Jan. 23, 2012
Rev. Philip L. Boroughs, S.J.
On behalf of the faculty and staff, and as your new president, I would like to welcome you back to campus for your final spring semester. I realize that I am not Father McFarland with whom many of you have enjoyed a significant relationship, nor will I take his place in your affection. However, I do hope that in the semester ahead, we will grow in friendship and mutual respect, committed to our shared mission at the College of the Holy Cross, and celebrating the milestones that mark our journey together.
On Friday of last week I spoke briefly to those students and alums who had participated in the weeklong Community and Public Leadership Workshop. Many of the participants were members of your class, and at lunch I asked them what they would like me to say to you during this convocation. I hope that in what follows, they will recognize that I took to heart several of their suggestions. Just before leaving the table one senior remarked, “Father, we are about to begin a process similar to the one that you have just completed in coming to Holy Cross. Share with us what you have learned.” And so I will. I am going to begin with a reflection about the end of that process and then work backward to this moment in your lives.
About 12 years ago I was visiting home and running an errand with my dad. Out of the blue, he told me that he had picked two of the three Scriptural readings that he wanted read at his funeral and he wanted to share them with me. I was a bit surprised at this turn in the conversation and asked him what had occasioned this reflection. He said that lately he had been going to a lot of funerals for friends, and after listening to various readings, he identified a few that meant something to him. After we arrived home, I dutifully wrote down his selections and put them in my Bible for safekeeping, and frankly didn’t really want think more about it. A few years later, however, I found them again and, as his health was declining, decided to ask him what these specific passages meant to him.
I am only going to reflect on the first one today, an undoubtedly familiar passage from the Book of Ecclesiastes which begins, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted…”and it goes on “a time to break down and a time to build up; a time to weep and a time to laugh…” I think you probably have heard this before. My dad told me that this passage had become increasingly meaningful to him as he neared the end of his life and could look back over the various seasons that had marked his 84 years. He had come to realize that to be ready to receive the blessings of each new season, it is essential to surrender the blessings of the last. If he held too tightly to the old ones, he found that he wasn’t free to receive what the new season offered. Further, he said that the blessings you surrender aren’t replaced in the new season, but rather new blessings enter your life and these blessings have their own giftedness and meaning. He then walked me through the seasons of his life demonstrating what he meant: how he and my mother really enjoyed their first year of marriage getting to know each other more intimately, only to have to let go of this private time a year later to welcome my older sister into their lives. He described how the seasons changed with the arrival of each of the next four of us, and then changed again as one by one we left home. Later, after adjusting to the blessing of being empty nesters and finding a new way of living together after 35 years of having children in the home, my parents began welcoming grandchildren into their lives, and a new season began. And finally when our mother’s advancing Alzheimers slowly changed their relationship forever, we their children so supported our parents through that challenging time that new blessings were evident to my dad. To live well, he said, you can’t hold life too tightly, but have to surrender what it asks and receive what it offers as it is given.
My dad’s wisdom carried me through my recent transition coming to Holy Cross. Nine years before, I found it very hard to leave the beauty of Seattle, my family and old friends and move to Georgetown. Then, this year, I found it challenging to leave Washington, D.C. and my friends at Georgetown to move here. But I have learned that my dad is right; letting go well of one blessing has opened me up to new blessings I couldn’t have imagined. And as transitioning is a consistent part of our lives, and one that you already know, it is important to do it intentionally.
I know that this isn’t a commencement speech and that you aren’t ready to let go of anything yet. But it seems to me that if you are to engage this process thoughtfully in May, it is critical now that you consciously acknowledge, cherish and savor the blessings you are enjoying right in the present. It would be very easy to remain so unreflectively busy on every level of your life this semester that you neither truly recognize nor celebrate the blessings of this season until you have to let them go. And so, rather than live with regrets in May, it is crucial that you live this semester with greater attention to what you have been given in the here and now. To do this well is going to require a certain asceticism.
When I decided to accept the invitation to come to Holy Cross, I knew that I would need a semester to transition. For eight years I had been working 70-hour weeks and I needed time to regroup my energies and transition with greater care than I had done in the past. I spent some time thinking about those who were significant friends and with whom I wanted to spend time. I chose to lighten my typical commitments and consciously slow down so that I would be able to engage others more thoughtfully. I made a general plan to visit family and friends, especially those I hadn’t seen in some time, while I had some time off. And I tried to be organized enough so that I actually would do what I hoped I would do, and would also have unstructured time to let some events unfold as they would. I particularly wanted some spontaneous time with my nieces and nephews. I don’t keep a journal regularly, but at times found myself writing in order to process my feelings and remember particular moments; and as I do every day, I spent time in prayer to grow in thankfulness. I have found that gratitude is a virtue that deepens with age.
During this time I traveled to see family and Jesuit friends in the Pacific Northwest, cousins in Scotland and London, friends in Dublin and Galway; I made my annual retreat in Florida and spent a week in North Carolina over Thanksgiving. When this wonderful time ended, I looked back and realized that I not only enjoyed every aspect of this transition, but that each part of this journey was better than I could have imagined. I think this was true because I had invested time and energy in putting it together, and I had never done that before with such care.
And so my advice to you will seem rather obvious. Try to do less this semester so that you can enjoy it more. Identify those who are most important in your life here, and make sure you have time with them. Take advantage of academic, religious and social opportunities that the College offers while you still can. If you still haven’t made a retreat, do so. It will help you to think through this transition. The real blessing of transitions is that they can help you to savor and not just experience life. Savoring suggests that we aren’t “consumers of grace,” that is, running from one new experience to another without really allowing the present to enter into our memory or gratitude. Savoring friendships and experiences leads us to reflect on them, to cherish them, to let them put their imprint on our minds and hearts so that they become a place where we can return in the future for solace and blessing. And savoring the blessings of life often leads us to the Giver of all gifts who walks with us in all our blessings and challenges.
For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born, a time to die;
A time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to cast away.
Before you cast away, please take time to savor what is here. You won’t regret it.