My America, 1620

In 1620, an extraordinary thing happened.

At a small landing on the extreme western edge of the Atlantic Ocean, a boat named “Mayflower” rested just off shore of a rock, soon to be named Plymouth. Lost, but not mortally or dreadfully so, roughly 100 “sojourners” and 30 “strangers” arrived on November 11. With Autumn full blown and winter approaching quickly, the 130 had to figure out how to live with one another, how to survive a New England winter, and, most importantly, how to create a permanent community.

This glorious November as the election cycle brings even more bitterness, more anger, and more division, it’s well worth remembering a time that we all share in common—the real founding of America by a group of ordered, well-armed, and determined Christian families. Though I’m a Kansan Roman Catholic born in the Summer of Love, I can state with certainty, as I remember the audacity of the “sojourners” and “strangers,” this is my America. (Continue to Metropolis Café)

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