I vividly remember my sixteenth Christmas. Like most 16-year-olds of my generation, I couldn’t wait to drive and experience the independence and freedom that owning a car would bestow on me. Because my family was of modest means, I was not expecting a shiny new sports car. I was only wishing for a car, any car. 

When Christmas morning finally arrived, I bounded downstairs with eager anticipation, hoping to see a car in the driveway. 

Nothing. 

I was not utterly surprised, but I was profoundly disappointed. 

Once everyone was downstairs and my parents had retrieved their badly needed cup of coffee, a prerequisite to opening presents, we proceeded with the Christmas ritual. After opening our gifts, I found myself, like Ralphie in A Christmas Story, appreciative of the presents I’d received but feeling a twinge of guilty disappointment deep within. I knew getting a car for Christmas was a long shot, but, as Alexander Pope wrote in An Essay on Man, “Hope springs eternal in the human breast.”1

While everyone inhaled warm, delightfully decadent cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven and excitedly examined their new treasures, my father called to me. He pointed to a small box obscured by the thick Christmas tree skirt. “Barrett, it looks like we missed one. Go get it and see whose it is.” Assuming it was a small gift for one of my younger siblings, I rose slowly and meandered to the tree to retrieve the box. To my surprise, it was for me. Having abandoned the hope that a car was in the offing for Christmas, I opened it with nonchalant appreciation.

Keys! 

Words matter a lot. Words matter because they carry meaning and value and mold individual and cultural behavior. Words reflect and shape worldviews.

The clearest way to see through a culture is to attend to its tools for conversation … one must begin, I think, by pointing to the obvious fact that the written word … has a content … whenever language is the principal medium of communication—an idea, a fact, a claim is the inevitable result. The idea may be banal, the fact irrelevant, the claim false, but there is no escape from meaning when language is the instrument guiding one’s thought ... words have very little to recommend them except as carriers of meaning.⁠

When we change words, we change meaning. When we change meaning, we change thinking. When we change thinking, we change worldviews and values. And, when we change worldviews and values, we change cultures. This is why English author Edward Bulwer-Lytton  proclaimed, "The pen is mightier than the sword."⁠

The presidents of the University of Pennsylvania, MIT, and Harvard ignited a firestorm after dodging a simple question by Rep. Elise Stefanik, R-N.Y., who asked whether "calling for the genocide of Jews" would violate each school's code of conduct. Liz Magill, President of the University of Pennsylvania, responded, "It is a context-dependent decision." Harvard's president responded similarly. Liz Magill resigned after harsh bipartisan condemnation, blowback from alumni, and the loss of tens of millions of dollars in donations. Subsequently, NBC News reported1 that in a December 6, 2023, video posted on X (formerly Twitter), Magill sought to apologize and explain her answer:

I was not focused on, but I should have been, the irrefutable fact that a call for genocide of Jewish people is a call for some of the most terrible violence human beings can perpetrate … I got caught up in what had become, at that point, an extended, combative exchange about policies and procedures … I failed to convey what is my truth [emphasis added].

"My Truth"

There is much to condemn in the testimony of the Ivy League presidents, not the least of which is their spineless moral equivocation. But, I want to focus on just two words in Liz Magill's video, "my truth."

While trouble in this life is inescapable, we can escape the crucible of excessive worry and anxiety. This is why Jesus said, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Notice that Jesus said we could have peace in the midst of our troubles. God never promised us a life that was a “rose garden.” While I don’t endorse the entire worldview reflected in Lynn Anderson’s song, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden (listen here) there is an element of truth in her lyrics: “I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden. Along with the sunshine, there’s gotta be a little rain sometime.

Recording personal reflections is a discipline I have worked to develop over the years. I believe knowing where I’ve come from helps inform where and how I move forward.

This past year, I was blessed to pray for, plan, and oversee a multi-generational family dinner. I arrived early to provide ample time to speak with our server regarding the bill. I planned to cover the meal’s cost, and I wanted as little mention of it as possible not to take away from the dining experience. A final yet crucial consideration was getting my hands on a copy of the menu.

As I watched family members arrive and catch up, I couldn’t help but anticipate the evening ahead. My guidelines were simple: be present, share stories, order dessert first,

In the Summer of 2008, I attended the opening ceremonies for a new hockey arena named after my late father. The 1960s era “Teeder Kennedy Arena” was about to be replaced by a beautiful multi-purpose sports complex and I was there representing the Kennedy family.  As a highlight of the dedicatory programme, the master of ceremonies walked cautiously to centre of the rink and solemnly poured a bottle of water on the ice. His voice boomed through the state-of-the-art PA system, “This is an offering to the hockey gods!”

We continue slouching towards Gomorrah [emphasis added]. We are well along the road to the moral chaos that is the end of radical individualism and the tyranny that is the goal of radical egalitarianism. Modern liberalism has corrupted our culture across the board. The imperative question is whether there is any possibility of avoiding the condition of Gomorrah. What can halt or reverse the march of modern liberalism? What can keep us from reaching a servile condition punctuated by spasms of violence and eroticism?

We are no longer slouching towards Gomorrah. We have arrived.

Consider our moral decent as reflected in the two photographs below. The first shows a nation that is unashamed of its Christian heritage. The second depicts a nation rejecting that heritage and, in its place, the proud promotion of perversion.