On a recent trip to Philadelphia, I stood in front of Independence Hall and was struck by how small it looked next to the modern city buildings rising up around it. But stand in front if it for a while and it grows right before your eyes! I imagined the voices of John Adams, Jefferson, Washington, Hamilton, all echoing inside this very building. I could hear their words bouncing off the bricks, the original cobblestones lining the street, the debate that led to drafting of our famous Declaration and the birth of our country.
I keep thinking of the word “declaration,” what it meant in those pre-Revolutionary War days, what it still means. A declaration: explanation, illumination, storytelling. The Declaration of Independence was an explanation of why the Continental Congress voted for autonomy; it was a compass, providing a map for our fledgling country. It told the story of what was to come.
When Abigail Adams moved into the half-finished White House on Pennsylvania Avenue, she watched the team of slaves work during the cold Northeast months to build a symbol of independence. She saw the irony in a War for Independence fought by a country still dependent on slavery. But she could envision a time when the first black president would move his family into that very architectural symbol.
America is one gigantic art project– a messy, wonderful, and irreplaceable work in progress.