The true national treasure of America is in recognizing human dignity
In one of his famous letters, the first-century Roman statesman Seneca wrote to his friend Lucilius and encouraged him to deepen his interest in philosophy. Lucilius, however, was doubtful whether his interest in this vaunted domain of the patrician class was appropriate. It was a doubt stemming from his modest beginnings, despite the newfound power and influence he had acquired as a financial administrator in the imperial bureaucracy.
Seneca aptly addresses his friend’s insecurity and provides a quiet but withering criticism of the Roman Empire’s class-based chauvinism. Responding to his friend’s uncertainty, Seneca quotes Plato’s dialogue “Theaetetus”:
“Every king springs from a race of slaves, and every slave has had kings among his ancestors.”
Note that, despite the gentling influences of Hebraic culture and Greek philosophy, the empire insisted on the divinity of its Emperor and patrician class. This reaffirmed the ideologies that alienated people like Lucilius. Eventually, Rome’s emphasis on natural hierarchies, power, and conquest would bring it into conflict with the fledgling Christians because of their embrace of universal human dignity.
One example of the effort to crush the Church and its social gospel of mercy was the martyrdom of St. Lawrence. During the third century, a prefect of Emperor Valerian ordered the deacon to appear before him with all the treasures of the Church. Lawrence spent the days prior to his summons distributing all of the Church’s resources to the poor, and on the day of his required presence, brought throngs of ill, blind, and hobbled persons before the furious prefect. There, Lawrence exhorted: “The Church is truly rich, far richer than the emperor.” He was swiftly martyred. However, Christianity was soon enough the official religion of the empire.
As demonstrated by St. Lawrence, the Church’s concentration on the poor and the dignity of man is uniquely threatening to systems of avarice. It entails the presence of an all-powerful, singular God who confers dignity and to whom all human affairs are ultimately answerable. This was intolerable to the Roman emperors, who saw themselves as deities because of their power, wealth, and influence. Instead of pure power, the Torah describes God as overflowing with love. His compassion is demonstrated by his actions: clothing the naked (Gen. 3:21), visiting the sick (18:1), and comforting those mourning the dead (25:11). The Book of Proverbs reminds us that “kindness to the poor is a loan to Yahweh, and he will repay the lender” (19:17).
Indeed, in Leviticus 19, God demands that the Israelites leave a portion of their harvest to the poor. His thundering proclamation follows:
“When you harvest the crops of your land, do not harvest the grain along the edges of your fields, and do not pick up what the harvesters drop. It is the same with your grape crop—do not strip every last bunch of grapes from the vines, and do not pick up the grapes that fall to the ground. Leave them for the poor and the foreigners living among you. I am [Yahweh] your God.”
As the United States approaches its 250th anniversary, the Church’s social gospel is particularly important. We are increasing our technological prowess and military capability, and the growing deprivation of the poor has led to new ideologies of transhumanism, bioengineering, and eugenics. The sinful message abounds that some members of the human family are innately inferior, including racial minorities, immigrants, women, the disabled, the poor, and the sick. Just as Emperor Constantine had to choose between the truth of Jesus and the idols of paganism, so too must our nation decide which ideology it wishes to defend: wealth or the gospel.
Thus far, America has a proud yet imperfect tradition that has advanced universal human dignity. Many of its most consequential citizens have come from humble beginnings, just as did Lucilius many centuries ago. He proved that the accident of his birth carried no encumbering influences on his later success. To wit, few would have predicted that people as ideologically diverse as Hank Williams, Cesar Chavez, Itzhak Perlman, Fannie Lou Hamer, Malcolm X, James Brown, and Ruth Bader Ginsburg all share humble roots and outsized contributions to humanity.
Should the inhuman and cruel ideologies of eugenics triumph, our country will be doomed to find itself without the genius of future generations who can help make a stronger, more dynamic future.
The true treasures of America lie not in its wealth or power, but in the recognition that one’s immutable characteristics are neither a guarantor nor foreclosure upon their future success. This deep-seated belief is reflected in the best elements of our Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, and our continual project of democracy, which countenances both corrigibility and the possibility of future wisdom. This unique system is integral to the American project, and only peril can result from its eradication.
As our country and Church battle this ancient yet enduring threat, may we pray to God for courage and reflect on the enduring words of the Psalmist:
“Oh, the joys of those who are kind to the poor! [Yahweh] rescues them when they are in trouble. He protects them and keeps them alive. He gives them prosperity in the land and rescues them from their enemies.”
(Psalm 41:1-2)
Alexander Walton is an honors graduate of Morehouse College, where he earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Philosophy. He is currently a Master of Arts candidate at Yale Divinity School and the Yale Institute of Sacred Music.
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