Tolerance is a virtue that depends upon peace and strength.

Hear the words of Charles Lindbergh, the lone eagle who once crossed the ocean sky, who reflected not only on the triumph of flight but on the nature of mankind: “Tolerance is a virtue that depends upon peace and strength.” These words, spoken with the clarity of one who had seen both the glory of progress and the shadow of conflict, remind us that true tolerance cannot exist in weakness or in chaos. It flourishes only when the heart is strong and the world is steady.

When Lindbergh speaks of tolerance, he names that noble quality by which we endure differences, forgive faults, and live with generosity toward those not like ourselves. Yet he warns that this virtue is fragile unless it rests upon a foundation. Without peace, the soul is too restless to grant mercy; without strength, the spirit is too fearful to allow freedom. A nation torn by war or a man consumed by weakness has little room for tolerance, for both are driven to survival rather than magnanimity.

History reveals this truth. Consider the reign of Emperor Ashoka in ancient India. In his youth, he was a conqueror, drenched in the blood of battle. But when peace finally came to his empire, and his strength as ruler was secure, his heart opened to the teachings of compassion. He embraced Buddhism and spread tolerance throughout his lands, protecting diverse peoples and faiths. His tolerance was not born of fragility, but of power tempered by peace. His empire became not only vast, but humane.

So too in the American story: after the Civil War, the nation struggled to rebuild. Tolerance was scarce, for peace was fragile and hearts were weak with grief. It was only generations later, when strength was restored and peace more secure, that greater steps toward tolerance—civil rights, equality, and justice—were made. Lindbergh’s insight here is clear: tolerance is not the seed, but the fruit. It blooms where peace and strength have already taken root.

The deeper meaning is that tolerance is not passive resignation, nor mere indulgence. It is an active virtue, a deliberate choice to grant dignity and freedom to others. But only the strong can afford to grant such liberty. The weak fear difference; the restless cannot endure it. Only those whose inner fortress is secure, whose lives are governed by peace, can open their gates to welcome the stranger. Thus tolerance is both a gift and a sign: a gift to the world, and a sign of a people’s maturity.

The lesson for us, O listener, is this: if you would practice tolerance, first seek peace in your own soul and strength in your own character. Do not expect a divided heart to grant forgiveness, nor a fearful spirit to offer respect. Work to become strong in virtue, strong in patience, strong in truth. Seek peace by resolving conflict, healing wounds, and quieting needless strife. Then tolerance will flow naturally, like water from a deep well.

Practical actions are plain: in your home, cultivate harmony, so that tolerance may thrive among family. In your community, work for justice and security, so that fear does not breed hatred. In your heart, strengthen your faith, your discipline, and your compassion, so that when you meet those unlike you, your first instinct is not fear but understanding. For only the strong can forgive, only the peaceful can endure, and only those who are both can truly be tolerant.

Thus Lindbergh’s words stand as a guiding torch: “Tolerance is a virtue that depends upon peace and strength.” Let us therefore build peace, cultivate strength, and from these sow the seeds of tolerance. For in this triad lies the hope of nations, the endurance of communities, and the noblest triumph of the human soul.