Rabbi Charles E. Savenor is the Executive Director of Civic Spirit, a national organization that provides training in civic education in Jewish, Catholic, Christian, and Islamic day schools.
With more American troops desperately needed to fight in Europe during World War II, the SS Dorchester left New York on January 23, 1943. Formerly a civilian ship, the Dorchester - like the 900 men onboard - was recruited for military service.
During the early morning hours of February 3rd, the German submarine U-223 fired on the Dorchester off Newfoundland. Exploding in the boiler room, this missile cut off the electricity and released thick clouds of gas and steam all over the ship. The immediate aftermath of the damage disoriented those onboard and paralyzed many with fear, thereby impeding their ability to head to the lifeboats. In fact, only two of the fourteen lifeboats were successfully utilized as soldiers and crew were directed to abandon ship. Many soldiers jumped into the freezing water and waited for rescue.
Along with the soldiers on the Dorchester were four military chaplains - a Catholic, a Jew, and two Protestants. Each embraced different faiths, yet they were united in their desire to serve their country. “The Four Chaplains” - George L. Fox, John P. Washington, Alexander D. Goode, and Clarke V. Poling – were all inspired by the attack at Pearl Harbor to enlist.
When the ship was attacked, these chaplains worked together to assuage the fears of those onboard and guide the men to safety, primarily to the lifeboats. In the smoky chaos aboard the Dorchester, countless men did not have their life jackets, forgetting them below deck. To address this obstacle, these clergymen found more and distributed them swiftly. When this supply of life jackets ran out, the four chaplains did not hesitate to take off theirs and give them away. We can only imagine that they grasped the implication of their actions.
As the Dorchester sank into the ocean, soldiers watched from afar as the four chaplains sat shoulder to shoulder and recited prayers. These four men could have made their way to safety, but chose to go down with the ship and the souls whom they pledged to protect, comfort, and inspire.
Nearly 700 people died in this deadly attack, regarded as one of the worst at-sea tragedies during the war. Each life taken - then and now - is a tragedy. And yet, the story of the four chaplains has been lifted up decade after decade because of their selfless bravery and unflinching commitment to God, country, and humanity.
The actions and attitude of the four chaplains reflect the highest values of civic education. The field of civics unfortunately took a back seat in American schools for the past few decades, which may help us understand why the story of the SS Dorchester resonates so deeply.
At a moment of deep division and polarization in America, Chaplains Fox, Washington, Goode, and Poling are more than fallen heroes in battle. Their selfless embrace of our shared civic responsibilities reminds us of the powerful potential within ourselves as stewards of our democracy.
Eighty years later, the four chaplains continue to inspire. Will we heed their call?
A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.