There is nothing quite like the Fourth of July Fireworks on the Mall in Washington, D.C. It is a place each year, where no matter your political persuasion, race, religion, gender, sexuality or any of the other many ways we niche ourselves, that one can recall what is truly great about our imperfect union. It is impossible not to, because we are all there, together, regardless of the history that brought us there.

Last night, as my faithful canine companion Boo and I made our way from home down ten blocks of majestic East Capitol Street, past the Supreme Court to the Senate side of the Capitol to join the crowds, we were in a celebratory mass migration, walking past front yard barbeques, flags and bunting draped from windows.

When the fireworks started I had this crazy thought in my head — will there ever come a day when we have gone so far away from the religious freedom the founders of this great nation wisely enshrined in our founding documents, that we will see a huge cross light up the sky as part of the fireworks? I laughed at myself and the ridiculous notion that was, because just a few feet away was a family, the men and boys all wearing yarmulkas, fifty yards away another group of adults, the women with their faces covered in keeping with their religious traditions. I saw people of Indian or Pakistani descent but did not bother to ask if they were Hindu, Muslim or some other faith, and then a priest passed with a group of students, but I didn't ask if he was Roman, Anglican, or other. Most people weren't wearing any thing that identified their faith or any other belief, and everyone shared this moment together. Boo and I walked home, spirits buoyed by this great display of American diversity, through the thick smoke of neighborhood fireworks and the boistrous laughter of kids delighting at the noises and color.

But then I read that in Memphis, Tennessee, a conservative mega church that is anti-abortion and anti-gay and believes America has lost her way has unveiled a new version of the Statue of Liberty, replacing her torch, with a cross of gold. She looks out over a Dixie Queen ice cream stand, a used car dealership, and some pawnshops. Memphis is also home to Graceland, and many Elvis fans do believe the King will return.

A single tear has been added to Lady Liberty's face symbolizing the church's belief that she weeps for the state of affairs in America today. People projecting their personal beliefs onto shared symbols is not exactly new.

Liberty and freedom are in jeopardy today, but not from those of us who believe, like the founders, that people should be able to worship how they choose, that individual freedom and the right of every person to pursue life, liberty and happiness must be protected and preserved.

The threats liberty faces today come from those who believe only they have the truth, that there is no room for diversity of thought or belief and that those who believe differently than they should be stigamtized and marginalized. They justify their beliefs with the same Bible in which many others find compassion and motivation to bring healing to people by accepting them for who they are, knowing that love triumphs.

The Memphis church has also added a broken shackle around her ankle, symbolizing the original gift of Lady Liberty from France was given to commemorate the emancipation of slaves. The church is predominantly African American.

That brought a tear to my eye. That same Bible was also used to justify slavery and oppression of blacks for hundreds of years by some, until abolitionists and civil rights leaders refused to let it be a tool of oppressors any longer.

"We must remember than any oppression, any injustice, any hatred, is a wedge designed to attack our civilization," according to Franklin D. Roosevelt. And issues born of oppression against women, like restrictive abortion laws, or oppression of beliefs or sexuality that is different are wedge issues designed to divide rather than unite.