“The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen United States of America,” Ever’s dad would begin in his annual July 4th reading of the Declaration of Independence. The kids would gather around knowing that, within moments, their dad would be choking up with emotion. As ever, Han Holbein’s portrait of St. Thomas More, whose memorial we mark on June 22, would look on with a penetrating gaze from the living room wall.

More’s presence may not dominate your own childhood memories, but his memorial—and July 4^th—nevertheless offer a fitting moment to reflect on the civic health of our family culture. And as we reflect on this important aspect of family culture, maybe it’s also time to hit reset—in order that we might pass along to our children a tangible sense of gratitude for our country and for religious liberty.

St. Thomas More’s life was nothing short of stunning. What didn’t he do? Perhaps the definition of a Renaissance man, he was a brilliant attorney and statesman, a loving husband and father, author, poet, linguist, philosopher, jurist, a loyal servant of the crown, and he even had a famous wit. But it was the culmination of More’s life—his martyrdom—that we reflect upon at this time.

To quote another Englishman, Winston Churchill, “To each there comes in their lifetime a special moment when they are figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a very special thing, unique to them and fitted to their talents. What a tragedy if that moment finds them unprepared or unqualified for that which could have been their finest hour.”

On July 6, 1535, life tapped More on the shoulder and asked him a question: would he affirm the king’s lie that would in turn split the Church? St. Thomas More answered simply and courageously: “I die the king’s faithful servant, but God’s first.”

The 20^th century saw more religious persecution and Christian martyrdoms than any other century to date. And those powerful taps on the shoulder—with discomfiting questions about the practice of the faith—continue today. However that moment may arrive for us, the more important thing is to prepare our families today—through quiet, daily affirmations of the priority of our faith.

Perhaps the question for us today—and in the time near July 4^th—is this: how are we imbuing our family culture with both a love of country and an awareness of the importance of religious liberty? Every family has its own patriotic traditions. Maybe it’s the flag out front, a portrait of Washington hanging inside, making care packages for the deployed, or bringing flowers to the graves of veterans.

For Ever’s dad, patriotism and religious liberty went hand-in-hand—the annual recitation of the Declaration of Independence under the watchful gaze of St. Thomas More invested the family with a powerful anchor. In Soren’s family, his parents often took advantage of the dinner table to talk about politics, religious liberty, and patriotism.

Holbein also sketched St. Thomas More with his family. They’re all spread out in the living room, enjoying each others’ company. His love of God and love of country must have been tangible to his family in so many little, daily ways. When life tapped him on the shoulder, he was ready because he had been preparing for so many years.

“As the family goes,” St. John Paul II said, “so goes the nation, and so goes the whole world in which we live.” If this is true, then it follows that the future of our nation and our religious liberty is deeply intertwined with what happens in our own living rooms and dinner tables. Inspired by the witness of St. Thomas More, may we renew our efforts to be faithful servants of our country, but God’s first.