Originally published at crisis magazine
I think there’s something Providential about the proximity of Thanksgiving and Election Day, however man-made both days may be. The entire nation pents itself up for months—years even—for the biannual culmination of history upon which the very soul of our country rests. We yell, fight, debate (or used to), plan and manipulate for what appears to be, and sometimes actually is, the day to determine the next four years of our flourishing or declining.
And then, we all eat turkey.
The chaos of election season ends as abruptly as a bad date; and we’re supposed to pivot back to our real lives, real families, and real brotherhood as fellow Americans around the Thanksgiving table.
This pivot, as sudden as it’s always been, has gotten harder in recent years. Thanksgiving risks becoming simply another political fracas, all the more bitter because of the familial and formerly-sacred setting.
This may be in part because our elections have developed an outsized sense of importance. But maybe the shift is harder today because we don’t really want it. We’ve become addicted to the noise, the thrill of the fight, the glory and self-righteousness of our victories or (obviously unjust) defeats. And like true addicts, we keep chasing the
