Among those who receive this newsletter, I suspect there’s a wide range of opinions on Ben Sasse the politician, from “love him” to “hate him” to “never heard of him.” And I’m good with that.

What I hope we can all agree upon is that there are some things to learn from Ben Sasse the human being – particularly as he wrestles with his own mortality in the face of a Stage 4 pancreatic cancer diagnosis. 

For those unfamiliar, a bit on his background: 

• BA from Harvard

• PhD from Yale

• Two-term U.S. Senator from Nebraska

• Two-time New York Times bestselling author

• College president (most recently at the University of Florida)

By almost any measure, that’s a consequential life.

And yet, if you listen to his recent interviews, you won’t find him rehearsing accomplishments or relitigating political battles. Instead, he keeps returning to three themes: thicker community, better loves, and his ultimate hope.

Thicker community. 

By this, he means deep, embodied relationships – the people with whom we share sacrifices, responsibilities, and long-term commitments. Those who truly know us, and whom we truly know.

He has spent much of his adult life investing in initiatives with national scope. Yet when it’s all said and done, he believes that our local communities – churches, neighborhoods, and civic groups – are what matter most.

I’m taking note of that.

Better loves. 

As outlined above, Ben has accomplished a great deal. But it came at a cost, particularly to his family. His greatest regret, he says, is the extended time he spent working and traveling in his 20s and 30s while his kids were young.

As his days shorten, his love for his wife and children clearly outweighs any attachment to cause, institution, or agenda. In fact, the primary prayer request he’s circulated since his diagnosis is simple: that he would be a good husband and father in his waning days.

I’m taking note of that. 

His ultimate hope. 

Drawing from his Christian tradition, he describes death as the “Last Enemy.” The bad news is that death is indeed an enemy – and a nasty one at that. The good news is that it will be the last enemy he ever has to face.

He seems to be embracing his earthly pilgrimage for as long as it lasts, while also looking forward to returning Home, where tears and pain and death shall be no more. 

I’m taking note of that. 

A poem for fellow travelers

It seemed fitting to close with a few lines from “Ring Out, Wild Bells” by Alfred Lord Tennyson. I recently learned it’s a favorite of Ben’’s and a source of comfort for him in these final days.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
  The flying cloud, the frosty light:
  The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
  Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
  The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
  For those that here we see no more;
  Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
  The civic slander and the spite;
  Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
  The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
  Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Carry on fellow travelers, we’ll talk soon!