From Fr. Schumacher On Patriotism

I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above, Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love: The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test, That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best, The love that never falters, the love that pays the price, The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice. These lines are the first verse of my very favorite patriotic hymn. I sing it at different times during the year, but I love to sing it especially at Independence Day. (I admit a bit of a mischievous intention: the poet is British. It makes me smile to sing a British patriotic song on the Fourth of July.) But even if the author of the hymn is not an American, his lyric is simple and authentic patriotism, and indeed could be sung sincerely by any patriotic man anywhere in the world. What is patriotism? Patriotism is a man's sincere love of his country. It is distinguished from chauvinism because I do not need to hate or despise anyone else's country in order to love my own. That last point is obvious from a more domestic example: everyone should love his own family, but that certainly doesn't mean that he should hate or despise other families. Love of my own good does not entail exclusion of the good of others. Patriotism—the love of my own country—derives from the obligation everyone has to honor the good things through which he himself came to be. God commands that we honor our parents, since without them we would not exist. The same applies, by extension, to our town and our country, which gave us our culture, "who we are" in a broad sense. Patriotism, thus, depends upon the recognition of "my own" as distinct from others, not to their detriment, but for the proper gratitude for the particular goodness of our own place. What is the particular goodness of America? Many things could be proposed, of course, but my list would highlight the constitutional form of government as our defining characteristic. What else binds us together as Americans? We are a people who have come together from all over the globe: English, Scottish, Irish, French, German, Italian, Polish, Chinese, Vietnamese, Filipino, Indian, African, Hispanic, Arab, and every other nation on earth has representatives within the "American People." It is not, originally, language that binds us together: my own ancestors in Kansas spoke German for a hundred years before switching to English. It is not cuisine: every American city is filled with hundreds of different nationalities' restaurants, and in America a man may have the last name Schumacher and enjoy a different style of food every night of the week, without ever tasting sauerkraut. It's not even religion: it is not necessary to be a member of some specific church to be an American; and even though our country's political framing depends upon a legal tradition founded in natural law philosophy which has been worked out especially by Christians, it is certainly true as a historical fact that our country has never been a confessional state, and has willingly assimilated immigrants from among many non-Christian backgrounds. The goodness of America is in its simple belief—almost naive—in the native goodness of human beings: that all men desire freedom, so that they may pursue the good in their own lives. All that is necessary to be a "good American" is that you acknowledge our common way of government and strive to be a good citizen in your own community. It is a shared political philosophy that has produced a nation of nearly unrivaled prosperity and mutual good-will for 250 years. But there's goodness elsewhere that we can acknowledge, and even delight in and learn from. The World Cup has been a great opportunity to do this: think of the joy we get from seeing the Norwegians doing their "Viking Row" in the stands, or the Japanese team dutifully cleaning their own locker room after the match. It's the very diversity of the different cultures that delights us, when we witness the peculiar goodness of each. But for these peculiarities to exist, each nation must preserve and promote its own unique culture. This is why an American might sincerely oppose "multiculturalism" as an ideology: outsiders are welcome to visit, but if they wish to become Americans, they must become Americans by committing themselves to our political tradition, including the rule of law and the acknowledgment of the good as determined by the natural law philosophic tradition. It is this tension, it seems to me, that has caused such distress in American society in recent years. There are different conceptions of what the common good entails and how to achieve it. And this brings us back to the consideration of religion: in the end, a merely natural basis of social cohesion is weak, and probably destined to fail. What can supply the necessary strength? Only a supernatural foundation: the truth of the Christian religion and the Catholic Church. It's marvelous to consider how the Catholic Church is able to accomplish the "unity in diversity" so ardently sought by the movement of Liberalism for the last four hundred years: a Church that embraces all the world's marvelous diversity within her unity. Which is why I love the last verse of the hymn I quoted best of all: But there's another Country I've heard of long ago: most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know. We may not count her armies; we may not see her King: Her fortress is a faithful heart; her pride is suffering: And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase: Her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace.