Aug. 21, 2022: Convocation Remarks

Good evening members of our distinguished faculty and staff. And welcome, Bucknell University transfer students and Class of 2026!

I'd like to dwell a moment on this night. After spending so much of my career in higher education and having the privilege of addressing Bucknell's incoming class for the past 12 years, I know the special character of this moment, just as I know the spectacular potential within each of you. Tonight, we celebrate you, but we also challenge you—I hope—like never before. In doing that I call up memories of John F. Kennedy's powerful speech announcing his determination to land men on the moon, in which he said, "We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win" Those remarks were made almost exactly 60 years ago, also on a university campus.

Bright young scholars, burgeoning leaders, passionate advocates, accomplished athletes, and artists of exceptional talent, all assembled together on the threshold of a chapter in your lives that will be transformative. Your time at Bucknell will shape you into critical thinkers and strong leaders, committed to lifetimes of intellectual exploration, creativity, and imagination. We are all about the life of the mind, but we are also about the whole person, each and every one of you.

Moments like this give me hope and joy in a period that has been marked by so much uncertainty, disappointment and anguish.

Our current students have felt the weight of our times, as have all of us on the staff and faculty. And I know it has certainly impacted your lives too.

Typically, I dedicate my convocation message to praising the values of a liberal arts education. I might share excerpts from Ralph Waldo Emerson's lecture, The American Scholar, in which he talks romantically about scholars plying, "the slow, unhonored and unpaid task of observation."

But I understand that promoting the slow unhonored task of observation can feel out of touch with the realities of the day — lacking urgency and awareness of how our world appears to be fraying at every seam — and oblivious to the impact of the technology in our pockets.

I promise to not spend another milestone in your lives talking about the pandemic, but we certainly must acknowledge the effects of the isolation and inflamed politics, to say little of its devastating life and death impact.

Most of you in this room have also grown up only knowing nations at war. That is a tragic marker almost unique to your generation. Headlines abound about famines, violence and unrest in so many parts of the world. The crisis in Ukraine has been brought into our living rooms, and mass shootings have become an all-too-common occurrence.

Your generation has only known a world consumed by the dilemma of social media. The promises of a digitally connected society — which are many — have come with technology addictions, online bullying, and untold hours spent scrolling — absorbing images of filtered faces and inflated stories of success and happiness.

And, of course, there are the nation's political and cultural divisions. America's ability to take on our toughest challenges of today has been strained by the dramatic decline in civility, democratic norms, and the most basic agreement on what is true.

And then there's global warming, severe droughts, and devastating fires … This is the world in which you have come of age.

This is the reality of our times. And it cannot be ignored.

And so, to prepare my message for you this evening, I revisited moments in our nation's past when others may have felt as disillusioned as we do today. In doing so, I was reminded of two important lessons.

The first is something we all know, but that we can lose sight of, which is that we are not alone in living in divided and uncertain times. This is not to suggest that our anxiety or frustration is unwarranted. However, over the course of history, there have been generations — not to mention races, economic classes, and identities of all types — who have been demoralized and discouraged.

In fact, no generation has ever inherited a perfect world; though, some have certainly received spectacularly imperfect ones.

Perhaps some of you are wondering if yours is one of those generations.

Maybe …

But that makes the second lesson that I've taken from the past all the more important to remember. It is this — no matter how discouraging the times, no matter how great the challenges, no matter how far the momentum of progress has recoiled, it does not absolve us from the responsibility of making our greatest efforts to right the trajectory of the world.

We are not exempt from attempting to repair what is broken. We will not be forgiven by future generations for shielding ourselves from our greatest struggles.

We, in this room, in particular, should feel compelled to address the challenges of our society, head-on. At a time when we are encouraged to acknowledge our privileges, we should always remember that being a part of a great educational institution is a profound privilege. You are surrounded at Bucknell by distinguished faculty and staff who are eager to give you the encouragement, knowledge and skills to better the world, all while you are bettering yourselves.

I know it won't come easy. Change never has. But we must use our dissatisfaction and disappointment to drive us to make a difference, not to keep us on the sidelines. In doing so, you will receive an education that you can barely imagine as you sit here this evening.

Consider Elizabeth Cady Stanton, a pioneering feminist who lived at a time in America when women were denied some of their most basic rights. They could not vote. They were barred from conducting most forms of business. Even leaving an abusive marriage was considered presumptuous on the part of women.

Was Ms. Stanton angry over the circumstances? Undoubtedly. But she channeled that passion into action. In the face of extraordinary intimidation, she rose at the 1868 Woman's Suffrage Convention to profess one of the first persuasive frameworks advocating for a woman's right to vote. She proclaimed, "[A woman] must respect [men's] statutes, though they strip her of every inalienable right and conflict with that higher law written by the finger of God on her own soul."

More than 30 years earlier, Maria Stewart delivered what is considered to be the first public lecture ever given by an American woman. As a Black woman in 1832, she was given every reason to lack faith in her nation and her ability to change it. But Ms. Stewart found the courage to stand in front of a crowd and champion the idea of education for the Black community as a path to independence and prosperity. The backlash of society was so fierce that Ms. Stewart never delivered another public lecture. But one was enough, and she had lit a spark. "It is of no use to us to sit with our hands folded, hanging our heads like bulrushes, lamenting our wretched condition," she proclaimed. "… let us make a mighty effort and arise."

More than 100 years after the emancipation proclamation, Dr. Martin Luther King was still fighting a battle for racial justice against enormous resistance. In his time, he saw churches bombed, peaceful protestors beaten, a President and a fellow civil rights leader, assassinated.

This was the time in which I came of age. These events overlaid the contentious and deadly Vietnam War, and the nation felt like a scorching pot ready to boil over. Dr. King organized the cries of suffering and outrage to lead a movement to end segregation, end undue economic hardships, and end discrimination in busing, lodging, voting and so many other facets of upward mobility and everyday life.

In his iconic, "I have a Dream Speech," Dr. King spoke of those who would indignantly ask, "When will you be satisfied?" His response to them was this: "We will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream."

The Reverend delivered that speech in the symbolic shadow of the leader who held together the country at its most divided, Abraham Lincoln. At the height of the Civil War, President Lincoln delivered another unforgettable address at the site of the Battle of Gettysburg — a three-day clash that left 50,000 casualties just 100 miles to our south.

Lincoln made no political jabs. There were no calls for vengeance or violence. He did not resign himself to hopelessness or dwell on the challenge presented to him. Instead, he dedicated his historic remarks to a recurring theme — a theme that summoned us, the living, to finish the work of restoring the country for the good of future generations. And Lincoln did all of this in fewer than 300 words, in one of the most remarkable speeches in history.

I know such moments in history can feel distant from college life, but for Bucknell students at the time, they were as relevant as the issues we face today.

Mary Bartol Theiss, Class of 1894, and Lewis Edwin Theiss, Class of 1902, furthered the work of Elizabeth Cady Stanton by traveling the country to chronicle the nation's halting progress towards passing the 19^th Amendment.

Dr. King once brought his social justice movement to Bucknell's campus. In 1958, he walked the very pathways you walk today and preached to the students in the Davis Gym Annex.

And, in the weeks leading up to the Battle of Gettysburg, the entire Bucknell community was upended. A dispatch had arrived on June 15, 1863, two weeks before the battle, warning that General Lee was intent on invading Pennsylvania. Two days later, nearly every male in the student body marched in formation out of town, having formed a company of soldiers to help push back the Confederacy. The women on campus discussed where to bury valuables in case the opposing Army made it to Lewisburg. Eventually, they left campus for safety and the college closed.

The company of Bucknell soldiers began their tour of duty in Harrisburg. On the first night, they slept on the grass in front of the Capitol. The next night, they slept inside, on the floor. In the following days, the students guarded strategic bridges. You can only imagine their adrenaline and fear as they listened to the unending volleys of cannon fire at Gettysburg and Carlisle. They eventually moved closer to the fighting — marching through streets riddled by artillery rounds and scorched by fire — but fortunately never encountered combat.

After Lee's army receded, the Bucknell company was relieved of duty. The students took a train back to Northumberland and quickly hiked the final 10 miles back to Lewisburg without waiting for another train. They were in a hurry. Ragged and dusty from their brush with war, they marched back on campus and directly into the graduation ceremony for the Class of 1863.

Why tell you all of this? Because, Class of 2026, I want to remind you that the triumphs of history were not inevitable. The advancements of society did not merely come with time. They were hard won by individuals — like you — willing to use their talents and concern for the greater good to overcome the most imposing challenges. Yes, these individuals knew frustration, they experienced anxiety, they felt anger. But they used those emotions to drive them.

In his first inaugural speech, in the grips of the Great Depression, Franklin Roosevelt said, "Only a foolish optimist can deny the dark realities of the moment." But he also and more memorably asserted that "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself."

We've heard this phrase so many times that its brilliance feels worn, but don't let it be so. Ruminate on these words. It's an extraordinary reminder that our ability to overcome the challenges of our day resides within us — the biggest obstacle is our doubt that nothing can be changed.

And this concept has value for strengthening the wellbeing of our society, just as it has for our individual wellbeing.

Mental health is something we take very seriously at Bucknell. In recent years, as we have seen anxiety and depression on the rise, we have doubled down on the counseling and crisis resources available to our community. If they can ever be of help, I urge you to use them. I urge you also to find, over time, the friends and mentors that everyone needs to deal with life's challenges.

Lastly, and if possible, channel your doubts and anxieties into motivation or excitement — make a plan, take an action, get something done. Dr. Adam Grant, a best-selling author and organizational psychologist, once wrote, "Fear is an intense emotion: You can feel your heart pumping and your blood coursing. In that state, trying to relax is like slamming on the brakes when a car is going 80 miles per hour… Rather than trying to suppress a strong emotion, it's easier to convert it into a different emotion — one that's equally intense, but propels us to step on the gas."

Throughout these challenging times, I have tried to keep my focus on what gets me excited and what gives me hope. One such focus is our mission and our commitments to you. Another is certainly the accomplishments of our graduates. I proudly watch them channel their own energies into remarkable work.

Sarah Schmalzle, Class of 2005, is now the Medical Director of the THRIVE program at the Institute of Human Virology at the University of Maryland School of Medicine. Her program provides patient-centered care and social support to more than 2,500 people living with HIV in Baltimore.

Kendy Alvarez, Class of 2006, is the second woman and first woman of color to hold the position of Mayor of Lewisburg. Among her priorities is re-establishing a Town and Gown committee to strengthen the relationship between the local community and Bucknell.

Lakyira Williams, Class of 2014, better known by her artist name Oompa, is pursuing her music career in Boston. She has played alongside global artists such as Two Chains, Weezer, Metallica and the Foo Fighters, all while serving others — living the Bucknellian ideal of philanthropy — through the launch of a cultural agency aimed at supporting established artists.

And most recently, Victor Svistunov, Class of 2022, joined Harvard Medical School as a research assistant at Boston Children's Hospital where he plans to pursue his M.D. Ph.D. and eventually take sustainable healthcare infrastructure back to his home country of Cape Verde, an archipelago nation off the coast of west Africa.

The stories of these Bucknellians, and countless more, give me such hope. MAs, MBAs, JDs, MDs, PhD, all attained. Businesses founded; government service faithfully discharged. All of this and so much more.

These stories remind me to never stop believing that bright people of strong character, with well-rounded educations and compassionate hearts, can take the flawed world that we receive and advance it closer to what it can be.

That's why I began this night on a sentimental note about what convocation means to me.

You are the next wave of bright, good-hearted, well-rounded scholars who are going to restore and gain so much progress for the world. You are the rising leaders who are going to take your communities…your nation… the world…toward a better future — one that might be hard to see through the haze of current events but one that we will prepare you to create during your time at Bucknell.

This is not hyperbole; this is not romanticized. Nelson Mandela, who healed a country nearly torn apart by racism, said, "Education is the most powerful weapon we can use to change the world."

And as someone else once said, "if you think education is expensive, try ignorance."

Don't underestimate the journey on which you are about to embark. Recognize that you were selected to be in this room because you hold extraordinary potential.

Be inspired by the peers around you, who will soon become classmates, colleagues, and lifelong friends. Soak up the knowledge and insights imparted by our faculty and staff — a collection of renowned scholars, experienced practitioners, and talented teachers and mentors.

Most importantly, have faith that the world can indeed change. Have faith in yourselves! And know that with the education you will receive here, there will be few people more prepared, capable and driven to change the world than you.

I cannot wait to see what you accomplish. Welcome, again, Class of 2026!