A battleship was at exercise in dark and stormy weather. The proud captain, neatly attired, chest adorned with medals, was standing on the bridge issuing commands and surveying the performance of his team. The lookout whose job was to be aware of danger suddenly spots a light from another ship on the starboard side. He informs the captain of the presence of the ship to which the captain asks is it steady or is it moving.

“Steady, Captain” comes the reply.

The captain keenly aware that the two ships were now on a collision course ordered the lookout to signal to the other ship:

“Change course 20 degrees. We are on a collision course.”

The signal from the other ship comes back: “It is advisable for you to change course.”

The captain signals back: “I am a captain in the US Navy and have commanded this nation’s finest battleships over the course of 30 years. Change course 20 degrees.”

Back comes the response: “I am an Eagle of Boston College, Class of 2020, Keeper of the Ignatian flame. You are the one who needs to change course 20 degrees.”

The captain was furious and drops any pretense of politeness. He sends back another message: “I am a 50,000-pound battleship. You will not survive a collision. For the last time, change course!”

Silence fills the air and then back comes the final message from the Eagle: “I am a lighthouse. It’s your decision.”

In the interest of full disclosure, that story did not actually happen. That joke has been around for quite some time but I am very confident that I am the first to make that lighthouse keeper a Boston College graduate. We’ll get to that in a moment.

Good morning! Thank you very much Father Leahy, Chairman Fish, Father Keenan, fellow members of the Board of Trustees, members of the faculty and staff and honored guests, and distinguished alumni. Thank you for your presence today as we come to celebrate this extraordinary class of 2020 and their families who have traveled from all over the world to be part of this long-awaited day.

The truth is that the work of this university over the last year and a half was never going to be fully complete until this class of 2020 was reconvened. There has been a gap in our memory of this class until we saw you again.

It has been quite an honor to have formed such a wonderful relationship with this class over the years, to have watched your trajectory during your time at The Heights and to see your successes beyond. From the time I had the privilege to be your Convocation speaker when you first arrived at Boston College, I have come to call many of you a friend and have been considered your friend in return. It occurs to me that the only thing I could do to harm that friendship is by going on too long with my remarks. Wisdom is a gift but so is brevity and I will err on the side of the latter today so that you can continue on with the celebration. And as I walked around the campus last night, I did notice that you have indeed been celebrating your return to The Heights!

The traditional role of the commencement speaker is to offer words of counsel and advice. But there is nothing traditional about this commencement and besides I’m not convinced that this is the time for that. The fact is that you have been out in the world for some time now and that world is a lot different than the one you thought you were going to enter. A global pandemic, an economic meltdown, and a polarizing political culture were three convergent storms we could not have anticipated. While this has been challenging for all of us, it has been especially challenging for you because the world that you entered changed dramatically just as you were stepping into it. It is has required you to be resilient, to stand strong, to have faith, to still serve in spite of your own disappointments. So, no my friends a class that has demonstrated all of those noble qualities does not to hear words of well-intended advice that you have almost certainly heard before. But I will end my remarks shortly with a small request of you.

Many of you quietly wondered whether your sudden departure from this campus in March of 2020 was the end of your time at the university. This can’t be how it ends, you might have thought. But I want to assure you that it is not. It was never going to end that way. And it’s not just because we were determined to make sure you had this day. It’s because the Boston College experience is never measured in a specific time or space but over the span of a lifetime. Because that is how long it takes to realize just how treasured your time here really was; that you developed friendships here that you could have never found anywhere else and they will be your anchor and your compass for the rest of your life. You will be in each other’s weddings, be godparents to one another’s children, take some great entrepreneurial risk together, celebrate one another’s successes and stand shoulder to shoulder in times of uncertainty. As time and life moves forward, I suspect you’ll see that your time at Boston College was really only just the beginning.

As a practical matter, the lighthouse is no longer necessary. Technology has rendered these architectural marvels nearly obsolete and yet still they endure. The reason for this, as near as I can tell, is that the lighthouse exists now not to help us navigate the sea but to help us navigate humanity as a perpetual reminder of how we ought to be with one another and to one another.

Lighthouses are perhaps the most selfless structure that humankind has ever created. It serves no purpose other than to be of service to another, to simply be a beacon especially in times of uncertainty and chaos. It is faithful, steadfast, resilient, and humble. It seeks neither reward nor recognition. It is not concerned about one’s race, gender or faith expression. It neither qualifies your distress nor renders judgment on your uncertainty. Nor does it care about your title, where you stand on a specific social issue, or who you voted for in the last election. The lighthouse is only concerned about protecting your journey and in doing so sees only our common humanity.

You Class of 2020 have been the embodiment of the lighthouse. Even now, as we try to find safer harbor, you continue to remind of us of the lessons of the lighthouses. We’ve been reminded of the importance of family and friendship and the common humanity that connects us; we better understand that God’s greatest gifts to us, whether that be the miracle that is life, the sanctuary that is this planet or the national treasure that is democracy, those gifts will only be as strong as our willingness to protect them; you’ve reminded us that the seemingly everyday people, the ones who have stood on the front lines of a pandemic like our friends in the School of Nursing are amongst the most authentic heroes to be found in society today; you’ve reminded us that each day offers us an opportunity to be a lighthouse for another and to find one for ourselves. For as the Irish proverb reminds us; it is in the shelter of each other that the people live.

During this pandemic I lost a kind and gracious man in John Sykes who once provided me shelter when I was a young boy. John was a human lighthouse and because he was, I eventually found my way to Boston College which has been something of a home ever since. And now it is the same for my son Quinn.

I suspect some of your own lighthouses have joined you here today. Lighthouses are indeed all around us.

It is said that your commencement speaker is your last college professor and that this address is your last lecture, and if that is true then the following is your last assignment: you have to let the lighthouses know just how important they are to you. Write to them, call them, text them and if they are no longer with us then offer a quiet prayer of gratitude to them. And your assignment is due today for tomorrow is not promised to us.

There nearly 23,000 lighthouses standing in the world today but on May 18, 2020 we conferred 2332 more. Because the most powerful lighthouses in the world are the human ones. That leads me to my request of you:

Let your life be a lighthouse. Let your life be a lighthouse for this university that treasures you; Let your life be a lighthouse for the community that raised you; Let your life be a lighthouse for a world that summons you. Let your life be a lighthouse for your family that loves you. Let your life be a lighthouse for a life that needs you. In small ways and in big ways and on each day, let your life be a lighthouse!

Thank you, Boston College Class of 2020, and may God continue to bless you.