ll bet your dog taught you that it’s not the words that matter, it’s the manner in which they’re spoken. There are tones which stowaway on the voice as it comes up out of the body and past the soul. They betray the health of a person’s spirit and reveal more than actual words could ever share. Hey, I want God to bless America too, and that’s why I’m voting for people who really know what it takes to get God’s attention...with knees that can still be bent, and voices that can still be humbled when they say “God Bless America”.

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