I was reminded of that fact while walking through Philadelphia recently. Like most visitors, we visited the familiar pilgrimage to sites associated with the Founding Fathers. I visited Christ Church Burial Ground, where Benjamin Franklin rests. I toured Mikveh Israel, often called the synagogue of the American Revolution and the oldest continuously operating Jewish congregation in the U.S. Standing in those spaces, separated by only a short walk but representing traditions that were marginalized, persecuted, or excluded elsewhere in the world, it became impossible not to notice that the physical map of Philadelphia tells a deeper story than most history textbooks ever could.

Within just a few blocks, one encounters churches, synagogues, burial grounds, meeting houses, and civic institutions that together illustrate a revolutionary idea: that a nation could be built not upon religious uniformity, but upon the freedom of people with profoundly different beliefs to live alongside one another without fear of the government. At a time when much of Europe was still emerging from centuries of religious conflict and state-established churches remained the norm throughout much of the Western world, the American experiment represented something genuinely radical. The founders did not merely tolerate religious diversity — they considered it an essential component of the first responsibilities of a government committed to protecting liberty.

When I spoke recently with Becket Fund President and CEO Mark Rienzi, he described religious liberty as one of America’s most distinctive contributions to human civilization. That sounds obvious to the modern public. It was anything but obvious to most of human history.

For centuries, governments sought either to establish a preferred faith or suppress religion altogether. Religious minorities were tolerated only conditionally, if they were tolerated at all. The American experiment represented a dramatic departure from that model. The First Amendment did not simply prevent the creation of a national church — it protected the free exercise of religion. The founders understood that faith was not merely a private preference but a fundamental aspect of human identity.

That distinction is easy to overlook because the public has lived with it for so long. Religious liberty is often discussed as a legal doctrine or constitutional protection, but it is better understood as one of the central pillars of the American project itself.

Walking through Philadelphia, it becomes difficult not to notice what Rienzi described as the American answer to religious diversity. Within a few city blocks stand institutions representing traditions that have often come into conflict elsewhere in the world. Yet here, they exist side by side, not because their differences disappeared, but because the founders built a system that protected those differences rather than attempting to erase them.

It is fitting, then, that the Becket Fund for Religious Liberty has chosen Philadelphia and the National Constitution Center as the setting for its 2026 Canterbury Medal Gala as part of the broader America 250 celebration later this week. Few organizations in modern America have done more to preserve the principle that made Philadelphia possible in the first place.

Over the last three decades, Becket has become one of the nation’s most influential defenders of religious liberty, representing clients across an astonishing range of faith traditions. The organization has defended Orthodox Jewish congregations, Muslim prisoners, Catholic nuns, Native American tribes, Sikhs, Protestants, Latter-day Saints, and many others whose beliefs brought them into conflict with government mandates or regulations.

Rienzi is fond of pointing out that Becket’s client list often confuses people searching for ideological consistency.

The same legal team that defended the Little Sisters of the Poor against the federal contraceptive mandate is representing military chaplains of every faith. More recently, Becket represented the religiously diverse coalition of parents in Mahmoud v. Taylor, bringing together Muslims, Christians, and others around the principle that parents in the public school system in my home of Montgomery County, Maryland, should retain authority over the religious upbringing of their children.

The Canterbury Medal itself reflects the same broad understanding of religious liberty that has animated Becket’s work for more than three decades. Looking at the list of past recipients is almost like looking at a map of U.S. religious life.

Among those honored are Nobel laureate Elie Wiesel, whose Jewish faith and moral witness were shaped by surviving the Holocaust; Lord Jonathan Sacks, the former chief rabbi of the United Kingdom and one of the most influential Jewish thinkers of the modern era; Cardinal Timothy Dolan, one of the most prominent Catholic leaders in America; and Dallin H. Oaks, a leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Other recipients have included Barry Black, the longtime Senate Chaplain whose ministry reflects the black Protestant tradition, as well as legal scholars, public servants, clergy, and advocates drawn from an extraordinary range of religious backgrounds.

The Canterbury Medal roster looks remarkably similar to Philadelphia itself. Jews, Catholics, Protestants, Latter-day Saints, and others stand not in agreement, but in mutual recognition that religious liberty belongs to all of them or ultimately to none of them.

This year’s recipient, however, represents a different kind of contribution. Rather than honoring a household name, Becket is awarding the Canterbury Medal to William P. Mumma, the organization’s longtime board chairman. In years past, the gala has recognized prominent public figures whose contributions to religious liberty were highly visible. This year, Becket has chosen to honor the man who helped make Becket itself possible.

When founder Kevin “Seamus” Hasson became ill with Parkinson’s disease, Mumma left a successful Wall Street career and stepped in to help guide the organization through a pivotal period. As Rienzi explained, Mumma provided the leadership, management expertise, and institutional stability that enabled a small legal nonprofit group to mature into one of the most influential religious liberty organizations in the country. It is difficult to imagine Becket’s extraordinary record of victories over the last decade without the foundation he helped build behind the scenes.

There is something especially fitting about recognizing that kind of service in Philadelphia.

The American founding was not sustained by famous speeches alone. It required people willing to build institutions strong enough to preserve the ideals articulated in those speeches long after the founders themselves were gone. The Constitution mattered because generations of Americans defended it. Religious liberty endured because generations of Americans insisted that it remain a core part of the national character.

During our conversation, Rienzi reflected on what it means that Becket’s annual gala will take place in Philadelphia during the America 250 celebration, “because we’re trying to highlight the connection between religion and religious liberty and the wonderful story of America.”

MY CITY SAYS I NEED A LICENSE TO PRAY WITH FRIENDS IN MY HOME. THE CONSTITUTION SAYS OTHERWISE

Walking from Christ Church Burial Ground to Mikveh Israel and then to the National Constitution Center, it is difficult not to see that idea physically embedded in the city itself. The church and the synagogue, the cemetery and the Constitution, all tell the same story. They remind visitors that America’s greatest achievement was not merely creating a government of the people, but creating a nation where people of profoundly different faiths could live together in freedom.

Two hundred and fifty years after the Declaration of Independence, that remains one of the most radical and beautiful ideas the U.S. ever produced.