A forward to today’s commentary–

The death of Pope Francis is a reminder of the kind of ethical leadership the world too often lacks and desperately needs. Compassion without justice is sentiment. Mercy without accountability is empty. Francis didn’t just talk about the poor he challenged the economic systems that left them behind. He called environmental care a moral responsibility. And he didn’t avoid uncomfortable truths.

“I feel deep pain,” He wrote, “ for the abuses committed and for the inadequate way in which they were handled.” It wasn’t a press release. It was a call to conscience.

And in one simple sentence: “If someone is gay and he searches for the Lord and has good will, who am I to judge?” He reminded the world that respect, dignity, and inclusion aren’t political statements. They’re ethical imperatives.

Francis challenged all of us to think and act with integrity and we are all the better for his example.

* * *

“Hope’s interesting, isn’t it? I can’t turn hope off, it’s hopeless.”—Jeff Bridges

With all the finger-pointing, distrust, and exhaustion running through the country, what we need now is a reminder. A reminder of what’s worth holding onto. Of what we still share. Of the values we still hold. This is a message of hope—

We’ve been here before: divided, disillusioned, and unsure if we could hold together. But when we’ve been tested, we’ve always found a way. What carried us through wasn’t slogans or party lines. It was something deeper: a belief in the values that bind us together.

That belief has been challenged by civil war, economic collapse, and injustice. And yet, in our hardest moments, we’ve shown our best.

During the Great Depression, neighbors stood in bread lines together, and communities pooled what little they had to help one another. In the 1960s, civil rights activists marched arm in arm to bring us closer to our founding promise: a government of, by, and for the people—built on the idea that liberty and justice are not just ideals, but obligations.

After 9/11, we paused—not in fear, but in solidarity. As we have in the past, We lit candles. We raised flags. We saw past politics. We evolved alongside cultural change and …. remembered that we’re still neighbors.

We haven’t always agreed. We never will. But this country has never been about unanimous consent—it’s been about shared effort. A commitment to something larger than ourselves.

Lately, that spirit feels like it’s slipping. Too often, we trade trust for suspicion. We talk past each other, or not at all. Outrage has become a reflex. Compromise, a casualty. But the truth is: nothing gets better unless we choose to make it better.

The good news is, we’ve been here before, and we’ve come through. We can do it again, when we summon the courage to face hard truths, the clarity to see what matters, and the conviction that what we build next can be stronger, wiser, and more honest than what came before.

I’m not walking away from the hard issues. I won’t stop calling out what I believe is wrong—from injustice to indifference. I aim to speak with clarity about the responsibility we all share in shaping what comes next.

We need to start thinking for ourselves again—not just reacting to the loudest voices or following the path of least resistance. That begins with integrity. Not just in public life, but in how we live each day. Integrity in how we speak, how we listen, and how we treat those we disagree with. It means standing up for what’s right—even when it’s inconvenient. It’s not always easy. But it’s always right.

If we want to believe in America again, we have to believe in our own ability to do the right thing. Consistently and together.

Because this isn’t just about politics. It’s about character. And character, still, is what defines us.

This is my message of hope. I hope it’s one we can share.