SOUND OF FREEDOM

What should freedom sound like?

The house shook. Off in the distance, though not quite far away enough, there was an explosion. It was deafening.

And then, it happened again. It continued throughout the day which resulted in my neighborhood Facebook pages to explode in anguish over the loud noises. One reply not so helpfully advised, “This is what happens when you choose to live near a military base. Get used to it.” People can be so thoughtful on the internet.

These are comments I always read, though I know I shouldn’t. My body tenses. My mind soars with worry. My husband never leaves for the day to tell me that he’s going to shoot off cannons. I find out when the house shakes. I grab my phone to ask if he is safe though I know he won’t answer until the exercise is over. I know that he has to focus on these loud explosions of artillery.

Sometimes, it isn’t his unit that is out there in the field blowing things up. He will come home and show me a video of a cannon firing, beaming with pride. He echos what I read earlier in the day in the comments. Because it is always there. No matter what military base we live near. (This would be my fifth installation, if it matters.) It doesn’t matter what region of the country we inhabit, when the cannons fire, someone will type into the comments with pride and glory, THE SOUND OF FREEDOM.

My husband repeats this line with pride. He loves this work that he has done for twenty years. He is so proud.

In the neighborhood Facebook group, it always appears in all caps. Every letter is elevated as if it is shouting that glory of “rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air.” It’s often accompanied by a fireworks emoji though the term SOUND OF FREEDOM is more often meant to refer to jets that have broken the sound barrier. That sound shakes the very ground below my feet and I can’t help but wonder what sound freedom should make.

Photo by Aditya Saxena on Unsplash

These comments are not new. They haven’t only just emerged after it was said that the military personnel should be nothing more than trained killers. I’ve been seeing this same comment appear for the entire time that I’ve been married into the military.

Our national idenity has been limited to freedom that can only come through warfare. It is not just something to defend and protect. It must be fought for with ammunition and rockets. It seeks to destroy every opposing force. Those cannons remind us that we will win that war, though it seems to me that freedom is a quieter power.

Even when there are still masses yearning to free, could freedom be heard with greater gentleness? Must it boom and shake? Might it stir and inspire? It could come as a whisper, a hint of a promise that has long been forgotten but still deeply felt. It evokes something within the imagination that maybe was learned in history books. Maybe even realized in the pages of sacred text when it wasn’t celebrated as something only meant for individual gain. A star-spangled banner gently blowing in the breeze off in the corner of that worship space to remind those gathered that this is the land of the free and the brave, even though freedom is not guaranteed. It is not shared. It is promised, but has never actually been achieved.

I do not add this comment to those Facebook threads. I know better but I want to suggest that maybe freedom doesn’t come with power and might. Maybe it doesn’t come with annihalting other civilizations or the slaughter of innocent lives. It doesn’t come with explosions but echoes through the words of Julia Esquivel (as translated by Ann Woehrle) in They Threatened Us with Resurrection:

It is something within us that doesn’t let us sleep,
that doesn’t let us rest,
that won’t stop pounding
deep inside,
it is the silent, warm weeping
of Indian women without their husbands,
it is the sad gaze of the children
fixed somewhere beyond memory,
precious in our eyes
which during sleep,
though closed, keep watch,
systole,
diastole,
awake.

The poet suggests that such a threat comes because the guerillas “do not know life (poor things!).” They cannot hear freedom. They can only fight for it because it doesn’t live inside them. It is not pounding within them, fixed in their memories as something precious, but exists somewhere outside their reach.

They hoard it and protect it so that it only serves some, forgetting that there are other people that share their humanity. I wonder if I am guilty of that same sin. I am certain that somewhere I have failed to live up that challenge, but I am trying to listen with my whole heart. I’m trying to hear what sound freedom really makes.

The world is so heavy right now. It has been for so long and you might intuit all the news headlines that fueled these words. (And you’d probably be right.) I want to offer a tiny bit of relief. Maybe even a little bit of hope within this time. I created this SUMMER RELIEF KIT while I hit pause after spraining my ankle. My calendar is currently closed to directees but I wanted to offer something to explore while the world continues to burn. You can find that kit here for a mere $5.

Though I’m taking a break from my spiritual direction practice, I’m still writing. In fact, I’m writing a lot. Some more of those words might appear here. Or might not.

We are all struggling with the vocabulary that confuses our hope for this world. I certainly am. It’s one of the things I love most about spiritual direction. We get to spend time untangling all of those images and metaphors that don’t quite add up. If you’re interested in learning more about spiritual direction, click on the button below.

If something about what you found here in these words spoke to one of those pesky knots in your life right now, would you take a moment to hit the ❤️ button at the top left or bottom left of this newsletter? It helps spread the word about Prayer Threads and means the absolute world to me.