Spectacular!

An Independence Day Meditation

Part of playing in a high school band was marching in parades. Memorial Day. Independence Day. Veterans Day. And whatever “day” the band director said we would play. Parades are for families, children, veterans, dignitaries, and those who want to make a show of being there. Parades are pageantry. They commemorate and they boast, at least a little. But they are not necessarily the stuff of dreams. I recall the oppressive heat of the Fourth of July and the breathtaking cold of November 11, sweating in wool uniforms and being unable to feel my fingers and toes by the end of the route. At least the crowd got a good show. As one of my professors once said, the object is to “send ‘em home happy,” whether it’s a parade or a symphonic concert.

Before I was born, “Doodles” Weaver portrayed the radio announcer for Spike Jones’ “Dance of the Hours,” a comedy version of the Indianapolis 500 motor race. During the sketch, he famously exclaimed, “What a spectacle! What a wonderful spectacle!” Then he proceeded to describe all kinds of silly events on the racetrack. I’m reminded that almost everyone likes spectacles. The Indy 500. The Kentucky Derby. Playoff games. Championship fights. Mega-concerts. Summer blockbusters. Spectacles draw crowds, and more importantly, make money. And the more they are “one-of-a-kind” events, the more attention they attract, and the more money will be spent on them.

This is not an attempt to denigrate spectacles. We all need a little distraction now and then. However, we can be bamboozled by “bread and circuses” when our attention should be on real problems. As we approach our 250^th anniversary as a nation, it’s tempting to let the spectacular overwhelm us. While we have much to celebrate, perhaps we need to acknowledge we are in serious trouble on many fronts. It would be easy to let the Reflecting Pool, the Great American State Fair (or whatever various media sources tell us to focus on) become our obsession. It’s much more of a challenge to look history in the eye and try to understand both the good and bad. Like all of us, history is complicated. Yet, we can love ourselves – and enjoy the spectacle – as we renew our vow to “form a more perfect union.”

Our search for the spectacular can blind us to the mundane work it takes to hold things together. Not everything is spectacular. We need to keep in mind, if everything is special, then nothing is. While we live in a world of superlatives, not everything or everyone is “awesome.” And only a very few things can be described by, “we’ve never seen anything like it.” Often, we can’t fully appreciate something until after we fully understand the hard work and sacrifice it took to make it happen. Ecclesiastes says, “there is nothing new under the sun.” It seems to me we need to dispel the rumor that our spectacles are somehow “different.”

We still have gladiators – in the form of professional fighters – and public executions – rebranded as “cancel culture” – and pageantry – or rather conspicuous “branding” of practically everything in sight. We are still easily distracted by shiny new things, even when our dull old things need attention. We still fear we will “miss out” on the spectacle. Advertising slogans and propaganda have sold us on the spectacular by equating it with greatness. But perhaps the greatness we seek lies in the day-to-day work that makes the spectacular possible.

Thomas à Kempis, in The Imitation of Christ, asserted that “the highest does not stand without the lowest.” Our basic needs, simple pleasures, acts of love, and so on, are the “lowest,” the foundation upon which our concepts of greatness, excellence, and virtue are built. I wonder what will happen to society when basic needs are not met, simple pleasures are denied, and relationships are shattered by those who want to divide and conquer us. The spectacular only makes sense if the foundation is strong. No amount of “wonderful spectacle” can substitute for the good that was available to us all along.