“True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost.” – Arthur Ashe
I got to meet my greatest hero in person. Up close. I even talked to him.
It was the summer of 1994. I was one of more than 1,500 volunteers from all over the world to descend upon the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation, in Eagle Butte, South Dakota, home to more than 8,000 Native Americans. Our collective job that August week was both inspiring and practical. In just seven days we’d come together to build thirty homes for people in need in that part of the country. People whose housing was often substandard. Had big cracks in the wall that allowed chilly Dakota winter winds to blow in. It was housing for families who still used an outhouse in the backyard. Our work was about empowering folks to work on their future homes side by side with volunteers, and at the end of the week, to receive the keys for that new home and an affordable mortgage, at zero percent interest.
If you haven’t guessed yet, ours’ was a Habitat for Humanity project, a blitz-build as it was rightfully called. You have to blitz in order to start with thirty foundation holes in the ground on Sunday afternoon and then people washing dishes in their new homes the following Saturday night. As an enthusiastic Habitat volunteer, before that summer I’d worked on homes throughout the world, everywhere from Guatemala, to New York City, to Hartford, Connecticut.
I was drawn to Habitat because it was begun in 1976 as a Christian ministry. It challenged folks of faith like me to actually put our beliefs to work, to not just profess God’s love but to build it up in the world, in homes, for God’s people in need. From a modest beginning, Habitat is now in 70 countries, all fifty American states and changed for the good the housing hopes of almost 40 million people worldwide.
But what really drew me almost thirty years ago to the small plains town of Eagle Butte was the example and the witness of just one couple, Habitat’s most famous volunteers, former President Jimmy Carter, and his wife Rosalyn. The blitz build was actually called the Jimmy Carter Blitz Build. Carter lent his name and promotion to the work and it helped so much to recruit volunteers like me and to raise the money needed to construct all those houses.
Carter walked the walk of faith in action, did not just talk about helping others. Every day on the worksite I’d walk by the porch that formed the front of a modest two story three bedroom house. That porch’s construction was Carter’s sole territory and project. He’d politely but clearly asked all of us to allow him to work and for us to get to work too, and so we did, never interrupting him as he sawed and hammered and measured and nailed, with quiet precision and focus. But I still could not at least think when I walked by him: “That’s Jimmy Carter!”
He was my hero then and now because he showed me the power of a committed faith to change the world for the good. He showed me the power of humility. He stood in line for a bologna sandwich like the rest of us and got sawdust in his hair and dirt on his work shoes just like everybody else. On the last day I finally got to speak to him and see that big toothy smile up close. Carter and his wife shook each of our hands and thanked us, asked where we were from, and then embraced the new homeowners, giving them a bible and their keys.
And yes, we all cried tears of joy.
This week the 98 year old Carter went into hospice by his own choosing, perhaps the final dignified and courageous act by one of the most decent, kind, and honorable people our country has ever claimed as President. A Nobel Peace Prize winner, Carter built houses and was committed to building a better world too. When I think of some of the blowhards and the empty suits and the self-serving politicians who now pass themselves off as political “leaders” I cringe. They should look to a man like Carter to really understand what it means to serve others and what it means to serve the people.
He wasn’t perfect. No real hero ever is. His Presidency and its effectiveness are still hotly debated. But of all the Presidents who have served in my lifetime, he is the one I admire the most. He is and will always be my hero. He is the one who in the days to come will die in the original simple ranch house that he built and then lived in with Rosalyn, for almost all of his adult life. He was born in a small rural town and will die there too. When President Carter finally passes on and makes his way to the next life, to the eternal life my tradition believes in, I imagine the residents of heaven breaking into a standing ovation to meet him.
How else to welcome such good man? A hero to so many. A man of faith and action. And a real-life hero I got to meet and to build with, one amazing hot August week a generation ago.
Thank you, President Carter. As your teacher might say in welcoming you home, “Well done good and faithful servant.”
Well done, Jimmy. Godspeed.
