A commencement isn’t just a long, often dull ceremony associated with graduation. It’s a beginning, and since life is a series of beginnings (and endings and new beginnings), I’d like to address you, my fellow students of the U of L in a commencement speech of sorts.
In the University of Life, life itself is our teacher. Experience is the greatest educator, and education is unending. If we go to other schools, particularly college, it is merely to learn how to learn, to be made a student, so that when we graduate and commence into our “real” lives, into jobs and families and all the ambiguities of adulthood, we will be prepared for the truest, deepest learning to begin.
There’s a catch, of course. There always is.
If we are truly to learn, to grow, to become, if we are to eat the book of life, take into ourselves all it has to offer, life must find us willing students. When the student is ready, the teacher will come. Well, ready or not, life, the great teacher is upon us, but we will learn nothing if we’re not open, willing, ready to learn.
In the profound words of the brilliant Frederick Buechner, “Listen to your life.” Listen closely and listen carefully. It whispers. Life, like God who gives it, is subtle—easy to miss. Buechner goes on to say “See [your life] for the fathomless mystery that it is. Touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are sacred moments and life itself is grace.”
If we are found ready, how will we learn? Not line upon line, precept upon precept, and not in any semblance of linear or vertical progression. The courses offered at U of L are circular where we wind and wander more than ascend and achieve. Life is a series of steps forward and setbacks, never quite what we imagined, never quite what we planned. The students who do best at U of L are flexible. In creating the world, God created order out of chaos, and sometimes (far more often than we would like to admit) the chaos shows through. Roll with it. Let life take you where it will. Don’t attempt to master it. It is the master, you and I, its pupils, and we must add humility to our flexibility. At U of L we learn to bend or we break.
What will we learn in our classes at U of L? Probably variations of the same curriculum, each with nuance specificity unique to us. The degree programs here are highly individualized. We learn different lessons at different times—largely up to us. Life is a Montessori institution, but I’ll share with you a little of what I’m trying to learn:
Meaning in life is more important than money (or anything else). Meaning comes from purpose, service, and love. Purpose comes from us knowing who we are and what we’re here for—finding and opening our gift and using it to serve others. Our gift will do much for us, but it’s what it does for others that is most rewarding. Loving and being loved gives our lives more meaning than any accomplishment or achievement or attainment.
Life all comes down to choices. There are always two trees. Choose life. There are always two gates. Choose the narrow one. There are always two paths. Choose the one less traveled. Character is destiny. Choices determine character. Our fates are up to us. What a gift. What a responsibility.
There are costs involved in everything, and they’re often hidden. We can pay now or we can pay later, and it’s always best to pay now.
As Einstein said, “Imagination is more important than intellect.”
Depth and richness—spiritually, intellectually, creatively—need stillness, silence, and solitude. Just be. Be still. Be quiet. Be yourself. Be true. Be.
Life is difficult. There’s nothing easy about this school. The course work is rigorous, the schedule demanding. We’re not only having knowledge and wisdom put in us, but also having ego, pride, envy, selfishness, self-righteousness beaten out of us.
U of L is, or should be, a party school. As difficult and as painful as life can be, it is also fine and inspiring and awe-filling and wondrous—worthy of celebrating. We celebrate to appreciate, to savor, to honor, to cherish. Life is a gift. Gifts are given at parties. Commence the celebration.
Finally, life is short. It’s the gift none of us want, one that seems to keep on taking, but mortality is a gift. Soon we will graduate from this life, taking with us to the next only that which we learned here. Every semester change, every tick of the clock, every drop of sand, every heartbeat draws us that much closer to the commencement at which we are surrounded by flowers instead of classmates. Time is short. Life is precious. Ding. Ding. School is in. Get your ed on. Commence to living. Commence to learning. For at the U of L you’re only a student once. Commence to making the most of it.
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