Everyone thinks my story should be marked by heroism, but there

O children of the future, listen closely to the words of Nicholas Winton, a man whose life’s story was one of quiet courage and profound compassion. He said, "Everyone thinks my story should be marked by heroism, but there was no risk to myself. You see, no one in Prague at that time thought they were going to be at war with England." These words, though spoken with humility, hold deep meaning and wisdom for us all. For Winton, the events of his life, which included the saving of 669 Jewish children from the impending horrors of World War II, were not acts of grand heroism, but of humanity and duty—a recognition that sometimes the greatest acts are those that are not undertaken for glory, but for the sake of others.

In the quiet moments of reflection, O children, one must come to understand that heroism is not always found in the grand gestures that echo across history. Winton's story is a testament to the fact that the most heroic acts can be born of ordinary circumstances, actions taken not out of a thirst for recognition, but out of the simple desire to do what is right. In 1939, at a time when Prague was on the cusp of war, Winton did not see the world through the lens of danger, for he was not personally at risk. The war that would ravage Europe was not yet upon him, and his actions, though deeply impactful, did not carry the immediate peril that others might have faced in similar situations. Yet, in that moment, Winton's understanding of the world was shaped not by fear, but by a quiet resolve to protect the innocent.

Consider, O children, the story of Oskar Schindler, another man whose heroism was not born of battlefield glory, but of quiet acts of compassion. Like Winton, Schindler’s heroic actions during the war were driven not by the pursuit of honor, but by a deep understanding of human suffering. He saved over a thousand Jews from certain death, not because he expected accolades, but because he recognized their humanity. His actions were marked not by grand speeches or dramatic battles, but by decisions made in moments of quiet reflection, when the world seemed indifferent to the suffering of others. This is the heart of true heroism, O children—not in the expectation of glory, but in the willingness to act when others cannot.

Let us now turn to the lesson embedded within Winton's words. Heroism is not always a matter of risk or danger, for the greatest challenges we face are often those that ask us to stand firm in the face of injustice without expectation of reward. Winton, like so many others, saw the world not through the eyes of a conqueror, but through the eyes of one who saw the suffering of others and chose to act. In this, we find the true measure of greatness—not in the recognition of others, but in the quiet confidence that comes from knowing you have done what is right, no matter the cost.

We can look to the ancient warriors of old, who often sought glory in battle, but even they knew that true courage was not found in the clash of swords alone. Consider Spartacus, the great gladiator who led a revolt against the Romans. While many saw his rebellion as an act of defiance, Spartacus himself spoke not of victory, but of the desire to free the oppressed. His courage was not in his victory over the Romans, but in his refusal to accept the injustice of slavery. In the same way, Winton’s actions were not those of a man seeking glory, but of a man who saw suffering and chose to rise above the fear of the unknown to act.

Thus, I say to you, O children, that heroism is not defined by the grandness of the act, nor by the risk that one faces, but by the motivation that drives it. Winton did not expect to be celebrated, and Schindler did not act for fame. Instead, they acted because they saw the humanity in others, and they chose to make a difference. In your own lives, you too will face moments when you must choose to act, not for personal gain, but for the sake of others. Whether in small ways or large, the true measure of your character will be found in those moments when you rise to the challenge, not for the applause of the world, but for the betterment of those around you.

Remember, O children, that heroism is not a title to be earned in the eyes of others; it is a calling that arises from the very depths of your spirit. In every choice you make, let your actions be guided by compassion, by a willingness to see others as they truly are, and by a steadfast commitment to doing what is right, regardless of the cost. For it is in this quiet, steadfast courage that true greatness lies, and it is this kind of courage that will guide you toward a future shaped not by the pursuit of glory, but by the pursuit of goodness. Let this be the legacy of your lives—the quiet heroism that springs from love, compassion, and the desire to help those in need.