In the promotion of character, as in many other areas, President Trump has managed to make the institution of the presidency feel like the Cheshire Cat. The substance has faded away, leaving a rictus grin floating malevolently in midair. It’s a disconcerting feeling, especially after 16 years under two presidents of different parties who conducted themselves with dignity and their family lives with integrity and affection. But I’d submit that the moral vacuum currently occupying the White House is an opportunity for the rest of us to figure out what it means to be good. Though character has always been an essential quality, these days, we need it more than ever.

I’m sure I’m not the only person who doesn’t entirely like who they became during the 2016 presidential election cycle and after the shock of the verdict on Election Day last year. I’ve felt angry, irritable, short-tempered. I’m plagued by unpleasant, vengeful thoughts. Some of what has happened to me is probably necessary, and some of what it has led me to is probably wise. I’ve been disabused of my remaining illusions about what’s possible in American politics. I’ve been working harder to determine when someone is trying to waste my time and wear me out rather than to really talk to me, and I’ve gotten better about disengaging when a conversation is not worthwhile. I’ve committed to new charitable contributions and community service. But I don’t like the sour incursions into my general determination to be open-hearted and the dampening of my ambition to be kind. And so I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how to be better, both for the benefit of the people around me and for myself.

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The truth is, the White House’s discussion of character in Trump’s proclamation isn’t actually a bad starting point, even if it also is a comprehensive description of everything Trump himself is not.

“Character can be hard to define, but we see it in every day acts — raising and providing for a family with loving devotion, working hard to make the most of an education, and giving back to devastated communities,” the declaration argues. “These and so many other acts big and small constitute the moral fiber of American culture. Character is forged around kitchen tables, built in civic organizations, and developed in houses of worship. It is refined by our choices, large and small, and manifested in what we do when we think no one is paying attention.”

I’ve seen a lot of people do that work of refinement in the past couple of years. I saw it in my friends on the right who rejected Trump’s candidacy early and stuck to their decision in a stalwart fashion. I’ve seen it in my friends who are clergy and theologians who minister to their parishioners and to people who are ill and afraid. I’ve seen it in my friends who have become parents, and tried to become parents, and developed new strength, patience and devotion in the process.

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And I saw a great deal of character in Chicago a few weeks ago for a meeting of the Civic Collaboratory, a gathering of people from all across the political spectrum, organized by my friend, Citizen University’s Eric Liu. For some of them, being engaged in civic life means convening conversations with people who profoundly disagree with them. For others, that means camping out in some of Chicago’s most dangerous neighborhoods in an effort to keep those corners free of violence. The substance of the work these people are doing showed character, and so did the spirit with which they presented their projects and pledged to help one another. Being around them made me unfurl a little bit, and it reminded me how tense and sometimes closed off I’ve been, and for how long.