I don’t know about you, but most every conversation I’ve had in the run up to our country’s 250th anniversary celebration has been one focused on doubt. How can we “celebrate” our democracy when it’s in danger of disappearing? How can we come together under a common flag when we can barely stand next to each other? How do we hold the ideals of what Jefferson penned in the Declaration of Independence together with the way our rancid politics (and history) have soured the American experiment for so many?

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Well, friends, I have your answer: The World Cup. I don’t mean the games matches. (Though: Yay, Team USA and local hero Auston Trusty.) I mean the way the World Cup has lit up our city, highlighted the best in us, showed the world what Philadelphia can deliver (again!), and brought the kind of joy to our streets usually reserved for those two special weeks between an NFL championship and an Eagles Super Bowl. (Go Birds.) You know what I mean: Every interaction flavored with hope, an optimism that breeds kindness and comity, a back-slapping bonhomie that almost makes it irrelevant if our boys in green bring home the big trophy. We are one team, rooting for one team, together. And it’s beautiful.

It doesn’t matter that for the World Cup we are rooting for different teams; we are still doing it together and it’s an even more beautiful display of colors and humans and pure joy.

There were the Curacao fans marching down Broad Street in their orange jerseys like they just popped off after an Eagles win; the dancing, singing and chants of “Vamos Ecuadoriamos” shaking the subway heading down south; the red-and-white checkered Croatian fans partying with Philly Elmo outside City Hall; the Brazilians rallying at the PMA, the steps covered in their flag, Rocky hovering over all the action. Philly, along with Boston and Seattle, has emerged as one of the friendliest of all the World Cup host cities in a country that visitors everywhere are calling out for our friendliness and kindness. Our FIFA Fan Fest at Lemon Hill is the most attended in the country, an example of the Philly-style hospitality we showed when Pope Francis came to town or that we’ll see on July Fourth when the Parkway fills with concertgoers.

But this is not just about how friendly we are to strangers. Most of the folks parading around like Super Bowl champs are our very own — Philadelphians from every corner of the earth, here for the promise Philadelphia gave the rest of the foundling country back in 1776.

We are, as we were back 250 years ago, a city of immigrants. Of strivers and builders and creators of a new story, one that always comes back to the same themes of brotherly love and freedom and toughness and grit. The multilingual cheers of soccer fans are a reminder of what’s beautiful about Philadelphia: All of us living side by side, weaving a flavorful tapestry. This is what Tom McGrath referenced in a Philadelphia magazine article last month about Philly’s New Story:

There’s something kind of crazy, after all, about leaving the country where you were born and moving to a place where you might not speak the language and hardly know a soul, and yet our city was built, and continues to be built, by people doing exactly that. Similarly, there was something fairly outrageous about telling the king of England you were tired of all his nonsense and were going to start your own country.

That brings us back to the semiquincentennial. Everywhere you look, America is fraying. We no longer talk to each other in a common language. We can no longer look to our nation’s capitol to bring us together. Attacks on our rights — for women, Black Americans, immigrants, voters, everyone — have put a dent in the last two-and-a-half centuries of progress. We are not strictly speaking at war with each other, but we are in what amounts to a civil war between us and them — whoever your us or them happen to be.

The stories we tell of America’s founding tend to imagine a unified rebellion fighting against a country of oppressors. In reality, in 1776, most Philadelphians were loyalists, opposed to any declaration of independence from England. Those who stood up against King George were incredibly brave and strong. We need that same bravery and strength today to keep this 250-year-old experiment alive — the same bravery and strength McGrath rightly imparts to our city’s newcomers.

Can we do it? Before the last few weeks, I was less sure. Today, looking at the welcome mat we’ve laid out for World Cup fans, I finally see an America I recognize again. One that’s warm and welcoming and kind and friendly, where citizens help each other and listen with open hearts, where we support each other even when we are on opposing teams. Looking at you Boston, with your embrace of Scots, and Lawrence, KS, where the University of Kansas marching band learned the Algerian national anthem to serenade the country’s team, and here in Philly, where our Phambassadors have fanned out to welcome, guide, and cheer on our visitors.

That is the kind of patriotism that matters — devotion to each other in this crazy experiment. We’re better than others think we are. More than that, we’re better than we think we are. In fact we are, as Bill Maher noted on his show last week, “kind of awesome”. And it feels good to remember that.

Thank you, FIFA, for showing America itself again, and thank you Philly, for being the most kind of awesome. Again. Turns out, Independence Day came early this year.

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