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Over this past week, I have been challenged to come to grips with the election results. Instead of stewing and ruminating, I needed to find something to be hopeful about. It first came as a letter written 54 years ago by cartoonist Charles Schulz in response to a 10-year-old boy. 

In 1970, a young student named Joel Lipton wrote to Charles Schulz, the beloved creator of Peanuts, asking a profound question: “What makes a good citizen?” Schulz’s response is a powerful testament to the enduring principles of democracy and compassion that remain as relevant today as they were over five decades ago.

Schulz began by acknowledging the complexity of citizenship in turbulent times:

I think it is more difficult these days to define what makes a good citizen than it has ever been before. Certainly all any of us can do is follow our own conscience and retain faith in our democracy.

His letter highlights two critical aspects of being a good citizen:

1. Personal Integrity: Following one’s conscience
2. Democratic Faith: Maintaining belief in democratic principles

Schulz offered a particularly striking observation that resonates powerfully today:

Sometimes it is the very people who cry out the loudest in favor of getting back to what they call ‘American Virtues’ who lack this faith in our country.

Perhaps most profound was Schulz’s core belief:

I believe that our greatest strength lies always in the protection of our smallest minorities.

This brief, but profound letter, is a cogent reminder that being a good citizen isn’t about loud proclamations or superficial patriotism. It’s about:

• Listening to your conscience
• Protecting the most vulnerable
• Maintaining faith in democratic ideals
• Showing genuine respect for all people

As we navigate this complex world, Schulz’s words continue to inspire. They challenge us to look beyond rhetoric and truly embody the principles of compassion, understanding, and democratic values. Let’s remember to ask ourselves: What does it truly mean to be a good citizen? 

As I close this chapter on grieving what could have been, I also found solace in Amanda Gorman’s stirring poem “The Hill We Climb,” recited at the presidential inauguration on January 20, 2021.  Though separated by half a century, both Schulz and Gorman articulate a vision of America rooted in unity, resilience, and hope in the face of challenges to our democratic ideals. Their words are reminders to:

• Engage respectfully with those who challenge your views
• Protect and amplify marginalized voices
• Maintain faith in democratic processes, even when they’re tested
• Follow your conscience and stand up for your beliefs
• Recognize that our diversity is a source of strength, not division

In the current climate, these principles are more crucial than ever. The challenge is to move beyond partisan rhetoric and embody the compassion, understanding, and democratic values that strengthen our society.

As we navigate the complexities of modern citizenship, being a good citizen isn’t about blind patriotism or adherence to a single set of “virtues.” Instead, it’s about actively participating in our democracy, protecting the rights of all, and working together to build a more just and inclusive society. In doing so, we honor the wisdom of voices like Schulz and Gorman and contribute to the ongoing work of climbing that hill together. 

For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.

If only we’re brave enough to be it. – ©Amanda Gorman

When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry. A sea we must wade.

We braved the belly of the beast.

We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace, and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.

And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

Somehow we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.

And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge our union with purpose.

To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.

And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.

We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.

That even as we grieved, we grew.

That even as we hurt, we hoped.

That even as we tired, we tried.

That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.

Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid.

If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made.

That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare.

It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit.

It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.

We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation, rather than share it.

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.

And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth, in this faith we trust, for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption.

We feared at its inception.

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour.

But within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.

So, while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be: a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, become the future.

Our blunders become their burdens.

But one thing is certain.

If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.

Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the golden hills of the West.

We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.

We will rise from the sun-baked South.

We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.

And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.

When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid.

The new dawn blooms as we free it.

For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.

If only we’re brave enough to be it.” – ©Amanda Gorman