Friends of Padre Steve’s World,
Senator John McCain’s memorial service in the Capitol, his funeral at rites at Washington’s National Cathedral, and his burial at the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis marked the end of an age that he symbolized. McCain had an outsized influence around the world for a United States Senator. As Senators go it is hard to find one with his moral, and political influence around the world. I think that maybe we would have to go back to Senator Henry “Scoop” Jackson to find one with his influence abroad.
Likewise, one has to go back far longer to find a Senator who could oppose a malignant President of his own political party as did McCain oppose Donald Trump. Barry Goldwater facing off with Richard Nixon in 1974 is one, but I think the most similar comparison with with Senator Stephen Douglas who stood up to James Buchanan in 1857 and 1858.
Though McCain was a flawed man, something that he readily acknowledged, he was an honorable man. Like Abraham Lincoln, McCain believed that the soul of America, its found in the principles of the Declaration of Independence. This was a document that both men based their lives in understanding the full meaning: those principles were not just limited to white male property owners as was the case in 1776, but extended beyond that, to every American, and for that matter every human being.
We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed…
McCain understood that in terms of human rights, the environment, civil rights, and a respect for the underlying philosophical, religious, and legal principles that are the foundation of free societies everywhere. But now, in the United States and around the world those foundational principles are under attack from power hungry autocrats. Sadly they are led by the man whose name was unmentioned at his funeral but whose malignant presence was felt overwhelming by many who were there or who watched it, President Donald Trump.
Some attendees and others recorded that they momentarily felt that perhaps what has been lost will be recovered. But within hours most realized that this was not just a funeral for John McCain, it was a funeral for what America was and will likely never be again regardless of how the Trump presidency ends. The malevolent forces that he has unleashed were already there in the United States and in many other countries, but they were held in check until a leader unbound by the principles of the Declaration, without respect for law, without appreciation for the unwritten codes of morality, political, and civil behavior that are essential for the maintenance of a republic like ours became President.
In a sense the election of Donald Trump opened wide the gates of Hell, to the worst aspects of human behavior. If Donald Trump was to choke on a chicken wing while raving at a cable news host while tweeting and die, the damage would not only be done, but it would continue until those who would “support him even if he killed someone on 5th Avenue” are defeated at the polls, driven from power, and shamed into a sense of normalcy as were the Germans after Hitler’s Thousand Year Reich was overthrown. America will survive, we may even return to our founding principles, but it will not be without much pain, much sacrifice, and the loss of many things that we currently hold dear.
Thus when I read a column today that mentioned that McCain’s funeral was also a funeral for what we have lost I began to think about the opening chapter of Barbara Tuchman’s classic work The Guns of August. In that chapter Tuchman recounted the funeral of Britain’s King Edward VII in 1910, four years before the beginning of the First World War. She wrote:
SO GORGEOUS WAS THE SPECTACLE on the May morning of 1910 when nine kings rode in the funeral of Edward VII of England that the crowd waiting in hushed and black-clad awe, could not keep back gasps of admiration. In scarlet and blue and green and purple, three by three the sovereigns rode through the palace gates, with plumed helmets, gold braid, crimson sashes, and jeweled orders flashing in the sun. After them came five heirs apparent, forty more imperial or royal highnesses, seven queens—four dowager and three regnant—and a scattering of special ambassadors from uncrowned countries. Together they represented seventy nations in the greatest assemblage of royalty and rank ever gathered in one place and of its kind the last. The muffled tongue of Big Ben tolled nine by the clock as the cortege left the palace, but on history’s clock it was sunset, and the sun of the old world was setting.
At the end of the chapter Tuchman wrote:
Along Whitehall, the Mall, Piccadilly, and the Park to Paddington Station, where the body was to go by train to Windsor for burial, the long procession moved. The Royal Horse Guards’ band played the “Dead March” from Saul. People felt a finality in the slow tread of the marchers and in the solemn music. Lord Esher wrote in his diary after the funeral: “There never was such a break-up. All the old buoys which have marked the channel of our lives seem to have been swept away.”