Last time in these pages, I mentioned Jonathan Winthrop’s “city on a hill” sermon, “that all the eyes of all people are upon us.” Winthrop considered himself a type of Moses who was leading his people, like Israel, to a new land, to build a new Jerusalem.

This is spelled out in John Barry’s 2012 book, “Roger Williams and the Creation of the American Soul: Church, State, and the Birth of Liberty.”

Winthrop and his fellow Puritans believed the city on a hill should have a church and a state, and that the two should work together, like left and right hands. In essence, Winthrop wanted to build a theocracy, in New England, in 1630.

The Puritans expected the magistrates to support the church by compelling people to attend worship, to recite oaths, to pray prescribed prayers, and to tithe.

Those who refused to obey their laws paid fines, were jailed, were locked into stocks, suffered the loss of their ears, were banished back to England, or were hung.

In turn, the clergymen were expected to support the magistrates by providing Biblical justification for dispensing punishment, and by confirming the magistrates’ edicts.

John Barry pointed out that one early Puritan to Boston disagreed with this well-oiled theocratic machine, and that was Roger Williams, an Anglican clergyman, who argued for a freer, more liberated, society.

Roger insisted that a wall should separate church from state, creating two spheres of authority, and that one sphere should not overlap or support the other.

Roger’s view was unique in Massachusetts, in England, in the entire world.

He arrived in Boston in 1631, and right away he stirred up controversy. The Puritans heard him out, but they thought his idea dangerous, that their plantation would fail if they implemented his idea.

He told his fellow Puritans that their government has no authority over the first four Ten Commandments, what he called the First Tablet: no other gods, no graven images, no swearing of oaths, no compelling attendance at worship on a Sabbath.

Those four commandments were private, between God and a man or a woman.

Roger explained that he believed that the state did have authority over the last six, the Second Tablet, because those pertain to human beings’ relationships with others.

Winthrop, the magistrates, and the clergyman in Boston could make no sense of this. Why, they wondered, would he divide the Ten Commandments into two tablets, and expect obedience to the second, but not the first.

Roger urged Massachusetts toward religious freedom, to a free conscience, where all can believe what they want and speak what they believe, without state interference.

A twentieth-century colonial American historian Perry Miller said that Roger Williams is “always there to remind Americans [to] no other conclusion but absolute religious freedom was feasible in this society.”

Out of fear of a loss of their power, the magistrates disagreed, brought Roger to a trial in October of 1635, and voted to banish him from Massachusetts. He fled into the wilderness in January of 1636, and alongside the Narragansett Bay began a new colony.

Rhode Island’s government implemented Roger’s idea, wrote freedom of conscience into its charter. Members of other religious faiths heard the welcome news and poured into the colony: Catholics, atheists, Quakers, Jews, Baptists, and others.

Roger welcomed them all. He disagreed with their religious faith, especially the Quakers, but he permitted them to worship as they wanted in Rhode Island, with no harassment or persecution from Rhode Island’s state government.

John Barry wrote, that then Rhode Island was the freest society in the known world.

In recent days, I have begun reading John Barry’s book, “Roger Williams and the Creation of the American Soul: Church, State, and the Birth of Liberty.”

Although published in 2012, Barry tells the story of how the Puritans chose to leave old England to build a plantation on the rocky New England coast of Massachusetts.

In England, the Puritans wanted to purify and simplify their church. Hence, the title of Puritans. They wanted a rustic sanctuary, without stained glass windows and gaudy artwork. Also, they wanted the Anglican clerics to dress without cassock, cap, or gown.

King James I, his son Charles I, and Charles’s archbishop William Laud disagreed. Laud and his henchmen hunted the Puritans down, jailed them, and even tortured them. For these Puritans, exile to North American represented a better choice.

The Puritans formed a corporation, the Massachusetts Bay Company, for the purpose of planning for and constructing a plantation in New England.

On March 4, 1629, King Charles granted the company a royal charter. That same summer the company sent an advance party of five ships carrying 350 settlers to Salem.

In October of 1629, the Massachusetts Bay Company’s stockholders voted to elect Jonathan Winthrop as the corporation’s governor. He fixed a future date of March 1, 1630, for his and his one thousand fellow Puritans’ departure from England.

The planning was monumental. Barry wrote, “It was an immense task, suffocating in detail.” Winthrop hired a fleet of eleven ships, including his ship, the “Arabela.”

Winthrop ordered “14,700 brown biscuits, 5300 white biscuits, 30 hogsheads of beef, 6 hogsheads of pork, 200 tongues; a number of kettles, pans, ladles, ploughs, hoes, and seeds; plus cattle, horses, dogs, goats, pigs, sheep; muskets, pikes, drums, and colors.”

“Everything England society had, New England needed.”

About March 1, people began arriving in Southampton, a port city. Most planned to sail to America, but friends and family members showed up to bid them good-bye. They knew that once they boarded a ship, they may not return, and never see England again.

To this host of people, in mid-March, first the Reverend John Cotton preached on 2 Samuel 7:10, and then nearly the same day, Governor Jonathon Winthrop delivered a sermon that he entitled, “A Modell of Christian Charitie.”

Winthrop insisted that the Puritans love one another. To them, he said, “We must delight in each other, make others’ conditions our own, rejoice together, mourn together, labor and suffer together.” He expected them to practice justice and mercy.

But Winthrop’s most often quoted phrase contained the words, “for we must consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill; the eyes of all people are upon us.”

On January 9, 1961, President-elect John F. Kennedy said, “I have been guided by the standard John Winthrop set before his shipmates on the flagship ‘Arabela’ 351 years ago, as they, too, faced the task of building a new government on a perilous frontier.”

On November 3, 1980, before the election, Ronald Reagan said, “I have quoted John Winthrop’s words more than once on the campaign trail, for I believe that Americans in 1980 see that vision of a shining city on a hill, as did those long-ago settlers.”

In 2006, Barack Obama mentioned Winthrop’s speech in a commencement address.

In 1999, the “New York Times Magazine” asked Peter J. Gomes, a Harvard preacher, to select the best sermon of the previous millennium, and he chose Winthrop’s sermon.

Gomes called it “the most enduring metaphor of the American experience, that of the exemplary nation called to virtue and mutual support.”

Some would agree that America represents the best that the world offers, and that others watch us and follow our lead. Right or wrong, Winthrop’s sermon created an ideal that Americans ever since have tried to practice.

On February 17, 2023, David Remnick of the New Yorker podcast interviewed Steven Kotkin, history professor at Stanford, and biographer of Joseph Stalin.

Kotkin said, “Let’s think of a house with ten rooms, and let’s say I barge in and take two of those rooms. I wreck those two rooms, and I also wreck your other eight rooms. You try to evict me, but I’m still there wrecking your entire house.

“You need your house. That’s where you live. You don’t have another house. Me, I’ve got another house, and my house has a thousand rooms. So, if I wreck your house, are you winning, or am I winning?”

On Friday, February 24, 2022, the world marked the one-year anniversary of Vladimir Putin’s invasion into Ukraine, in order, he said, “to de-militarize and de-Nazify Ukraine,” an inadequate or invalid reason, if not sheer propaganda.

Some argue that Putin’s true reasons were that he wanted to re-establish the old Soviet Union, or that he wanted to seize more land, or that he was terrified of a united Ukraine joining the European Union.

Whatever his reasons, Putin’s “special military operation” has turned into a tragedy.

Staggering for the Russians is the heavy loss of military equipment: 299 aircraft, 288 helicopters, 3381 tanks, 6615 armored combat vehicles, 5242 vehicles and fuel tankers, and 2037 tactical unmanned aircraft.

Yet, more tragic are the Russian army’s casualties: 148,130 military personnel. In February, the average number of Russian troops killed per day jumped to 842.

Putin’s draft now pulls poorly fed and barely trained conscripts from jails, mental health facilities, hospitals, and warm bodies off the streets, and hands them a gun, with an order to “march forward until they are killed.” This is a brutal, bloody war.

Millions of Ukrainians have fled, living miles from their wrecked country.

Kotkin says, that the war has revealed three pleasant surprises: “Ukraine’s strong resistance, Russia’s poor performance in battle, and the European Union’s unification.”

That the German government is about to send tanks to Ukraine must conjure up terror and nightmares among Russian governing officials and citizens.

Fresh in the Russian people’s collective memory are the 27 million Russian people who lost their lives in World War II, when the German Nazi military machine marched across Central Europe, deep into Russia, causing indescribable destruction.

Kotkin says that Zalensky and Ukrainian officials want three things before peace can happen: “captured Ukrainian territory returned to Ukraine, reparations for property damages, and a tribunal for war crimes.”

Kotkin points out, “that would mean the Ukrainians would have to take Moscow.”

Reparations alone are “estimated at $350 billion in U.S. dollars, when Ukraine’s GDP in 2021, prior to the war, was only $180 billion, just over half of the estimated cost.”

How can anyone stop this bloody war? How can anyone win a peace?

Some possibilities. Start small, with a cease fire for say, a day or a weekend. Draw on a map two red parallel battlelines, and call the land between them, a demilitarized zone. Both sides give up territory in exchange for something else that they want.

According to Kotkin, “a victory for Ukraine” would include entry or “accession into the European Union,” a condition that the Ukrainians crave.

In the podcast, David Remnick reminded Steven Kotkin of Sun Tzu’s quote. The ancient Chinese general said, “Build your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across.”

Kotkin said, “That would be great, but nothing like that is in sight now.”

What is in sight now is a wrecked house.

We celebrated St. Valentine’s Day yesterday, February 14, a day when we reflect upon our good fortune that we have that special person in our life, our Valentine.

Next Monday, February 20, government officials grant us a holiday to consider the forty-five Presidents, all men. Because Grover Cleveland served two non-consecutive terms, officials count him twice, as #24 and #26. Thus, we give honor to forty-four men.

First President George Washington was born on February 11, 1731, by the Julian calendar, but after British officials adopted the Gregorian calendar in 1752, his official birthday was moved to February 22, 1732, a full year and eleven days later.

As far is known, Washington loved his wife Martha and was faithful to her. Throughout the American Revolutionary War, 1775-1783, he may have returned to their home in Mount Vernon, Virginia, once, in September of 1781, just prior to the final battle at Yorktown.

Martha though joined him often at the front lines, and then, years later, after George was elected President in 1786, they moved into the Macomb House in New York City, the seat of the Federal Government then, and remained there together for two four-year terms.

If George Washington had a prior Valentine, it was for Virginia, his first and constant love.

Second President John Adams loved Abigail his wife. There is no evidence of any mistress. John and Abigail wrote hundreds of letters to each other throughout their married life, whenever he was away. If John had a Valentine, it was for Independence from Great Britain.

Third President Thomas Jefferson is a more complicated enigma.

He married Martha Skelton, on January 1, 1772, and over the next ten years she gave birth to six children, but just two lived, Martha and Maria. The pregnancies weakened Martha’s body and contributed to her premature passing on September 6, 1782, at the age of thirty-three.

Jefferson was overcome with deep sorrow. Locked in his room, over several days, the future President paced the floor, until his grief began to subside. His daughter Martha wrote, “The violence of his emotion. To this day I cannot describe it to myself.”

Much has been written in recent years about the relationship between Thomas Jefferson and his slave Sally Hemings, after his wife’s passing. Sally also gave birth to six children. What is odd is that Jefferson’s wife Martha and Sally shared the same dad, and thus were half-sisters.

You can read how the historian Fawn Brodie sifted through the data in her 1974 book, Thomas Jefferson, An Intimate History, or how Annette Gordon-Reed did the same in her 2009 book, The Hemingses of Monticello: An American Family.

The two historians, and others, concluded that Thomas Jefferson most likely took a mistress, a young biracial slave girl named Sally Hemings, an example of “the South’s culture, that of immense hypocrisy, and terrific moral problems, not easily solved.” She was his Valentine.

Fourth President James Madison was devoted to his wife Dolley. Raised a Quaker, she displayed a happy personality and a warm heart. “To this day she remains one of the best known and best loved women of the White House.” In Dolley, James won a Valentine.

Sixteenth President Abraham Lincoln was born on February 12, 1809. He and Mary Todd, his wife, shared one thing, their joint ambition for him to attain the Presidency, and that they did.

However, their differences were well defined. His best quality was his sense of humor that he used to disarm his enemies. He failed though with Mary Todd, who had no sense of humor.

Of her husband, she was bitter and said, “He is of no account when he is at home. He never does anything except to warm himself and read. He never went to the market in his life. I must look after all that. He is the most useless, good-for-nothing man on earth.”

It is no wonder that he said, “Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be.”

If Lincoln ever had a Valentine, it was his love for his sons and his love for the Union.

If a president can win and retain a sweet Valentine, it helps to ease the burdens of the job.

On February 4, 1977, the band Fleetwood Mac released their record-selling “Rumours” album. Lindsey Buckingham and Christine McVie sang one of its songs, “Don’t Stop.”

“If you wake up and don’t want to smile. If it takes just a little while. Open your eyes and look at the day. You’ll see things in a different way. Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow. Don’t stop. It’ll soon be here. It’ll be better than before. Yesterday’s gone. Yesterday’s gone.”

Last week, for the first time, I watched Bill Murray play the part of Phil Connors, in the movie “Groundhog Day.” For a romantic comedy, I would say that it was ok, even better than ok.

Phil Connors is an arrogant, obnoxious weather forecaster, who works at a Pittsburgh television station. His boss sends him to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, eighty miles away, to report on the town’s annual Groundhog Day celebration, set for February 2.

With his producer Rita and cameraman Larry, Connors drives to Punxsutawney on February 1. The next morning, February 2, an alarm clock awakens Connors at 6:00 a.m., in a bed inside the town’s bed and breakfast. The radio plays Sonny and Cher singing, “I’ve Got You Babe.”

A radio DJ then says, “OK, campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties, because it’s cold out there! The National Weather Service is calling for a big blizzard thing today.”

Connors meets Rita and Larry at Gobler’s Knob in the town square to watch the groundhog come out of its box. Connors looks into Larry’s camera and speaks. Rita watches and approves, even though Connors acts and talks in a condescending way about the town’s citizens.

Once the groundhog sees its shadow, an official declares that winter will last six more weeks.

Connors, Rita, and Larry drive out of Punxsutawney, but a blizzard forces them back to the town. The next morning at 6:00 a.m., in his bed, Connors awakens to hear “I’ve Got You Babe,” and the DJ repeats word for word his call for a big blizzard. Connors thinks this odd.

Outside, he notices people walking to Gobler’s Knob. He asks someone what day it is and learns that it is February 2, Groundhog Day. He meets Rita and Larry, but they do not remember that they completed all this yesterday. Larry films Phil a second time.

No one else in Punxsutawney remembers, only Phil Connors.

The next morning at 6:00 a.m., he awakens to hear Sonny and Cher singing, “I’ve Got You Babe,” and to the DJ predicting a blizzard. It is again February 2, Groundhog Day. The same thing happens the next day, and the next day, dozens, perhaps hundreds of times.

He soon realizes that tomorrow never arrives. Every new morning is February 2. He is stuck in a time loop, a Twilight Zone, and Phil Connors never learns how or why this is happening.

He tries to explain his predicament to Rita, his lovely television associate, saying,

“Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn’t one today.” “It’s like yesterday never happened.” “What would you do if you were stuck in one place, and every day was exactly the same, and nothing you did mattered?”

“Rita, if you only had one day to live, what would you do with it?” “I wake up every day right here in Punxsutawney, and it’s always February 2. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” “Now, tomorrow, you will have forgotten all about this. And you’ll treat me like a jerk.”

Phil kills himself again and again, but the next morning he awakens in his bed at 6:00 a.m.

He settles down and takes some baby steps to improve himself. He learns to play the piano. With a chainsaw, he makes an ice sculpture. He learns to speak French. He helps people in town, and they call him “Doctor.” He treats Rita better and falls in love with her.

One critic wrote, “Phil must figure out how to arrest the cycle. The secret, it transpires, lies within him.” Another wrote, “Change arises from repetition. The film follows that to the letter.”

“Groundhog Day,” was first released on February 4, 1993, thirty years ago this week, and to celebrate its anniversary, movie officials plan to release the film this month in select theaters.

“Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow.” Phil Connors never did.