As July 4 approaches, I’ve been thinking about a new tradition in our community, and in my family.
Last year on Independence Day, outside the historic Buckman Tavern, volunteers lined up, one by one, to read a section of the Declaration of Independence. The event is happening again this year, and I expect it will become an annual tradition. We adopted the practice at our family celebration, passing the text from person to person, reading each section to directly honor and reflect on the real purpose of this holiday.
There is something powerful about hearing these opening words spoken aloud: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”
These words spurred American biographer Walter Isaacson to write the book, The Greatest Sentence Ever Written, and for good reason. In a single line, it articulates a radical claim: that human dignity, equality, and fundamental rights are not granted by government — they are inherent.
As I’ve returned to this text over the past year — reading it with my family, with colleagues at our team retreat, and reflecting on it while traveling across the country — I’ve been struck by how urgently it still speaks to this moment.
When we celebrate July 4, we often talk about uniquely American values that we tie back to our democracy. But the Declaration reminds us that America’s founding promise runs even deeper. Before structures of governance, before elections or institutions, there was an idea: that equity and justice matter — that every person deserves dignity, liberty, and opportunity, and that when they are at risk, it is our obligation to fight to preserve those rights.
This reflection feels especially personal because we live in Lexington, Massachusetts, the birthplace of the American Revolution. Last year marked the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Lexington, a milestone that brought our community together to reflect on both our history and our future.
As part of that commemoration, the National Conference on Citizenship, a nonprofit organization I lead, was proud to help sponsor a naturalization ceremony on the Battle Green — the first in that historic space. Welcoming new citizens in a place so central to America’s origin story was profoundly moving.
In remarks I shared at that ceremony, I spoke about how citizenship means much more than the legal rights we have. It is a responsibility — to do our part to continue the fight to ensure our rights are preserved by actively engaging, connecting with our communities, and working together to help write the next chapter of our shared American story.
Citizenship is not passive. It asks something of us.
- It asks us to stay informed
- To care for our communities
- To show up for one another
- To protect one another’s rights
- To remain curious about people whose experiences differ from our own
- And to keep working toward a country that better reflects its highest ideals
This July 4, I plan to make space for deep reflection and invite you to join me in considering these questions:
- What does citizenship ask of each of us at this moment?
- What would it look like to more fully realize the promise of that opening declaration?
- And how might we help ensure that America’s founding ideals — liberty, justice, equality, and belonging — are not merely inherited, but actively renewed?
The work of citizenship belongs to all of us. And perhaps that is what Independence Day invites us to remember most.
In community,
Cameron Hickey
CEO, National Conference on Citizenship and LexObserver board member