I began this life in the Commonwealth of Kentucky, which was, at that long-ago time in 1937, one of the member states of the United States of America. Now several generations later my fondest wish is that the other end of my life could take place in the Commonwealth of America. Perhaps you will do me the honor of staying long enough to hear the reasons why I wish this.

“Commonwealth” derives from the Latin term res publica, loosely meaning affairs of the public. Also root of the word republic, res publica is commonly translated into English as a conjoining of “common” and “wealth.” In 15th century usage, “commonwealth” meant the “public welfare, advantage or general good”—that is, a political community founded to promote and serve the common wealth, the common good, of all people in a community. By the 17th century, common use of “commonwealth” had expanded meaning as “a state in which the supreme power is vested in the people”—i.e., a republic or democratic state. A century later the Massachusetts constitution of 1780 officially designated the state as a “commonwealth,” probably because the word by then also conveyed anti-monarchial sentiment. Virginia, Kentucky and Pennsylvania also were originally designated as, and are today, commonwealths.

In the second decade of the 21st century, there is nothing “in common” about wealth in the United States. We have extreme wealth inequality—the worst among the developed nations—and it keeps getting worse.

Just over eight hundred American billionaires control a combined $5.7 trillion. At the same time, 40 million Americans subsist on poverty-level income—$15,000 a year for one person—which means struggling, every day of your life, just to consistently buy food, clothing and shelter—much less pay for health care, some insurance and a little fun. Can you imagine yourself trying to live on $15,000 a year? Another 51 million Americans get by with income between abject poverty and the bottom rung of middle class. Poverty and near-poverty combined thus total 91 million souls—together, one-fourth of the American population.

In 2024 middle-class income in the USA ranges between $49,715 and $149,160 on average, or a bit more if you live in a large city ($52,000 to $155,000). Median middle-class household income is around $76,000 a year. If we were to raise every one of those 40 million in poverty up to the mere bottom end of middle class income—say $50,000—the price tag would be exactly $2 trillion. That’s just about one-third of the $5.7 trillion now amassed under—owned by—eight hundred billionaires consummately unconcerned about the ever-inflating cost of food, clothing and shelter, not to mention doctors, insurance and a little fun.

This example concerns just one of the manifold benefits we as a national people could gain if we paid some attention to distributing our common wealth more fairly, must justly, more equitably. Not “equally,” mind you, just less unfairly. Why don’t we ever hear any serious talk about doing exactly that? Thus is raised a blatantly, grossly, paramount, moral/ethical issue:  Our revered nation—for the creation and defense of which all ranks have bled and died—simply should not by any standard of value have a handful of golden jackpot barons at the same time as millions struggle through lives of hardship simply trying to survive.

The Constitution’s preamble mandates that we “promote the general welfare” and “secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity.” The golden rule tells us to treat others the way we would like them to treat us. While having dinner at a prominent Pharisee’s house, Jesus told the host that he should hold a banquet just for poor people who cannot afford to return the favor (Luke 14:12-14). Near-death experiencers report that while in the spirit realm they were told that our purpose is to help others, attain knowledge and to love unconditionally. The Judeo-Christian Bible is replete with verses telling us to help others, such as “Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality” (e.g., Romans 12:13).

That’s five moral mandates. A sixth is our conscience, telling us to be nice, be fair, help people who clearly need help. Gowing a conscience of ethical and moral impulses begins in early childhood, or is supposed to, by learning to share our toys, say thank you, be courteous, don’t be selfish, or obnoxious, or greedy, or a bully. Called childhood values, these are truly life values. Why don’t we all learn them? If a few Americans are hoarding somewhere around half our national wealth while one in every ten Americans struggles daily to survive at the lowest threadbare level of impoverishment, we as a nation have a values problem.