When I first ran for public office, it was with the passion and

“When I first ran for public office, it was with the passion and idealism of a young man who believed that government could help make our lives better, that public service was a calling and that citizenship demanded responsibilities. There was a greater good.” Thus spoke James McGreevey, a man who had walked through both the light and shadow of politics, and who, in reflection, rediscovered the meaning of service. His words are the confession of a soul that once burned with idealism, that sacred fire which kindles the hearts of all who dream of a nobler world. In them, we hear not only nostalgia but wisdom — the wisdom of one who learned that power, when stripped of virtue, is empty, and that the true purpose of leadership is not dominion, but duty.

The origin of this quote comes from McGreevey’s later years, after he had risen to the office of Governor of New Jersey and fallen from it in scandal. Having endured public humiliation and personal reckoning, he looked back upon the young man he once was — full of faith in the power of government to serve the people and uplift the weak. It was the vision that had drawn him, like so many before him, into the halls of politics: the belief that public service is not merely a career but a calling, a sacred trust. His words are tinged with longing, for they come from a man who knew how pure the flame once was, and how easily it can be dimmed by ambition, corruption, and the compromises of power.

When McGreevey speaks of “the passion and idealism of a young man,” he recalls a universal moment in every generation — the age of belief, when one still sees the world not as it is, but as it could be. In that moment, the heart burns with a conviction that good men and women, working together, can build a better society. It is the same faith that animated the founding fathers of nations, the same hope that drove reformers, abolitionists, and suffragists to labor against despair. In this way, his reflection becomes timeless: the story of youth’s fire meeting the world’s cold reality, and of the long struggle to keep that fire alive amid the winds of cynicism.

The phrase “citizenship demanded responsibilities” is the cornerstone of his reflection. Too often, people speak of rights, but forget duties; they desire liberty, but neglect the cost of maintaining it. McGreevey’s vision recalls an ancient truth — that the health of a republic depends not on the brilliance of its leaders alone, but on the virtue of its citizens. To be a citizen, in the truest sense, is to share in the burden of stewardship — to act, to serve, to care for the fate of one’s neighbors. In ages past, the Greeks called it civic virtue, the Romans called it pietas — the devotion to the common good above self-interest. McGreevey reminds us that democracy is not a gift given, but a garden that must be tended.

To understand his lament, we might recall the tale of another leader — Cincinnatus of Rome. In a time of peril, the Roman Senate called upon him to become dictator, granting him supreme power to save the Republic. He took up the mantle, led Rome to victory, and then, when his work was done, laid down his power and returned to his plow. His greatness lay not in his command, but in his humility — his recognition that public service is a trust, not a possession. McGreevey’s words, born of regret, echo the same lesson: that true honor in governance lies not in wealth or office, but in the selfless pursuit of the greater good.

Yet, McGreevey’s reflection is not one of despair. It is a call to renewal. By admitting how easily idealism can fade, he urges those who follow to guard it more fiercely. He reminds us that government, though flawed, remains one of the noblest expressions of humanity — for it is the vessel through which we choose to care for one another. “There was a greater good,” he says, as if to awaken that sleeping faith within us all — the belief that politics can be more than competition, that it can be compassion made manifest. His voice, though marked by failure, becomes a teacher’s voice — urging the next generation to build what he could not sustain.

Therefore, O listener, take this wisdom to heart: do not lose faith in service, even when servants fail. For the failings of men do not erase the sanctity of the mission. Whether you lead a city, a company, or a single household, remember that citizenship demands responsibility — that each of us has a part to play in the shaping of the common good. Let your passion be tempered by humility, and your idealism by wisdom, but let neither be extinguished. For a world without idealists is a world without progress, and a government without conscience is no government at all.

So hold fast, as McGreevey once did in youth, to the belief that there is a greater good — a light beyond personal ambition, a purpose larger than the self. For it is not power that redeems us, but service; not victory that ennobles us, but virtue. The young man’s dream must become the wise man’s duty, and the duty of all citizens is to remember: the strength of a nation lies not in its laws or leaders, but in the courage of its people to believe, even after disillusionment, that the good remains worth striving for.