Big rivers have to come from somewhere;
even the mighty Potomac starts small.
It may be Almost Heaven,
but it isn't Paradise.
Known as the Garden of Eden, or even Paradise, the original habitation of Man in the order of God’s creation was perfect in every way. No pests, no predators, no problems. No shortages nor sadnesses. What could possibly go wrong?
Since the Fall and that whole by-the-sweat-of-your brow-shall you-live consequence, Paradise has been not only a happy memory but also a goal: to restore or re-achieve what every human descendent of that first couple, Adam and Eve, somehow remembers well enough to desire.
When our forebears set forth upon this continent a great new undertaking, they had reason to recall Paradise, and to imagine its recovery. The broad and fertile land was not pest- nor predator-free by any means, but it was rich in opportunity for the sweat of one’s brow to achieve the requirements for life.
Having recently and for the umpteenth time crossed the Millard E. Tydings Bridge over the Susquehanna River and marveled anew at how big is this river that most people would not name if asked for five or even ten big rivers in our nation, I wonder at the courage that it took to undertake to eke out a subsistence from this hugeness, and the vision that resolved to order and erect a society that encompassed it.
Two hundred and fifty years have passed since a small and representative group took responsibility for that enormous project onto their own shoulders. One might think this necessarily another act of hubris, of men taking to themselves what is forbidden to mortals. But they were all familiar with both that ancient Fall and the Redemption that is its remedy, and wary of grabbing the fatal fruit. In their modesty, they left for every inhabitant of this nation what Adam and Eve enjoyed in their Garden days: respect for the intellect and will, and the freedom to act upon these in pursuit of what is good. So began the experiment in ordered liberty that has so benefitted us, and the world.
While daily surrounded by the benefits and blessings that have accrued because of their audacious action, many manage to preoccupy themselves and one another with the opposite, the past failures and the perduring problems. These have not only survived in our republic, it is asserted, but indeed have grown to define and degrade the entire undertaking.
How sad, and how wrong. Paradise long since lost, any pest- and predator-free place would also be devoid of human freedom, and in fact of human beings. People are not problems, but we do have a knack for causing them by misusing our freedom. To categorize any one human life as a problem is the temptation that deprives us of what we have in common with that person and our Divine Creator.
Rebuilding Paradise and re-achieving problem-free living invariably leads to the elimination of more and more actual people. Shortages and sadnesses are endemic to our human condition. They can either drive us apart or bind us more closely one to another. In this nation the burden of responding to them and remedying them falls to us, the people. The apple still hangs tantalizingly on the branch, and there will always be a voice in every ear suggesting you’ve been robbed and I can help you. All will fall for it some of the time, and some will fall for it all the time. Social upheaval ensues.
Perfection, while it lasted, included freedom. Deprived of perfection, we still crave and protect freedom. Anything can go wrong, but we are free to respond and rebuild. Paradise this is not and never will be. We know our limitations, yet our aspirations are limited only by our willingness to sweat our brows. We have a republic, if we can keep it.
Monsignor Smith
