It’s one of my earliest memories.

My parents and I were living in Jerusalem while they were on sabbaticals.

I was a young boy, and the main thoroughfare near our apartment was lined with Israeli and American flags.

It was July 4, 1976. I remember being on my father’s shoulders.

There was music and celebration as Israel celebrated America’s Bicentennial.

And then the celebration changed.

The joy grew more intense.

Only later did I understand why: word was spreading that Israel had rescued the hostages in Entebbe. An unbelievable mission that saved many Jewish lives.

So my earliest memory of July 4th is not fireworks over the Charles or over the East River, but flags in Jerusalem, American pride and Jewish pride.

Since then, I have thought about America’s 250th birthday. 

Where would I be? What would this country be like decades later? 

A quarter of a millennium.

Somehow, 250 has always felt a whole lot bigger to me than 200. 

And yet I find myself approaching this anniversary with mixed emotions.

On the one hand, I love this country deeply. On the other hand, I am saddened by threats to the ideals on which this country was founded: equality, liberty, human dignity, consent of the governed, truth, the rule of law, and the covenantal responsibility of citizens to one another.

America has never fully lived up to those ideals. 

The founders themselves did not live up to them. 

But the greatness of America has never been that it was perfect. It’s not and no country is.

Its greatness has been that its own founding words keep calling it forward.

Recently, I asked my son Matan what he loves about this country.

His list was wonderful: New England, Massachusetts, cold beaches, Boston, baseball, American sports culture, colleges, great writers, American poetry, and the amazing music, which he is very into: folk, Americana, country, jazz, blues, rock,........

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