"What Is an American": De Crevecoeur in My Words

     I wish I could be acquainted with the feelings and thoughts which must agitate the heart and present themselves to the mind of an immigrant or refugee first arriving in America.  They must perceive that we have it all in America, and if we don't have it all, we can have it all through our toils.  They must necessarily feel a share of national pride in the great opportunity that America promises, seeing that everyone has a car, food is widely available, water is clean and free, and there is a house on every corner.  Here the immigrant beholds developed cities, buildings with hundreds of windows offering hundreds of jobs, good roads, and even what is said to be the worst of conditions is better than they could imagine.  A sea of milky white faces blurs before them, and a chorus of a single language sings out together.  This is the most perfect society now existing in the world.  Here each person is as free and safe as they ought to be; one can worship as they please, speak as they please, and even disagree with the government on political affairs without the threat of death or imprisonment.
     Yes, America is a great nation where one has freedom do go about life as one sees fit.  America keeps her citizens safe and free, offering the opportunity to "have it all" and exist in a society where one's voice matters.  But these ideals do not come without consequences.  In the quest to "have it all," the American citizen becomes wrapped up in greed, and when they do have it all, still they want more.  The citizen is never satisfied with their conditions, ones which are better than citizens of a less fortunate country could ever imagine.  Yes, the American citizen is safe and free, but in the quest to maintain these privileges, is unwilling to sacrifice this for the betterment of the foreign brother or sister.  We are a privileged nation, and one that hasn't had to think without these privileges present.  We are a nation wrapped up in consumerism, greed, and selfishness; we have lost our sense of empathy and care for those that do not share in our privileges.  But some citizens recognize this and work still to right the wrongs.  America continues to struggle with greed and generosity, consumerism and a stable economy, corrupt politics and leaders seeking to better our nation.  We are never satisfied, but we will not allow our nation to sink into despair and cease to make an impact on the world.  We are not the most perfect society existing in the world, as some citizens have recognized, and laying down this pride, we work together to assist each other and the foreigner seeking refuge.  This is what makes America great--that we have the opportunity to aid where others may not, if only we use that opportunity well.

Jonathan Edwards

     As I was reading Jonathan Edwards' "Personal Narrative," I couldn't help but notice how affectionately he speaks of God.  He talks often of having found an inward, sweet delight, and how his prayers are filled with longing: "I very often think with sweetness and longings and pantings of soul, of being a little child, taking hold of Christ, to be led by him through the wilderness of this world;" (177)  "After this my sense of divine things gradually increased, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness" (173).  The way he spoke of God was the way you might hear one speak of a lover.

     Yet fast forward to "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God," and I'm not so sure we're speaking of the same God.  It's difficult to understand how you could be affectionate toward God, who "holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked" (200).  This God seems to be just barely restraining himself from blotting out all of these sinful, loathsome creates that are known as humans.    I felt like this message was less of an appealing one.  The message I got from his Personal Narrative was that God desires relationship with you and will fulfill your longings--this message was enticing and welcoming people into heaven.  But the message I got from this second writing is more of a message meant to literally scare the hell out of you.

     It's interesting to get both of these pictures of God from the same person.  Both are biblically backed, and both give us a greater picture of God, even though we want to believe one more than the other.  Although I gave Jonathan Edwards a bad review earlier, maybe I should give him some grace, as he is only trying to explore different aspects of who God is.

Who is "We?"

     As I've been pondering who the "we" is so far in American history, I'm still not quite sure.  The "we" John Smith refers to is targeted at people who want to build from the ground up, pull themselves up by their bootstraps, and become successful and affluent.  The "we" John Winthrop refers to are a group of people who hold tightly to their Christian morals, who desire to create a better future for themselves, like John Smith, but desire to do so by sacrificing for others and submitting to the teaching of the church and scripture.  The "we" that Mary Rowlandson refers to are those being oppressed by the Native Americans.

     Although "we" is meant to refer to a collective group, the way that these different authors have used it has inevitably excluded people from it.  In trying to find a common ground to work off of for the common good, someone has been left out.  There is always people who do not share the same convictions and beliefs, and those who do not care for the common good but more for themselves.  This is the struggle and tension we have in America.  After reading Obama's speech on the first day of class, I couldn't help but think that the "we" he used didn't always apply to everyone.  It was a biased "we," but as I've been thinking about it, I'm not sure that there can ever be an unbiased "we."  All we can hope to do is to keep struggling to find a better and more common ground, even if we don't ever get there completely.  And now I'm going to be careful about how I use "we." 

Anne Bradstreet and Edward Taylor

     I really enjoyed reading Anne Bradstreet, especially the Prologue.  I liked how she used sarcasm to convey her message, and to get the reader to see things from a feminine perspective.  A male reader at the time who understood the sarcasm she used would be forced to read her work for what it's worth instead of just "say it's stol'n, or else it was by chance," as Bradstreet points out is often done.  Since Bradstreet has already put those assumptions into words, it forces the reader to question what assumptions they are working from.  After reading, "Men can do it best, and women know it well," gives the reader a chance to question if this statement is true, or if Bradstreet is again making use of sarcasm. This poem, as well written as it is, is as a whole ironic.  The poem is pointing out how women don't get recognition for their work, even if it is well done.  And since this poem is so well written, it forces the reader to take women's writing seriously and to see that women are qualified and talented at things other than just housework or sewing.
     I also appreciated Edward Taylor's "Huswifery."  As we talked about in class, Taylor makes use of a spinning wheel and traditionally feminine tasks of making clothing to give us an image of God.  Oftentimes we think of God as a male being, and he can seem somewhat inaccessible to women at times.  But as we are all--both female and male--made in God's image, there is more to God than just masculinity.  We tend to neglect his feminine qualities, and Taylor's choice to point them out is one I find commendable.  Pointing out both feminine and masculine qualities gives us a fuller image of God and makes him relatable to all of us.  It also gives room for both men and women to act in ways that may not be "traditional" of their gender, yet they have freedom to do so as they learn how to best serve a God who is not solely masculine or feminine.

Mary Rowlandson

     As I read Mary Rowlandson's captivity narrative, I was fairly critical about her in two ways: 1. about how she spoke of her unwavering faith and 2. the racist comments she made about the Native Americans.  From the beginning she is quoting scripture and saying things like, "yet the Lord by His almighty power preserved a number of us from death," and "as He wounded me with one hand, so he healed me with the other."  She also refers to the Native Americans as "merciless heathens," "ravenous beasts," and the "barbarous enemy."  But my critique of her became more of a questioning of myself: 1. would I, in her circumstance, have trusted that the Lord was good? and 2. would I have refrained from racist comments or thoughts?  I'm not so sure on either of them.  I applaud her devotedness and trust that the Lord was at work even in the worst of circumstances, but at times it seemed a little too optimistic.  I'm not so sure that I would have been so confident--I want to say that I would have, but it's hard to say as I haven't actually been in those circumstances.  It's also hard to say that I wouldn't have said the same racist comments that she did in her writing.  If I had encountered people very different than myself and observed that their goal was to kill me and those like me, I might have thought of them as "ravenous beasts" or the "barbarous enemy."  Again, I want to say that I wouldn't but as I tried to put myself in her shoes, I questioned this.  But that is what I appreciate about literature.  Oftentimes when I hear or read about other people's actions it's easy to criticize and condemn them for the way they did things.  But literature allows me the opportunity to see things with someone else's eyes and ask hard questions of myself.  It also gives me the opportunity to learn from someone else's mistakes.

John Smith

     Growing up on Disney movies gave me a warm, romantic idea of the type of guy that John Smith was, but reading about him in our anthology put that to rest.  However, I think John Smith would want us to keep warm, heroic feelings toward him.  In "Virginia, New England, and the Summer Isles," he writes about himself in third person, "Captain Smith, who, by his own example, good words, and fair promises, set some to mow, others to bind thatch, some to build houses, others to thatch them, himself always bearing the greatest task for his own share so that in short time he provided most of them lodgings, neglecting any for himself."  Pretty sneaky how takes advantage of a third person narrative to throw in this description of his chivalry and humility.  Clearly he has a convincing case about his character, and he also uses these persuasive tactics in an attempt to get people to move to New England--marketing techniques, as we called them on Monday.  In "A Description of New England," he paints a pretty picture, as well as prodding at people's character in order to persuade them to move: "If he have but the taste of virtue, and magnanimity, what to such a mind can be more pleasant, than planting and building a foundation for his posterity, got from the rude earth, by God's blessing and his own industry, without prejudice to any?"  Instead of talking about the likely realities and harsh conditions of New England, how the new settlers would have to rough it for quite some time, he gives a convincing and patriotic message about building from the ground up, starting fresh, and creating your own life and prosperity through hard work.  And he throws God in the mix, telling them that they would have God's blessing on their endeavors.  Basically, if you didn't move to America, you were lazy, probably a coward, and most likely lacked trust in God.  Plus he gives them some insurance at the end, saying "And if I abuse you with my tongue, take my head for satisfaction.  If any dislike at the year's end, defraying their charge, by my consent they should freely return."  How can you say no to that?  Satisfaction guaranteed.  John Smith approved.