I have been Bishop of Columbus, Ohio, for four years. Frequently, I ask myself, “How could this have possibly happened?” I believe that one reason is that I grew up in the United States of America.

My parents were not so fortunate. Born in India in the 1930s, they were ruled by the British monarchy. At around 10 years of age, they gained independence. For my father, the United States was a “city set on a hill,” a place where there was freedom to practice one’s faith, to own one’s land, to breathe fresh air. The United States was the champion of human rights and, emerging from the Second World War, she was the best defense against communist oppression. 

Thus, when the opportunity came to bring my mother and two oldest brothers to the United States, he seized his chance. In January 1970, he came to the United States with all his possessions in one trunk. My father was offered a job to work as a physician at St. Charles Hospital in Toledo. The Sisters of Mercy offered him work and a place to stay. 

After a few months, he brought my mother and brothers to the United States. When I stare at my father’s trunk, I am overcome with emotion, reflecting on the life that emerged from that box.

Within three years, my parents had three more boys. We lived in East Toledo, a poor, working-class section of the city. Although we, as immigrants, and the only Indians in the community, encountered some prejudice, for the most part, the people of the parish received us warmly. My father never permitted us to tell others his occupation, although I suspect they knew. He did not want any class warfare. We attended church and school with the people from the neighborhood. My father was a firm believer in equality.

He wanted to instill in us the principles of the Declaration of Independence: “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.”

I remember vividly the bicentennial year — bicentennial quarters, parades, patriotic songs. I have a distinct memory of my father photographing us and filming us with his 8mm camera on our front porch. He fashioned a Liberty Bell from aluminum foil and hung it on the porch, adorned with the words “Proclaim Liberty Throughout All the Land.” Each of us boys, dressed in patriotic colors, held signs to mark the bicentennial. We stood as proud Americans.

My parents and brothers recently had become citizens, which meant renouncing Indian citizenship. Years later, I asked my father why he did it; he answered simply, “I wanted you boys to have something better than we had — a better life, more freedom, stronger faith.” He then explained how he prepared for his citizenship exam. Wanting to pass that exam so badly, he memorized the entire Constitution! That’s what freedom meant to him. For him, this country’s precious freedom meant life for us!

In his 1987 visit to the United States, Pope St. John Paul II said: 

…your greatest beauty and your richest blessing is found in the human person: in each man, woman and child, in every immigrant, in every native-born son and daughter.

For this reason, America, your deepest identity and truest character as a nation is revealed in the position you take towards the human person. The ultimate test of your greatness is in the way you treat every human being, but especially the weakest and most defenseless ones.

The best traditions of your land presume respect for those who cannot defend themselves. If you want equal justice for all, and true freedom and lasting peace, then, America, defend life! All the great causes that are yours today will have meaning only to the extent that you guarantee the right to life and protect the human person. …

This is the dignity of America, the reason she exists, the condition for her survival — yes, the ultimate test of her greatness: to respect every human person, especially the weakest and most defenseless ones, those as yet unborn.

It is heartbreaking when I hear people speaking ill of the United States, but, I think, “At least, we have freedom of speech!” It makes my blood boil and brings back painful memories when people treat new immigrants with contempt, shouting: “Keep out! Stay out! Go back to your own country!” 

While possessing a right to secure its borders, America also has a rich history of hospitality. From the beacon hand of Lady Liberty: “Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she with silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

People continue to stream to the United States not only because of what she was or is, but also because of what she will be. She, by God’s grace, has blessed us with the freedom not only from oppression but also with the freedom for excellence and building the civilization of love.

“Go back to your own country.” My parents stayed, and after some years, they began to identify this land and this country as their “home.” They were buried on American soil in the “land of the free and the home of the brave.” They were happy to live and to die as citizens of the United States with their eyes set firmly on heaven, our true homeland. Our life, like the lives of millions of others, is here now. 

For the bicentennial, I memorized the verses of a Woody Guthrie song: This land is your land/ This land is my land / From California to the New York Islands/ From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters / This land was made for you and me. 

As we celebrate the 250th anniversary of the United States, may God bless this land, the United States of America, our home, sweet home!