Good or Great? America: What Will It Be?

 

"America will be great if America is good. If not, her greatness will vanish away like a morning cloud".     --The Reverend Andrew Reed, English Congregational minister, 1830

Are we the good guys anymore? America?

My God I so want to believe in this ideal, this myth, this civic self-understanding and shared aspirational dream. I think we might have once seen ourselves as good.  

Good. As in decent, humane, merciful, and generous.

The kind of nation that takes good care of its own, especially the poor and vulnerable, the unhoused, the ill clothed, the unemployed, and the sick. Can we claim that truth? Are we a nation that can be depended upon by our allies, that when freedom is on the line in some far away place, America will always stand with those peoples who seek to be free?  

Is that us?

Are we a country that still remembers that so much of our cultural vibrancy and economic strength comes from migrants and immigrants, folks who travel to our shores and borders seeking a new home and new opportunities? My paternal great-grandfather Edward believed that when he came here in 1876 from Ireland as did my maternal grandfather Armand, who immigrated from Canada in the early 1930’s. Both sought work and a new life.

Would those men be welcomed today? Or maybe turned away? Or who knows? Tracked down by masked government agents, arrested without a court hearing, thrown in an anonymous black van, then whisked away to some secret prison, maybe even never to be heard from again.

I still want to believe that America celebrates religious diversity, that our country is a place where you can believe what you want, and you can choose not to believe too. Whether Christian or Jew or Muslim or agnostic or atheist, America is supposed to be a place that honors and respects freedom of religion and freedom from religion too. Our founding forebears, the ones who put their signatures on the Declaration of Independence on July 4^th, 1776: do we really imagine they would have favored a Christian theocracy, or Christian nationalism? Seriously?      

Freedom of thought and speech and freedom of the press: those still apply here, right? That you or I can be flag waving or flag burning patriots and trust that those rights are both guaranteed by our Constitution.  How amazing is that?

I mean I think that the press’ job is still to be a bulldog when it comes to the government, to cover Uncle Sam without fear or favor.  I don’t think our press is supposed to be like a fawning little puppy or fox, yapping out “HURRAH!” anytime those in power pass this law or approve that budget. 

Should we be worried when a major news outlet pays $16 million to the President because his feelings were hurt by a new story? You’d think “No way!” That could never happen. Certainly not in a news organization whose forebears include Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite.

And yet this week that’s exactly what happened.

Can we be good, America, without a free and courageous press? I don’t think so.

And as the Declaration we’ll all celebrate on 4^th says, “The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States.” Translation: no Kings in America, then, now, or ever. And also, no dictators, no tyrants, no despots, no bullies, and certainly no civilian head of government with too much unchecked, unchallenged power.

Two hundred and forty-nine years ago, we left behind the monarchy and all the tyranny that always comes when too much power is given to too few, or to the one. Some may think that is great. But not me. Wannabee royalty is never good for America.

Not in 1776. Not in 2025.

Good or great?  What will it be America? Thank God that choice is still in the hands of we the people. Happy Independence Day!

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

    

Political Assasinations in Minnesota: Public Service Turns Deadly

“…America soars when we look out for one another and we take care of each other, when we root for one another's success …and try to build something better for generations to come, that's why we do what we do. That's the whole point of public service.” --President Barack Obama 

I write this essay on an overcast humid Saturday afternoon in Minneapolis, where just hours ago, at the majestic downtown Basilica of Saint Mary, Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband Mark were remembered and laid to rest.  The Hortmans were assassinated two weeks ago by a gunman posing as a police officer. The shooter had  just come from the home of Minnesota Democratic state Sen. John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette Hoffman, where they were also shot. They are still recovering from their injuries.     

There are so many awful details that surround this heartbreaking event.  The Hortmans leave behind two adult children, who’ll now be without their parents, no mom or dad for the years ahead. The killing took place in a relatively quiet suburb town of the Twin Cities.  Is any place safe from gun violence? The accused stalked his victims for weeks, surveilling their homes, noting their movements.  The killing was pre-meditated and meticulously planned.

But to me, what is most chilling and frightening about these cruel acts, is that when he was apprehended the shooter was found in possession of a “hit list” with the names of several dozen other state and federal public officials. 

Why did these office holders and agency heads and government workers deserve death in the warped and cruel mind of the assassin? What united the dead, killed, injured, and threatened, in life and in death? 

They were public servants.

They dedicated their professional lives to serving the public and contributing to the common good. They practiced public service, the call and vocation to serve the people. To work not for some extravagant amount of money, stock options or six figure bonuses. They worked in and for the government. And even though there are plenty of loud-mouthed pols and grandstanding pundits who love nothing better than to tear down and demonize government, the truth is we all need government and its public servants.

We need services like healthcare, first responders, public schools, and universities. We needs laws to shape a civilized society. For at its best government is a direct reflection of the will of the people it serves. Government helps to provide a social framework for what it means to be in community, in a town or city, in a state or a country.

And when our culture produces psychopaths who take it upon themselves to assassinate and threaten public servants, we are all in very big trouble.  Because government, and representatives like Hortman and Hoffman: they aren’t “they.”

Public servants and the government: these institutions and folks are finally us. Our neighbors and friends. The person we share a church pew with on Sunday morning. They coach Little League baseball and volunteer at the soup kitchen.

Like Liz, my local town librarian, who provides a place and space for folks of all ages to expand their minds and hearts through knowledge. The government is found in two public servant in the church I serve, Kate and Angie, who for years have served tirelessly on our local school committee, and with great devotion to the kids. Government is police officer James who parks his car at the end of the church driveway and helps to keep our town safe. The government and public service is you and me and us.

When a reporter asked our current President if he would call Minnesota Governor Tim Walz and offer him the full support of the federal government and condolences, this is how our commander in chief answered.

"I think the governor of Minnesota is so whacked out. I'm not calling him,. Why would I call him? ….the guy doesn't have a clue. He's a mess. I could be nice and call, but why waste time?"

Why waste time on compassion, goodness, and basic human decency?  If the Oval Office occupant doesn’t know the answer to that question, he doesn’t deserve to be a public servant, at least in this citizen’s eyes. 

Rest in peace, Melissa and Mark Hortman.  God bless you both.

And thank you for your public service.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

      

Fifty Summers Ago and One Big Shark!

You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”              --Chief Brody, from the 1975 film “Jaws”

Welcome to this, the first day of summer, June 20^th.  The day in the northern hemisphere when the earth’s tilt towards the sun is greatest, and when the arc of our sun moving across the sky is at its highest and longest. Counting today we have 95 days of summer left, three months, and three days. You could also argue the unofficial start of summer was actually Memorial Day and its unofficial end will be Labor Day, but let’s not quibble about the calendar.

Summer is absolutely here. It has arrived. Thank you God! Thank you Mother Earth! Thank you globe for finally changing your attitude and angle for these cherished few months.

But I’d like to propose that we also mark this day as one that forever changed the way that movies are made and seen and enjoyed by us.  One day when a film debuted that was so scary, so suspenseful and so intense, that some folks still won’t swim in the ocean because of this celluloid tale.

Happy “Jaws” day!

Fifty years ago, on June 20^th, 1975, the movie “Jaws” was released in more than 400 theaters in the United States.  And summer, at least summer at the movies, was never the same again. “Jaws” was the first true summer blockbuster, a film that took a bite out of the myth that no one goes to the movies in the warm summer months.  “Jaws” proved that given the right film, summer was a great time to release widely popular and widely profitable movies.

The summer “Jaws” came out I was 14 years old and just beginning my love affair with cinema. For $1.75 ($10.50 in today’s dollars) I could go to my local “Cinema 1 to Infinity” (14 screens actually) and for two blessed hours leave behind my awkward and sometimes very lonely adolescent life. It was my escape into reel life. Into movies that took me away, dropped me into some amazing or exotic or compelling fictional setting. In the case of “Jaws” I traveled to the  island of Amity. There a twenty-five-foot, three-ton great white shark terrorized the people of that place, and yes, the people in the movie theater too.

That summer I went to see “Jaws” five times and so was born one of my favorite summer pastimes. To go to as many movies as I can in the hot and humid days of June, July, and August.  To step out of the heat into the cool of a darkened theater, a tub of popcorn, slathered in butter, resting on my lap, and a large diet Coke in hand, in a cup covered with chilly drops of condensation. Then comes the scenes of coming attractions, even more movies for me to see! Finally, the main show. A superhero movie. A horror flick.  A rom com. An odd art house film. It doesn’t matter. I am omnivorous in my cinema outings.

To me, summer means movies. And I pray and hope that you have some summer love too, like me and my films.

Maybe it’s a summer sport or a summer hobby or a summer place or a summer ritual or a summer activity that warms your heart and celebrates these few months of abandon and cherished idleness and joy.  Most of us as adults can’t embrace an endless summer like we did as kids, but we can have our own special kind of fun these precious days.

So, return to a favorite ice cream stand and let that sweet concoction treat your tongue to a taste sensation. Return to an old ballpark and watch as folks “PLAY BALL!” on a muggy night.  Return to the same grey shingled cottage you visited as a child, and squish the sand in between your toes, and take a deep breath. Return to whomever, wherever, whatever feeds your summer soul.

Or…go to the movies! I’ll be in the fourth-row center, and there is always room for one more.

Happy summer!

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

        

     

  

Fifty Summers Ago and One Big Shark!

"You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”  --Chief Brody, from the 1975 film “Jaws”

Welcome to this, the first day of summer, June 20^th.  The day in the northern hemisphere when the earth’s tilt towards the sun is greatest, and when the arc of our sun moving across the sky is at its highest and longest. Counting today we have 95 days of summer left, three months, and three days. You could also argue the unofficial start of summer was actually Memorial Day and its unofficial end will be Labor Day, but let’s not quibble about the calendar.

Summer is absolutely here. It has arrived. Thank you God! Thank you Mother Earth! Thank you globe for finally changing your attitude and angle for these cherished few months.

But I’d like to propose that we also mark this day as one that forever changed the way that movies are made and seen and enjoyed by us.  One day when a film debuted that was so scary, so suspenseful and so intense, that some folks still won’t swim in the ocean because of this celluloid tale.

Happy “Jaws” day!

Fifty years ago, on June 20^th, 1975, the movie “Jaws” was released in more than 400 theaters in the United States.  And summer, at least summer at the movies, was never the same again. “Jaws” was the first true summer blockbuster, a film that took a bite out of the myth that no one goes to the movies in the warm summer months.  “Jaws” proved that given the right film, summer was a great time to release widely popular and widely profitable movies.

The summer “Jaws” came out I was 14 years old and just beginning my love affair with cinema. For $1.75 ($10.50 in today’s dollars) I could go to my local “Cinema 1 to Infinity” (14 screens actually) and for two blessed hours leave behind my awkward and sometimes very lonely adolescent life. It was my escape into reel life. Into movies that took me away, dropped me into some amazing or exotic or compelling fictional setting. In the case of “Jaws” I traveled to the  island of Amity. There a twenty-five-foot, three-ton great white shark terrorized the people of that place, and yes, the people in the movie theater too.

That summer I went to see “Jaws” five times and so was born one of my favorite summer pastimes. To go to as many movies as I can in the hot and humid days of June, July, and August.  To step out of the heat into the cool of a darkened theater, a tub of popcorn, slathered in butter, resting on my lap, and a large diet Coke in hand, in a cup covered with chilly drops of condensation. Then comes the scenes of coming attractions, even more movies for me to see! Finally, the main show. A superhero movie. A horror flick.  A rom com. An odd art house film. It doesn’t matter. I am omnivorous in my cinema outings.

To me, summer means movies. And I pray and hope that you have some summer love too, like me and my films.

Maybe it’s a summer sport or a summer hobby or a summer place or a summer ritual or a summer activity that warms your heart and celebrates these few months of abandon and cherished idleness and joy.  Most of us as adults can’t embrace an endless summer like we did as kids, but we can have our own special kind of fun these precious days.

So, return to a favorite ice cream stand and let that sweet concoction treat your tongue to a taste sensation. Return to an old ballpark and watch as folks “PLAY BALL!” on a muggy night.  Return to the same grey shingled cottage you visited as a child, and squish the sand in between your toes, and take a deep breath. Return to whomever, wherever, whatever feeds your summer soul.

Or…go to the movies! I’ll be in the fourth-row center, and there is always room for one more.

Happy summer!

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

        

     

  

Don't Give Up the Flag. Don't Give Up the Fight.

All of us ... should remember that no amount of flag-waving, pledging allegiance, or fervent singing of the national anthem is evidence that we are patriotic in the real sense of the word. ...[this]…is not the real measure of a man's patriotism.  --Eleanor Roosevelt

I’m an American flag kind of guy. I know that might sound corny, but that’s who I am and reflects a core belief of mine. The flag still means something and stands for timeless ideals and profound values.  

The flag I fly hangs from a flagpole attached to the front of my garage. On a breezy day, it flaps in the wind, sometimes opening up to its fullness, with its thirteen alternating red and white stripes for the original colonies, and a square in the upper left corner, deep blue background, with fifty white stars, one for each state.     

I fly it on and around Memorial Day, July 4^th, and Veterans Day. I fly it on election days too. My flag stands not just for support of our country but dissent too. That’s why I flew my flag upside down last November, post-election, to show my distress at the outcome and fear for the future of the country I love.

And yes, I always stand up with hand over heart at baseball games, cap off, as “The Star-Spangled Banner” plays and I sing the words, sometimes embarrassing my seat mate. I own the forty-eight star flag my father received as a gift from the men on a Navy ship that transported him home from service in the Korean War. Dad was rushing to return back to Boston to attend the funeral of his father who’d died very suddenly of a heart attack. Dad didn’t make it on time. That flag is very precious to me.

The flag’s meaning comes from what virtues it symbolizes. Service to country. Sacrifice for a cause greater than oneself. “Our flag was still there!” the national anthem proclaims. When our forebears fought against kings and tyrants, they refused to give in to tyranny.

The flag means very different things to different people.  Some even burn the flag in protest. That right to do so is actually protected free speech under the law . As Supreme Court Justice William Brennan wrote for the majority in the 1989 case Texas v. Johnson, “We do not consecrate the flag by punishing its desecration, for in doing so, we dilute the freedom this cherished emblem represents.”

We enjoy freedom so expansive that controversial, and unpopular speech is protected. The flag symbolizes that America is a nation of laws, based in the U.S. Constitution. We are not supposed to be a nation ruled by a Capitol storming mob or by any President who might suppose that he is the law unto himself. Laws must finally trump unchecked wannabee kings.

I pray and hope in 2025 that this cornerstone of democracy can still survive.

The flag belongs to every single American, no one left out. It belongs to those protesting the actions of United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in Los Angeles. It belongs to the police at those protests and National Guard women and men too. The flag belongs to the tens of thousands of Americans who will protest on June 14^th, in “No Kings” rallies across the United States. Even when the full rights symbolized in the flag were and still are denied to many people in the United States, still, it was and is their flag too.

Democracy declares the flag can’t be denied to anyone who calls our nation home.

There will be those who try to limit the flag’s “ownership” to their political party, narrow exclusive ideology, or only to those they judge as “true Americans.”  But such rhetoric is always false, the bellicose blustering of some power-hungry despot and his followers. Some wear a flag lapel pin and then use it as some kind of public posing, not so much to actually be patriotic but instead to practice what I’d call performative patriotism.  Anybody can chant “USA! USA!” and wrap themselves (sometimes literally) in the flag but real patriotism?

It is seen in what we do and how we live as Americans. Do we contribute to the common good? Pay our fair share of taxes? Volunteer in the community and for the military? Do we care for neighbors who struggle to care for themselves? To me those actions show real patriotism.

I will continue to fly the flag in all times, no matter who is in the Oval Office or in control of Congress. Politicians come and go, rise, and fall, but the flag, since 1777, has stayed and for that I am very thankful.

So, on this June 14^th, Flag Day, maybe each of us can consider, if but for a moment, what the flag means to us and what we can do to make our country a more just, merciful, and truly free land.

With no kings and no tyrants.  

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

      

  

   

What Is a Human Life Worth? To Some, Not Much.

“Yet what greater defeat could we suffer than to come to resemble the forces we oppose in their disrespect for human dignity?”  ― the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg

What is the worth of one human being? One solitary soul? Or one high school kid from Milford, Massachusetts?

Chemically speaking, if the elements of my body like sodium, calcium or carbon were somehow able to be harvested, according to a June 2024 estimate by Anne Marie Helminstine, Pd. D. I’m worth about $4.50.

Is that really what you or I are ultimately worth, less than the cost of a Starbucks Vente?

Another measure of my human worth could be determined by lost wages in the event of my negligent death. If I had died at 29, my careers’ start, a jury might calculate money lost to my loved ones as a little over $2 million.

That is much more but can one life really be calculated as being about dollars and cents?

Last Saturday black masked, camouflaged and gun toting agents of  U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) descended upon a vehicle full of teenagers on their way to volleyball practice.  They were members of a team at Milford High School, a town not far from where I write and live. Milford is known for its vibrant immigrant population and eighteen-year-old junior Marcelo Gomes Da Silva was driving his dad’s car that day.

How much is Marcelo’s one life worth?

Not very much, at least according to the brutal actions of ICE, who arrested the young man and brought him to a detention facility (let’s just call it a prison, ok?) where he is still being held. Then in a bizarre twist, Patricia Hyde, field director of ICE’s Enforcement and Removal Operations in Boston, said they were actually looking to arrest Marcelo’s dad, João Paulo Gomes Pereira.

Both son and father are undocumented, according to ICE and family friends.

But does that really provide any moral justification for their treatment as apparently “less than” human beings, “worth” much less than you or me, because, you see, they don’t have citizenship papers. No papers, no human worth, not really. No papers and Uncle Sam can snatch you off the streets, from your home or place of work, and now even from your school or church.

Son and father are not known criminals, or wanted by law enforcement, so they would seem to pose no threat to you or I or the community.  But in these dark days of the new administration’s crusade to rid the United States of anyone who is not a true blue American, anything goes. 

Did you hear about the 4-year-old U.S. citizen, suffering from cancer, who was forced to end his treatments here in the U.S. so he could be deported to Honduras with his undocumented mother? I guess he’s not worth that much either.

My faith tells me that our ultimate worth as human beings comes from being created by a loving God, who makes each of us in the divine image.  We are all children of God before any other title or label or condition.  I’m not claiming that the challenge of illegal immigration should just be ignored, no.

I am suggesting that there must, MUST, be a better way, a more dignified, merciful, systematic, transparent, and just way for our country to treat people like Marcelo.  He is a good young man, according to classmates and teachers alike, a dedicated student athlete, active in his church, trying to realize the promise of his young life. But now that is gone.             

What is a human being worth? A solitary soul like Marcelo?

Marcelo is absolutely worthy and worth it as a child of God, as are all guests from other nations who live among us. May God help them. May God help us to recognize their worth as human beings, our neighbors, and fellow children of God.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

   

They Did Their Part for America. Could We? Will We?

"In some way, suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds meaning, such as the meaning of sacrifice.”  --Victor Frankl, "Man's Search for Meaning”

It’s the first and only time I ever saw my late father cry. 

Like many men of his generation, the so-called “silent generation” my dad was not one for big emotions, or public displays of feelings. But one night, when I was home on college break and both of us shared the family room, I flipped through the TV channels and came upon an old World War II movie, 1944’s “The Fighting Sullivans” and so we settled in to watch.

And then we had our hearts broken by that true wartime story.

The “Fighting Sullivans” were the Sullivan brothers, five siblings who hailed from Waterloo, Iowa.  In January of 1942, George, Francis, Joseph, Madison and Albert, the sons of Thomas and Aleta Sullivan, signed up or re-upped, to serve in the United States Navy. It was a little more than a month after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Patriotism and the commitment to serve your country had captured the hearts of the nation. 

The Sullivans enlisted with one stipulation: that they be allowed to serve together on the same ship. The Navy had a policy against such groupings, but it was not always enforced and so they were assigned to the U.S.S. Juneau, a light cruiser. On November 13, 1942, during the battle of Guadalcanal in the South Pacific, the Juneau was struck by two enemy torpedoes, exploding, and then sinking the ship.

Six-hundred and eighty-seven men died. Ten survived. The Sullivan brothers all perished.

In my home I have several framed original World War II propaganda posters, which hung from 1941 to 1945, in factories, town halls, post offices, train stations and other public settings. The United States government used those placards to try and inspire the citizenry to do their part and support the war effort. 

The poster I most cherish depicts those five brothers, posing shoulder to shoulder, dressed in Navy garb, smiling the smiles of optimistic youth. Above them is a line of blue stars, symbols that families hung in their windows to denote that members of a household had died in battle. Underneath the photo is this challenge: “…the five Sullivan brothers, ‘missing in action’ off the Solomons” and then in bold print below, “THEY DID THEIR PART.”

They did their part.

That poster reminds me that there have been times in our nation’s history when the greatest of sacrifices was asked of American citizens, like the Sullivans. There was a time when millions of Americans laid aside their own wants and needs, gave up the normalcy of everyday life, to serve. There was a time when our nation was led by a President, who in word and deed, called forth the best in people to do one’s part. Not just as soldiers, but as civilians working in wartime factories. Participating in wartime drives to collect scrap metal. Growing a victory garden. Buying a war bond. 

So, so many actually did their part.

Which makes me wonder…in 2025, could we do our part in such a national effort? Do we as Americans still have the civic DNA to embrace the responsibilities each of us have as citizens? Could we sacrifice to defend the values we’ve claimed as American, what many of us still believe in as Americans?

Freedom. Duty. Honor. Service. Courage. Selflessness

I so want to believe there is still the spirit of the Sullivans in our nation, the spirit of all who served and sacrificed before. Yes, we as a nation sometimes fail to live up to the highest of our national aspirations. We fall short of our ideals.  But we still must have those aspirational values and virtues to stretch towards. 

My faith certainly teaches me that sacrifice and service are at the heart of any life we dare to call a “good life.” As Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13)

And yet, are we more focused on what we can get as citizens or what we can give in support of the greater good? Are we kind towards Americans of all ideologies, colors and faiths or do we see some as “not really American?” Are we generous in our welcome to native and foreigners alike, or do we wish to just shut the door? Are we led by politicians who respect the military? Or are we led by some who mock military service while never even having served themselves?

My God: I pray, and I hope on this Memorial Day weekend and beyond, that we can still do our part, each of us, collectively too. Do our part: as neighbors, Americans, and heirs of this land we call home.   

They did their part. Now we must learn again how to do the same.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.