We left on vacation July 6, just two days after our national celebration of Independence Day. Typically, I’ve loved our little neighborhood’s quirky annual July Fourth parade, which includes appearances by groups like a Vespa troup, Taiko drumming corps, attachment parenting club, and reel lawn mower brigade, along with marching local elected officials from city council to our Congressional Rep. Jamie Raskin. This year, there also were floats and groups responding to our moment, such as the “Free DC” marchers protesting Donald Trump’s aggressive mass deportation efforts, who were carrying “ICE out of DC” banners.
But given the onslaught of attacks on freedoms of every kind from the Trump regime, the day felt heavy and lonely, even while sitting beside neighbors who shared my dismay and grief.
Our time in Portugal provided not only a break from the endless string of bad news but also some hope. Today, I’m sharing one highlight from our trip that is sustaining me.
Robert P. Jones
On our first night in Lisbon, a Monday, we grabbed a late dinner at a restaurant on Praça do Comércio facing the Tagus River. The mild weather was a relief from the swampy D.C. summer, so we lingered at the table, enjoying the breeze off the water. As we wandered back toward our apartment, we encountered a group of around 100 people gathered on the street. At their center were three guys with a single guitar and a simple sound system.
The musicians moved through all of the verses to the Beatles’ “Let It Be,” interspersed with seamless transitions to other choruses, such as “Forever Young” from the 1980s German synth band Alphaville, which the crowd effortlessly followed. This short medley was packed with multiple layers of meaning that resonate for our moment.
Hearing again the second and third verses to “Let It Be” was particularly moving to me on this first night away from America:
And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree,
There will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see.
There will be an answer, let it be ….
And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me,
Shinin’ until tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me,
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
While lesser known, “Forever Young,” packs more meaning than its simple chorus suggests. Released in 1984, it was written during Ronald Reagan’s presidency by artists living in a still-divided Germany who keenly felt the tensions of the Cold War and the real threat of nuclear annihilation. Its first verse (which wasn’t sung on the street that night but was likely known to the crowd), opens with this image and question: “Let’s dance in style, let’s dance for a while. Heaven can wait, we’re only watching the skies, Hoping for the best but expecting the worst. Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?”
Now, I know all the caveats to apply to this experience. We were there during the high tourist summer near a major landmark. We were in a relatively affluent part of town. But I was moved to tears by this diverse group, speaking dozens of languages, united around music from British and German artists, singing their hearts out and dancing late on a Monday night.
I’m still finding my sea legs after re-entry into the U.S. But I’m holding onto this memory as a kind of prayer for home: that though the broken-hearted people living in the world are still divided, there is still a chance that we will see.
Robert P. Jones serves as president and founder of PRRI and is the author of The Hidden Roots of White Supremacy and the Path to a Shared American Future and White Too Long: The Legacy of White Supremacy in American Christianity, which won a 2021 American Book Award.
This column originally appeared on Robert P. Jones’s substack #WhiteTooLong.