In an interview with the University of Connecticut a few years ago, history professor and author Micki McElya talked about the importance of Arlington Cemetery as a sacred place.
“I do believe that Arlington National Cemetery – as ground that has been hallowed over time by civilian and military uses – encapsulates the entire history of the country,” she said. “It’s both profound and beautiful as a space; it doesn’t tell just one story but it tells many stories, including contested and difficult ones.”
“I do believe that Arlington National Cemetery – as ground that has been hallowed over time by civilian and military uses – encapsulates the entire history of the country,” she said. “It’s both profound and beautiful as a space; it doesn’t tell just one story but it tells many stories, including contested and difficult ones.”
That story extends to its origins as a plantation built and maintained by slaves, many of whom are buried there along with their descendants. Its grounds include the house where Robert E. Lee made the fateful decision to resign from the U.S. Army and fight for the confederacy.
“Arlington is a site that pulls all of these historical and political threads together; but that puts a very big burden on a small piece of land,” McElya, who wrote a book titled, “The Politics of Mourning: Death and Honor in Arlington National Cemetery,” said.
It’s a burden Arlington doesn’t face alone. The United States is filled with sacred places, from local cemeteries to churches, synagogues and temples, to city halls and statehouses and the halls of Congress. That list also includes Civil War battlegrounds and land considered sacred by indigenous tribes, as well as countless historical sites and monuments.
Americans, and Utahns in particular, have been forced in recent days to confront the intersection of sacred spaces, specifically Arlington, and raw politics, a different sort of institution, often crass but also necessary to freedom.
It is a good intersection to explore, especially in an age where sacred things are too easily tossed aside or marginalized.
Earlier this week at a wreath-laying ceremony to honor the 13 soldiers, including a Utahn — Staff Sgt. Darin Taylor, who died during the U.S. pullout from Afghanistan three years ago, President Trump’s campaign staff clashed with cemetery officials. A statement from the Army said the participants in the event had been told about rules prohibiting filming for political purposes at such events.
The Army said a cemetery official attempted to enforce the rules but was “abruptly pushed aside.” For its part, the Trump campaign has called the cemetery official “despicable” and said she had a “mental health episode.” The Army said she acted with professionalism and has decided against filing charges.
Separately, Utah Gov. Spencer Cox’s campaign decided to post pictures of the ceremony, which he attended with Trump, and to use these in a campaign email. The governor subsequently issued a statement apologizing, saying the campaign was not authorized to do what it had done.
Campaigns and campaign workers can easily get out of hand and exceed their authority. That deserves a benefit of doubt. But Americans often take their cues from the actions of people at the top of state and national governments. The record there is slipping. We should demand better.
Last year, a clash erupted in the U.S. Senate over a long-standing dress code after Pennsylvania Sen. John Fetterman insisted on wearing shorts and a hoodie on the Senate floor.
That caused the Washington Post editorial board to say, “Dressing formally conveys respect for the sanctity of the institution and for the real-world impact of the policies it advances.
“Putting on a suit creates an occasion for lawmakers to reflect, just for a moment, on the special responsibilities with which the people have entrusted them and on a deliberative process that at least aspires to solemnity.”
A court, the editorial said, “wouldn’t be court unless (judges) put on black robes.”
And that gets to the heart of the matter. Sacred places are important because they convey solemn and often silent messages about things that are of real value to society. They urge us to dress differently and to act with dignity, which in turn urges our minds to contemplate things much larger than ourselves.
Churches, as The Hill quoted Harvard’s Robert D. Putnam saying, “build and sustain more social capital … than any other type of institution in America. Churches, synagogues, mosques and other houses of worship provide a vital institutional base for civic good works and a training ground for civic entrepreneurs.”
Historical sites honor those who made sacrifices and endured hardships that blessed future generations.
On an everyday level, civil discourse among individuals honors the sanctity of life and the concept of equality under God. Insults and profane discourse does the opposite. Weddings and funerals demand our best dress, not just out of tradition, but as an outward symbol of respect.
Yes, the nation needs a serious discourse about sacred places and decorum, and not just in the opportunistic realm of politics. A society that loses its regard for these places will become deaf to the messages they speak.
As the American Historical Review said in its review of McElya’s book on Arlington:
“Perhaps it is cliché to observe that in the cities of the dead we find meaning for the living. But … such a cliché is certainly fitting of Arlington.”
As it is in so many other places, as well.
“Arlington is a site that pulls all of these historical and political threads together; but that puts a very big burden on a small piece of land,” McElya, who wrote a book titled, “The Politics of Mourning: Death and Honor in Arlington National Cemetery,” said.
It’s a burden Arlington doesn’t face alone. The United States is filled with sacred places, from local cemeteries to churches, synagogues and temples, to city halls and statehouses and the halls of Congress. That list also includes Civil War battlegrounds and land considered sacred by indigenous tribes, as well as countless historical sites and monuments.
Americans, and Utahns in particular, have been forced in recent days to confront the intersection of sacred spaces, specifically Arlington, and raw politics, a different sort of institution, often crass but also necessary to freedom.
It is a good intersection to explore, especially in an age where sacred things are too easily tossed aside or marginalized.
Earlier this week at a wreath-laying ceremony to honor the 13 soldiers, including a Utahn — Staff Sgt. Darin Taylor, who died during the U.S. pullout from Afghanistan three years ago, President Trump’s campaign staff clashed with cemetery officials. A statement from the Army said the participants in the event had been told about rules prohibiting filming for political purposes at such events.
The Army said a cemetery official attempted to enforce the rules but was “abruptly pushed aside.” For its part, the Trump campaign has called the cemetery official “despicable” and said she had a “mental health episode.” The Army said she acted with professionalism and has decided against filing charges.
Separately, Utah Gov. Spencer Cox’s campaign decided to post pictures of the ceremony, which he attended with Trump, and to use these in a campaign email. The governor subsequently issued a statement apologizing, saying the campaign was not authorized to do what it had done.
Campaigns and campaign workers can easily get out of hand and exceed their authority. That deserves a benefit of doubt. But Americans often take their cues from the actions of people at the top of state and national governments. The record there is slipping. We should demand better.
Last year, a clash erupted in the U.S. Senate over a long-standing dress code after Pennsylvania Sen. John Fetterman insisted on wearing shorts and a hoodie on the Senate floor.
That caused the Washington Post editorial board to say, “Dressing formally conveys respect for the sanctity of the institution and for the real-world impact of the policies it advances.
“Putting on a suit creates an occasion for lawmakers to reflect, just for a moment, on the special responsibilities with which the people have entrusted them and on a deliberative process that at least aspires to solemnity.”
A court, the editorial said, “wouldn’t be court unless (judges) put on black robes.”
And that gets to the heart of the matter. Sacred places are important because they convey solemn and often silent messages about things that are of real value to society. They urge us to dress differently and to act with dignity, which in turn urges our minds to contemplate things much larger than ourselves.
Churches, as The Hill quoted Harvard’s Robert D. Putnam saying, “build and sustain more social capital … than any other type of institution in America. Churches, synagogues, mosques and other houses of worship provide a vital institutional base for civic good works and a training ground for civic entrepreneurs.”
Historical sites honor those who made sacrifices and endured hardships that blessed future generations.
On an everyday level, civil discourse among individuals honors the sanctity of life and the concept of equality under God. Insults and profane discourse does the opposite. Weddings and funerals demand our best dress, not just out of tradition, but as an outward symbol of respect.
Yes, the nation needs a serious discourse about sacred places and decorum, and not just in the opportunistic realm of politics. A society that loses its regard for these places will become deaf to the messages they speak.
As the American Historical Review said in its review of McElya’s book on Arlington:
“Perhaps it is cliché to observe that in the cities of the dead we find meaning for the living. But … such a cliché is certainly fitting of Arlington.”
As it is in so many other places, as well.
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