I saw a photo on Wednesday that I know I’ll never forget. Maybe you saw it too; it was taken by a Star Tribune photographer. A mom is sprinting barefoot down the middle of the street, her shoes in her hands, toward Annunciation Church. Desperate to find her child, terrified that she’ll never hold her beloved son or daughter again. Every parent’s worst nightmare, which we shove away and out of mind as best we can. Until the nightmare becomes the reality from which there is no escape.
I saw another photo on Wednesday that I hope I’ll never forget. It was taken by our colleague Brandon Woller on move-in day. A first-year student had arrived from Colorado, excited and nervous. Beside her, her mom is beaming. Tired from a long day of travel, but proud of her daughter, eager to see her flourish in this new place among new people. Hopeful for the future.
Can we reconcile those photos, or does the first render the second irrelevant, a momentary and superficial distraction from the pain all around us? How can the hopefulness of our incoming students withstand the sheer awfulness of what we all have absorbed in the past few days? How can the excitement of a new school year withstand the death and traumatization of young children in south Minneapolis? Or Gaza? Or Ukraine? Or Sudan?
We emerged from a very emotional Mass in our chapel on Wednesday and went directly to greet new students and their families. In our chapel, the grief was unmistakable. A few yards away, families unloading their cars had good reason for excitement, for joy, for hope. Sometimes the whiplash feels unavoidable.
But what if it’s not whiplash at all? What if all the amazing triumphs we’ll experience with our students this year – the formation of friendships, the deepening of faith, the discovery of scientific truths, the creation of art, the development of leadership, the gaining of technical expertise, the cultivation of virtue, the sharpening of critical thinking, the growth of confidence – are direct responses to a world that sometimes seems hard-wired to define the human condition as pointless and cruel? No matter the headlines, we will not deny this generation of students the chance to experience meaning and purpose in their lives.
As a new year begins, I can’t ignore the suffering around me, but I can’t surrender to it either. This is sacred work to which we’ve been called.
We live in a broken world, and we will hold fast to hope. We will pray for peace. We will work for justice. And we will love our students.
