The Americas

Someone like me who once lived in a totalitarian society finds it surprising and troubling that so many American churches have defined their mission as “to work for peace and justice in our world” but have neglected the defense of freedom as an essential part of their public ministry.

I owed Mother an apology. I had knowingly dismissed her fears. I refused to let fear determine my course. But I had heedlessly exposed my beloved wife and children to mortal dangers.

My generation and the generation before us inherited an enormous wealth of spiritual capital from a society shaped by hundreds of years of deep religious faith and engagement. Our environment was shaped by that wealth in ways that many of us did not understand; we took it for granted.

In short, America—and good, decent people who live here—has allowed me to become who I am and gave me everything I have. I doubt my story would be possible in any other country, but even if it was, it happened here.

The struggle for that free and decent world never ends this side of the parousia.

The common thread across these scenarios is the use of force, fraud, or coercion to keep victims under control and extract profit. This is the defining feature of human trafficking. Fortunately, these heartbreaking, uncivilized practices no longer go unnoticed.

Hope is, fundamentally, the conviction that things can be different, that what is badly wrong with the world is not ultimately irreparable. Like the Christian calendar, which mirrors the rhythms of the year even as it points to something beyond, hope directs our vision to a better world just beyond the horizon.

“We have,” said an exuberant campaign orator in the recent campaign, “the moral leadership of the world. The whole world trusts in our devotion to freedom and expects us to save mankind from totalitarianism.” That is how we see ourselves, at least in our more complacent moods. The world does not see us as we see ourselves.

Considering our blessed lives as a people, in spite of all, we cannot give up on hope. Jefferson spoke for each one of us: “I steer my bark with hope in the head, leaving fear far astern.”