What's the Point of a Flag Day, Anyway?

So, here in the United States, tomorrow is flag day. I'd put out my red, white and blue American flag, except I noticed it was ripped the other day and I'm not sure what my next move should be.

Not too long ago, any flag that was marred, torn, faded or in any way disfigured was supposed to be discard–preferably in a ceremony often done by the Boy Scouts. As scouts, my boys took part in a moving flag retirement ceremony that involved treating the flags with honor–it's considered a funeral for flags. Guests say the pledge of allegiance, the boys review flag history, a bugler plays and at the appropriate moment, the flags are put into an incinerator. They saluted while the flags burned.

We have another American flag in our house, but it's folded into a triangle and displayed in a shadow box. That flag flew over the aft end of the USS Michigan one day, and my husband transfered off the boat, they gave it to him. It's now displayed with all his military medals and his commander shoulder boards. It hold prominent display on

what he calls his "ego wall," where we've placed all his military plaques.

What is the purpose of a flag?

It's a banner, a rallying cry in war. Even at the Olympics, I think it's used to intimidate politically–though it also celebrates national pride.

I put out my flag on days I want to commemorate significant events in my nation's history–the signing of the Declaration of Independence on July 4; the remembrance of those fallen in war on Memorial Day. When we lived in Hawai'i, the boy scouts assembled at Punchbowl National Cemetery to decorate the graves there with American flags. It was beautiful to behold, and something stirred to see the rows of red, white and blue, acknowledging the great contribution so many made on my behalf–and for other Americans like you, as well.

I'm like many Americans; something about that flag swaying in the breeze brings out patriotism and pride in my country. But sometimes, I feel a little defensive about that flag and I know that I'm uncomfortable having it next to the altar of our church every Sunday.

My reading of American history tells me the founding pioneers came to North America in search of religious freedom–they wanted to worship God without the involvement of their king. That's what the pilgrims were doing when they signed the Mayflower Compact off the coast of Cape Cod in 1620.

My very favorite Doonesbury cartoon was from the VietNam War when B.D. was talking with his Vietnamese friend, VC Phred, about Christmas.

"Jesus was the son of God. He came to earth to save people."

"Wow," VC Phred said. "Jesus sounds pretty terrific. Was he an American?"

"Practically!"

I've always loved the irony of that cartoon because, of course, Jesus is not an American. He's not a Republican or a Democrat either. He's the Son of God and above all nations, flags, or attempts to co-op him into our particular point of view.

I like the fact Jesus is not an American, because that makes him accessible to everyone who has ever lived.

Tomorrow is flag day. I'll burrow through the cupboards and find the flag that flew over the US Capital building, that my son received when he became an Eagle Scout. Red, white and blue, it will fly to remind us we've had the priviledge of living in a grand experiment of freedom.

Thanks be to God.