The American faith

I'm American by birth.

But I'm also American by choice.

My family -- not me, but my family -- has endured a bit of shit here. My mother's side was interned. My father's side lost an uncle fighting in the 442nd. I lost a great-aunt in the Hiroshima bombing.

It's not always productive or wise to analyze historical grievances. I'm not going to claim that they went through more or less than anyone else. But I do take pride that my family stayed, and worked, and served, and had children, and lived. "Endure. In enduring, grow strong."

My family didn't produce generals, or cabinet secretaries, or tech savants. We produced mostly teachers and gardeners and clerical workers and programmers and a couple artists. And that's okay. They shed the language, shed the culture, and did what they could do to build a life. And to America's credit, they were allowed to.

I use my race, and my history, to understand certain things. But it's a tool for understanding, or a way of empathizing. The past is not a good place to live; I will take care to be a visitor, and not a resident.

I have learned, and continue to learn, about this nation's sins, both past and present. I have come to see it more clearly (though still through a glass, darkly). I have, slowly, started to listen, to add the historical memory of others to that of my own.

And I still love this country. It has given me much. And it continues to be where I place my heart. It's my faith, the one I have explored and clung to for my adult life.

I do not use that word lightly. Faith demands sacrifice. Faith is a constant struggle. Sometimes, faith seems like a lonely road. I believe faith is a covenant, not a comfort. It is not the faith of a child, but the faith of the adult, who has seen things, learned things, and still believes.

Not everyone feels loved by this country. And that cuts across lines of race, faith, class, gender, orientation, and other categories. And that's a tragedy. It's my personal tragedy, and I feel it as a personal failing. And I'm going to do better about that. I'm going to listen more. And I'm going to reach out more.

I'm going to stay here. And I'm going to work, in my own, small, humble ways, to make it a bit better. Because, now, more than perhaps any other time in my life, my friends and family and country need me. And to be needed is such a powerful thing. Do not feel badly or scold those who cannot, or will not. We all live our faith in different ways, and there is no one best way to love.

I will continue to love this country. And I hope, by setting a good example, by standing up, infrequently but firmly, by training for the marathon, not the sprint, I can be a good citizen, and help others feel loved by their country. It won't be enough. It's never enough. But it's what I'm going to do. I don't know quite how yet, but I'm figuring it out.

Because you are the part of America that has loved me, inspired me, and made me a better man. You've given life to the abstract ideals. You've given of yourselves to make your corner of the country better. You've laughed -- laughed -- and that laughter, indeed, opens.

Of all the jumble of identities I carry, "American" is the most important to me. And I'm going to place that centrally in the coming years, and do a better job of living this faith, and loving you.