We went to Washington D.C. over Christmas break; and anytime we go, there is one outing that Julia insists on. We find a parking spot somewhere along 23^rd Street NW (preferably near the Old Naval Observatory) and walk down the hill to the Lincoln Memorial. Julia loves walking up every step to the top to say “hi” to Mr. Lincoln. 

Then we walk along the Reflecting Pool, stop at the World War II Memorial, hike up another hill to take in the Washington Monument and then go to our favorite lunch spot on Pennsylvania Avenue just across from the Old Post Office.

I pretend it’s for the comfort of a routine for Julia, but it’s as much for me as it is for her – especially the Lincoln Memorial. The sense of reverence grows as we walk up the steps, take in the words of conviction and aspiration cut into the white marble and gaze upon the face of one who gave so much for the country he loved – and the idea he loved even more.

On this visit, the Memorial grounds were undergoing a restoration. The great columns were wrapped in protective cladding and over half of the steps leading up to the summit were blocked – but that stopped no one. Individuals, couples and families braved the inconvenience and patiently made their way up and down the narrow strip of steps.

People smiled and stepped aside as Julia dutifully stomped up each step to the crowded gallery housing Lincoln’s statue; and even with the number of people, the relative quiet was noticeable.

But the thing that strikes me every time I visit is the rich variety of faces and languages experiencing the same thing that draws this farm boy from Saline, MI time and again. There is not one visitor – us included – that isn’t in at least one selfie to commemorate the moment.

Even now, my heart aches for the love of that memory of standing before Lincoln’s statue. The inscription above it calls the whole memorial a temple – and I couldn’t agree more. There are places of deep solemnity in this world, and this is one of mine. In the weight of that moment, I closed my eyes to take in the sublime beauty of the aspiration that Lincoln’s hall of marble represents.

People from across the globe come to experience it:

The aspiration that one’s worth is not measured by their wealth, their start in life by accident of birth, or their ability to swing a sword. That somehow, it is our common humanity that unites us far beyond the disagreements of policy we may personally hold. 

Even more compelling: That people can vigorously disagree politically. But even in the disagreement, they would choose government by hard won consensus and peaceful persuasion over coercive autocracy from the left or the right. That our diversity of experience and conviction is far more life-giving than the empty promises of “blood and soil”.

In a world ruled by oligarchs, despots, monarchs and demagogic leaders who leverage our fear for personal gain, this patch of land on the west end of the National Mall stands in quiet opposition to the ugliness that happened at the other end of the Mall three years ago today.

And I said a brief prayer for our country. That somehow we will wake from this fever dream and remember our deep connection to each other – and our shared responsibility to each other. That we would find again our humility and commitment to the proposition that Lincoln gave his life for.

As I stood there in the moment, I was reminded by Julia that the Washington Monument (and our favorite lunch spot) awaited. I lingered a bit, but eventually we made our way back down to give space to others making their pilgrimage to this place.

We continued our journey east along the Reflecting Pool, and I turned once more to look up at the old marble beauty getting her facelift and couldn’t help thinking, “Needs some TLC, but it’s still beautiful.”

Much like the soul of our country.