Fall Convocation

Provost’s Welcome Message to the Class of 2030 

Elliott Visconsi, Provost & Dean of the College 

Please be seated. 

Good evening, President Rougeau, Dean Bakkegaard, Dean Maurer, Chaplain Mary LaVigne-Greeley – parents and friends watching online– and especially members of the class of 2030. 

It is my honor as Provost and Dean of the College to welcome you to this evening’s convocation, which marks your formal matriculation as students of the College of the Holy Cross. 

We have something in common. As you are now doing, I began my own academic journey in these very pews as a member of the Class of 1995. I suspect you now feel, as I did then, really excited about getting started– and maybe a little impatient to do so. Don’t worry, I plan to speak for only about 90 minutes. 

By now you’ve received a lot of advice about how to thrive in college—how to thrive as a student, how to make the most of these four years; and how to grow as a young person for and with others. 

As Provost, my job is to work with our wonderful faculty and staff to offer a world-class learning experience for you. This is a special honor for me, since it was here at Holy Cross that I understood my own calling as a scholar and an educator. In particular, I discovered here at Holy Cross that learning happens best in community, among and with others who push you and support you. Here my classmates and I had so many professors whose example I try to emulate to this day. Professors who took our ideas seriously, who asked a lot of us but always reminded us that we were up to the challenge. I know that you will have that same experience– you’ll have mentors who ask hard questions which have no easy answers, who hold you to the highest academic and ethical standards, and who support you to realize your goals and develop fully as people. Your growth and exploration as a student lies at the center of what we do at the College. 

I also realize that it’s 2026 and not 1991. This is a different moment– with different pressures and different opportunities. As learners, and thinkers, we are still challenged to seek the truth, be patient with ambiguity and uncertainty, seek justice, and accompany others. And as Father Keith reminded us just a few days ago, we are invited into deep discernment on our journey towards wholeness. 

The College’s mission statement establishes essential academic goals. I’ll quote from it: “As a liberal arts college, Holy Cross pursues excellence in teaching, learning, and research. All who share in its life are challenged to be open to new ideas, to be patient with ambiguity and uncertainty, to combine a passion for truth with respect for the views of others.” I want to dwell on the idea of “patience with uncertainty” for just a moment. Academics may seem like a quest for certainty– resolving ambiguity, answering questions correctly, and making concrete what is known. If this has been your experience of learning—then what role can uncertainty actually play? Uncertainty is the engine of curiosity; uncertainty is a call to deliberate action, to patient seeking rather than quick resolution. Uncertainty is also a call to humility, a reminder that we don’t have all the answers. In fact it may be that asking the right questions is the one of the most essential skills and capacities you can cultivate in your education. That is the first piece of advice I’ll offer– seek out the questions that get you closer to the truth, the questions that help you to see what hasn’t been seen. 

You have the freedom to discover. You have the opportunity to think for yourself. 

It is more important than ever that we all think for ourselves, right now, in 2026. We are inundated with technologies offering to think for us, be our friends, and provide us with life advice. I am reminded of a scene from The Office, where Michael and Dwight are traveling to a lakeside event at the Elmhurst Country Club by the lakeside. Since neither knows the area, they are using a GPS device for turn-by-turn instructions. Michael follows those directions faithfully. Michael: “It says make a right.” 

Dwight: “It can’t mean that. There’s a lake there!” 

Michael: “I think it knows where it’s going.” 

Dwight: “This is the lake!” 

Michael: “The machine knows.” 

And of course Michael drives straight into the lake. 

This brings me to my second piece of advice: if you are in front of a lake, and a machine tells you to drive into the lake, don’t do it. I realize this is probably a pretty obvious fable about artificial intelligence and the potential for cognitive surrender to technology. At this point, I should also tell you that I wrote this talk myself. Writing is a form of thinking and not a communications transaction; it’s a craft which requires precise judgment and rewards patient reflection. 

One of the most compelling things about this lakeside journey you’re on is that you get to create your own education. Thinking for yourself doesn’t just mean challenging what may seem like received knowledge, and it doesn’t just mean doing your own work– although you should absolutely do that. It also means investing in your own educational fitness– which can be harder than quick alternatives. Or, as a friend once said to me, if you want to get in shape, you can’t send a machine to work out at the gym for you. Thinking for yourself is quiet, slow, and humble, but it stays with you forever. 

But of course, there is an even larger story to tell. In his recent encyclical Magnifica Humanitas, speaking of technological transformation, Pope Leo reminds us of the need to safeguard our humanity. But what does that mean? In brief, we are called to combat systematic inequality, alienation, and violence– which technologies can accelerate. “In the technocratic paradigm,” he writes, “the fullness of life is equated with having more, reducing weakness, eliminating uncertainty, and exerting total control. When efficiency becomes the ultimate measure of value, human beings are tempted to see themselves as a project to be optimized rather than persons called to relationship and communion” (112). 

At Holy Cross, you are not at a hyperscale data center. You are not a project to be optimized. At Holy Cross, you are an individual, invited to take part in a community which cherishes you and calls you to fearless inquiry, relationship and belonging. 

You have the power to design a future which is more just, more peaceful, and which is marked by care for each other and for our shared home. 

This is serious work. But it is also joyful. So have fun, identify questions worth asking, share the good company of friends and mentors, and dwell in uncertainty. Write your own sentences and navigate using your human senses. And most of all think for yourself. 

Once again, please accept my most sincere welcome into the Holy Cross community, which is yours now too. You belong here and you will always have a home here. 

It is now my pleasure to introduce two of your classmates, Megan and Kevin who will share with you some of the many achievements of the class of 2030. 

Thank you.