Many aspects of the work of a United States federal judge are profoundly gratifying. Sometimes, they are almost overwhelmingly so. I became a United States bankruptcy judge, sitting in the Eastern District of New York, in Brooklyn, more than twenty years ago, and in that time, I have presided over more than 56,000 cases filed in our court, from no-asset Chapter 7 bankruptcy cases to multibillion-dollar global corporate Chapter 11 restructurings. Many cases are filed by large or middle market businesses that need the restructuring toolkit to get through a bumpy patch. Others are filed by small and even micro businesses, and entrepreneurs, for the same reasons. And still others—many others—are filed by individuals or couples who are seeking a fresh start, or to save their home through a Chapter 13 repayment plan. When these cases succeed, everyone wins. Homes and jobs are saved, and creditors get paid.
But as satisfying as that work is, if you ask me—or most any federal judge—what they find to be the most gratifying aspect of their work, the answer may surprise you: For me, and for many of my colleagues, the judicial work that may move us to tears of joy is presiding at a naturalization ceremony.
A naturalization ceremony is the final step on the path to becoming a United States citizen. That path is a long one, and it requires hard work and determination. An immigration lawyer could explain what is involved; and an immigration judge may well have a role. But in many federal judicial districts, and certainly here in the Brooklyn courthouse of the Eastern District of New York—encompassing Brooklyn and Queens, two of the most diverse counties in the country, as well as Staten Island—that last step is an oath administered in a federal courthouse, by a federal judge. And we hold these ceremonies four days a week, fifty-two weeks of the year.
There might be fifty new citizens in the courtroom—or more than two hundred and fifty. It’s the rule of law in action—working for individuals, families, communities, and the country. I have been privileged to swear in thousands of new citizens, from sixty or more countries of origin. And every time, it’s special.
When I enter the ceremonial courtroom, a court officer calls out, “All rise!” Usually, when I take the bench, I smile, greet the parties, and say, “Please be seated”—but not on this occasion. Instead, the citizenship candidates remain standing, and the ceremony begins with the Oath of Allegiance. This Oath includes a promise made by each new citizen, to “support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” At the close of the Oath, the new citizen declares that they “take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.” Then, we clap, and maybe we cry a little bit, and as the newest United States citizens, we recite together the Pledge of Allegiance.
Many years ago, when I first presided at a naturalization ceremony, I decided that I had three things I wanted to say—and over the nearly twenty years since then, these have three things have not changed. They are congratulations, and thank you, and welcome.
I begin with congratulations, and I say, “Congratulations, my brothers and sisters, my fellow American citizens, on the great honor that you have achieved today by becoming citizens of the United States of America. You have worked hard for this honor—you have earned it—and you deserve it. This is your day—enjoy it! This is your country—cherish it!—as your newly adopted country cherishes you.”
Next is, thank you! “Thank you, my brothers and sisters, my fellow American citizens, for your gift to our country of your citizenship. What do I mean by your gift? My country is now our country. Your culture is now part of our culture. Your history, your traditions, now enrich America’s history and traditions. We are all richer together as a country because of you. Each of you. All of you.”
And then I reflect on the promises kept that each one of those new American citizens represents: “You are the fulfillment of a very important promise that another group of immigrants made more than 200 years ago in the United States Constitution. What promise was that? The promise made in Article I of the Constitution that Congress would establish a uniform rule of naturalization, so that anyone who wished, and wanted, and worked, to become an American citizen could do so, and have a day for themselves like today is for you. That promise means that every person who arrives on these shores has the opportunity to become as much an American as the person whose parents, or grandparents, or great-grandparents were born here. So you are the measure and the fulfillment of the promise made by the founders of our country, immigrants themselves. By your oath of allegiance today, you keep that promise in the Constitution alive.”
Finally, the heart and soul of a naturalization ceremony is not only the promises kept, but the promises made. I remind them that “today, you also made a promise—you pledged allegiance to these United States. You promised to be outspoken advocates of liberty, and justice—not just for some, but for all. Not only when it is easy, but when it is hard. To be a full citizen in our democracy, you must embrace it. Do not let others make decisions for you! Study the issues, and vote! When you care deeply about an issue, write the mayor, your city council person, your representative, your senator. Write the president! Serve on a jury, maybe in this very building. Your voice counts—but only if you use it. Your voice can make a difference—but only when it can be heard.”
At my very first naturalization ceremonies, there were often children—and even grandchildren—in attendance. Sometimes I have invited them to join me on the big bench in the ceremonial courtroom. Always, whether they are in the courtroom or just in the thoughts of the new citizens, I speak to them too: “Finally, a special word to the children: could you please stand? You are the future. You are the love, and the light, and the energy, and the enthusiasm, of our country. You inspire your families, your teachers, your neighbors. Today, you inspire me. To your parents, you are the best part of every day. You are the beacon and the promise of peace, and of better days ahead. I welcome you especially, and I have great hopes for you in your adopted country.”
And then I welcome them, with all of the warmth that I can muster, and maybe again a tear or two. “So, from my head and from my heart, on behalf of all of the citizens who you join today in these United States, congratulations, and thank you, and welcome. You will be wonderful and wise citizens, and I am so proud and happy to share this day with you.”
Finally, I want them to know that they have left nothing behind—but instead, they have brought everything that makes them who they are to our neighborhoods and communities as the newest citizens of the United States. So, I read out the names of their countries of origin in alphabetical order, beginning with Afghanistan, Albania, Angola, and Australia, all the way to Venezuela, Yemen, Yugoslavia, and Zimbabwe. As I read the name of each citizen’s home country, they rise. And when I finish, I say one more country’s name—their adopted country, our shared country, the United States of America. More tears, maybe. And when everyone in the courtroom is standing, we sing together, loudly if not well, our national anthem.
This article is part of a series on the rule of law and its importance for business lawyers created by the American Bar Association Business Law Section’s Rule of Law Working Group. Read more articles in the series.
