Rebuking the Lie of Independence

We need each other to live, and to cherish

The bill passed. The results will be devastating. Those already on the brink will fall further into desperation.

I’m seeing in so many and feeling within myself a sense of powerlessness. What can we do in the face of so much destruction? Where do we start?

The 4th of July gives us a hint, I think.

I’m convinced that the way we got here is by believing a series of lies, and living as if they were true. Over time, living this way collectively has catastrophic results. And the only path to change is by forsaking these lies and living into the truth.

One of the chief American lies is independence; and its antidote is interdependence.

All of this “big beautiful bill” business comes down to a disdain for particular people who are branded as somehow cheating the system: poor families who depend on health insurance from the government because they are unable to work, or else unable to secure the type of work that provides health insurance; undocumented people (who work and pay taxes, by the way) being somehow responsible for the employment and wage crises of everyone else, and also blamed for crime and addiction against all evidence; people experiencing homelessness don’t deserve housing unless they prove themselves “worthy” through work and assimilation.

The myth at the center of all these is that of independence: that everyone should be able to make it on their own without assistance, and if they’re not they are either too lazy or taking advantage of the rest of us.

The irony at the center of this is that those peddling the lie are the ones taking advantage: billionaire CEOs and their shareholders see their money multiply when they cut wages, remove jobs, and monetize essential services like housing and healthcare. They get tax breaks and incentives and contracts to the tune of billions while we nickel and dime those on welfare. They peddle independence as a virtue for us while leeching off of our labor and desperation; loud-mouthed, lying parasites.

And it’s okay to be angry, and frustrated. There will be moments to resist; this house of cards will inevitably topple. But in the moments where we don’t know what to do against the immenseness of it all, we can practice interdependence. We inoculate ourselves to the poison of dependence through small acts of interdependence—reminding ourselves that we need each other.

Let’s not mistake this for charity: it is not just the poor and “needy” who need us, the privileged. We all need each other, and have gifts to give one another if we’re humble enough to receive them. Help those who need help, yes, but we must also dissolve ourselves of any notion of superiority. We submit ourselves to the community, or we have not unlearned “independence”.

This can look a number of different ways. But one of the practices I’ve cultivated, in resistance to “Independence Day”, is that every July 4th (or on the hottest day of that weekend), I load up cooler and drive to my nearby unhoused encampment. The first year, I had water and gatorade—essential hydration needed for survival.

The next year, though, my little son taught me a lesson that I’ve been relearning for as long as I’ve worked with unhoused people: We all deserve more than just survival. My amazing son Micah suggested (at 4 years old), that we should give freezee pops to unhoused neighbors too, because that’s what he likes to eat on a hot day. So now, that has become an essential part of our annual tradition:

Freezee Pops and Tiny Wisdom

I’m hoping to add some electrolyte powder to mix into the water bottles next year, but here is what the spread looked like today. Everyone was thrilled, and so kind. My son went out of his way to ask people what their favorite colors were to give them their best choice of freezee pop. It was, as every year, special.

So if you’re short on ideas this weekend to resist all the ways that “independence” strips us of our humanity, consider a case of water and a pack of freezee pops for your neighbors: who deserve all they need to live, but also something to enjoy. We all deserve that.

And in the process, humble yourself enough to linger in a conversation with someone. Learn some names, and hear a story or two.

We will only get out of this horrendous mess we have made together. Exchanging the lie—that we can make it on our own—for the truth—that we all belong to each other—will produce the antidote for what we have created.

The fruit of it may not yield for a while, and many more will suffer in the mean time. This will not be undone overnight, as it was not built this way either. But we must begin, anew each day, to cultivate the truth.

God be with us.

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