Sociologist Robert Bellah has described Memorial Day as a day that serves to “integrate the local community into the national cult” of American civil religion.  Memorial Day was first officially observed on May 30, 1868 for Americans to pause in awe and gratitude for the supreme sacrifices made by those who died fighting in the Civil War.  It was originally called Decoration Day, as the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers were decorated with flowers.

Since then, the 620,523 women and men who have died fighting for our country in World War I, World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan have been remembered on this day, moved by Congress in 1971 to the last Monday of May.

In 2000, President Clinton passed a resolution requesting that Americans observe a “National Moment of Remembrance” at 3pm local time, pausing to remember and respect the lives lost by our servicemen and servicewomen.  In 2002, the VFW released a statement lamenting American’s nonchalant observance of Memorial Day and trying to rally support for legislation previously introduced in Congress to return to the practice of observing Memorial Day on May 30, in the hope that this stand-alone holiday might reorient more Americans back to the day’s original significance.

Since, for most Americans, Memorial Day is a day for relaxation and fun, backyard barbeques, and the official start of summer, it makes me wonder what kind of “civil religion” Bellah would describe us practicing today.

I have to admit the reason I went to a Memorial Day Parade last year was to show my son the marching bands and the flashing lights on the police cars and fire engines.  And it was mostly for the fire engines.

Once there, however, I was taken aback by what I saw: in addition to the bands and dance troupes, a few antique automobiles, and a police and fire detail, there was a squadron of fragile-looking senior veterans marching to honor their fallen comrades.  I was struck not only by the charisma surprisingly revealed through their fragile figures, but the sparse crowd that stood at attention for them.  It was mostly other senior citizens and young families who had brought their children to take in the sights and sounds.  There were a few others who were in their 20s and 30s, but most were casually talking over coffee or flipping through their phones.  My eyes locked with a veteran pulling a wagon full of American flags waiting to be handed out – to spectators who either didn’t want a flag or who never showed up in the first place.  And this was in Cambridge, just blocks from where George Washington took command of the American Army on July 3, 1775, leading America’s first soldiers to confront tyranny.

After my surprising sense of anger at the seeming apathy of my fellow citizens subsided, I had to acknowledge that this was my first Memorial Day parade since my grandparents took me by the hand to one as a child.  Both of my grandfathers were veterans, and I still remember the pride in their eyes when they’d stand, remove their hats, and place their hands over their hearts as the American flag would pass us.  They never spoke of their friends and relatives who never made it home, but I have long felt a sobering sense of gratitude for the fact that my grandfathers did return home – or else I may very well not exist.

I have complicated feelings about our armed services.  Saving Private Ryan was released when I was in high school, and the awe I felt watching the honor and sacrifice of the soldiers on the screen made me wonder if I had what it took to serve my country and the cause of freedom.  When it was time to think about choosing a college, I investigated the service academies and considered a future in the military, but got turned off by what I saw as systematic endorsement of rigid conformity, blind obedience, and a good deal of bureaucratic inefficiency.  The more I got involved in community service and international immersion trips, the more skeptical I became of the good being done in the name of our national defense.  I learned about the School of the Americas and other injustices inflicted abroad.  And the fact that 27 cents of every $1 paid in taxes goes to the military when there are so many grave needs in our schools, health clinics and hospitals, and neighborhoods.

I was in college on 9/11 and in the days afterwards.  I remember the swell of patriotism, and in some cases, xenophobia.  I studied abroad in Madrid after the U.S. invaded Iraq in March 2003 and was advised by friends, family, and even professors to try to pass for a Canadian, in order to avoid the derision of Europeans opposed to America’s unilateral aggression.  I was exposed to a lot of views throughout my studies and travels in Europe that I never heard, read, or saw back home.  It opened my eyes to how the U.S. is viewed by (some of) those outside our borders.

I’ve had illuminating conversations with students at Catholic colleges who are enrolled in R.O.T.C or are veterans attending college after already having served our country.  They remind me that the military is a vehicle for social mobility, and in some cases, one of only a few viable options to pay for college without being overwhelmed by student loans.  They also point out the humanitarian aid and peace-keeping operations enhanced by U.S. military resources, personnel, and expertise.

My feelings are complicated because of all these complex issues.  I don’t mean to reduce everything down to one issue or a single day.  Mourning the departed and honoring their sacrifices on Memorial Day should stand distinct from paying tribute to our surviving vets on Veterans Day.  War isn’t the same as national security; moreover, the rise of terrorism has changed how to approach both.  Although recent headlines ranging from reigning in defense spending to sexual assaults on soldiers by other soldiers add to my hesitations, these concerns shouldn’t be projected onto all our soldiers, especially fallen heroes from previous decades.  It takes great courage to stand up to evil, and their courage should not be forgotten.

I’ve discussed these ambiguous feelings because they might be shared by others who feel committed to the cause of human dignity and human rights, to justice and peace.  But such uncertainties shouldn’t give us license to be stand-offish when it comes to honoring those who’ve paid the ultimate price for the privileges and liberties we so readily enjoy.

Labor organizer Mother Jones famously urged people to “Pray for the dead, and fight like hell for the living.”  In a homily earlier this week, Pope Francis stressed the fact that “Courageous, humble, and strong prayer can accomplish miracles,” and lifted up victims of wars and refugees as being in particular need of our prayer.  These steadfast prayers for peace and healing should be combined with public action that demonstrates support for those who have been forced to bear the costs of war, both personal and financial.  Visiting a cemetery, standing at attention for a parade, or observing a moment of silence at 3pm today might be the first step to revitalizing our commitment to uniting our prayer and action to honor the dead and fight for the living.