The papal sojourn to America's shores was a reminder that foreign visitors sometimes see the United States more clearly than we see ourselves.
Though the Pope's tour was short, with global connectivity and constant news coverage he arrived with a great deal of knowledge about our country and current events. He likely left with few of his preconceived notions reversed.
But his purpose was not to study America, merely to pay a visit.
It's outside the purview of the Vatican, perhaps, but a chartered visit by a European chronicler to retrace the research path taken by Alexis de Tocqueville 184 years ago would be a fascinating sequel to Democracy in America.
The French author and thinker spent nine months in 1831 roaming America's countryside and cities, interviewing citizens and observing their work and life, beliefs and convictions, attitudes and behaviors.
Some of his words ring with an uncanny timeliness, as though his pen was dipped in ink this very week, not centuries ago.
Other of his writings depict a past that revisionists and detractors have nearly succeeded in effacing--creating an amnesia among honest citizens that needs remedying.
That religion in America has become a divisive issue would have puzzled Tocqueville, who repeatedly credited religion as one of the most prominent causes attributable to the maintenance of the American democratic republic.
Note this passage from his opus Democracy in America, Volume II, drawn from 36 weeks of being shoulder-to-shoulder with U.S. families, merchants and politicians:
"In the United States on the seventh day of every week the trading and working life of the nation seems suspended; all noises cease; a deep tranquility, say rather the solemn calm of meditation, succeeds the turmoil of the week, and the soul resumes possession and contemplation of itself. On this day the marts of traffic are deserted; every member of the community, accompanied by his children, goes to church, where he listens to strange language which would seem unsuited to his ear. He is told of the countless evils caused by pride and covetousness; he is reminded of the necessity of checking his desires, of the finer pleasures that belong to virtue alone, and of the true happiness that attends it. On his return home he does not turn to the ledgers of his business, but he opens the book of Holy Scripture; there he meets with sublime and affecting descriptions of the greatness and goodness of the Creator, of the infinite magnificence of the handiwork of God, and of the lofty destinies of man, his duties, and his immortal privileges."
Summing up, Tocqueville continued: "Thus it is that the American at times steals an hour from himself, and, laying aside for a while the petty passions which agitate his life, and the ephemeral interests which engross it, he strays at once into an ideal world, where all is great, eternal, and pure."
The declaratory tone of Tocqueville's observation is a strong and stinging rebuke to those who would rewrite U.S. history depicting secular origins.
At the same time, it is a stark reminder of the singular success in liberty--conceived by the founders and documented by Tocqueville--produced by a nonreligious constitutional structure which derives its power to govern from a deeply religious nation.
Tocqueville proclaimed the combination uniquely beneficial and a critical example for other countries seeking to replicate America's success.
The short institutional memory, and the even shorter attention span, of digital generations can and does corrode our national identity. Tocqueville's prose repairs some of that corrosion.
His purpose was to showcase the U.S. experiment as the best example of attainable democracy, so he cited some threats and cautions.
He viewed materialism, for instance, as a "dangerous disease of the human mind" for all nations, but "especially to be dreaded among a democratic people because it readily amalgamates with that vice which is most familiar to the heart under such circumstances."
Once a people begin to indulge in excessive physical gratification--that all is matter only--he said, materialism "hurries them on with mad impatience to these same delights."
"Such is the fatal circle within which democratic nations are driven round."
He perceived that religion in America served as a potent check against materialism.
Most religions, he asserted, are only general, simple, and practical means of teaching men the doctrine of the immortality of the soul.
"That is the greatest benefit which a democratic people derives from its belief," he wrote, "and hence belief is more necessary to such a people than to all others."
He then issued this warning: "When, therefore, any religion has struck its roots deep into a democracy, beware that you do not disturb it.
Instead, he admonished, "watch it carefully as the most precious bequest of aristocratic ages."
Soundbite revisionists will remain unmoved, but for those seeking a revelatory understanding of religion as it relates to democracy: Read Alexis de Tocqueville.
Apologies Aweigh
A couple of astute readers corrected my blundering reference last week to Yogi Berra as a "soldier," when in fact he was a sailor. I apologize to all those in the Navy for the error.
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Dana D. Kelley is a freelance writer from Jonesboro.
Editorial on 10/02/2015