Congratulations graduates, families, friends, faculty and staff. When I learned that I would have the honor of speaking to you today, I was forced to confront a dilemma鈥擨 neither knew why I was chosen for the Distinguished Laetare Medal nor what I would say about it. What I did know was that this honor was not for the reason so kindly communicated by my own friends and family. I did not earn it. I am too quick to speak, too slow to hear, too strident. I鈥檝e missed鈥� even ignored鈥�-opportunities for kindness and compassion.
In my struggle to find meaning in this honor, I realized a critical mistake in my approach. I鈥檇 hoped for guidance without praying for it.
My prayers for clarity began as I left a hospital where I visited an ailing family member, one imminently facing his mortality. While in prayer for him and for a better understanding of my assignment here, I drove past the church in his community where we鈥檇 celebrated many sacraments during my earlier visits there. I noticed for the first time that the church hall was named for Thea Bowman. This revelation felt somehow connected to my prayer鈥攂ut how?
As I began to learn about Mary Thea Bowman, there were profound ways that our life stories converged and very clear divergences, as well. And, within my quest to know more about her life, I came to better understand my role today.
Around the same age that I, as a young girl, declared to my father that I would become a lawyer when I grew up, she declared to hers that she would become Catholic. And, at 15, when I was most interested in fashion trends and popularity, she was called to enter the convent of Franciscan Sisters of La Crosse, Wisconsin.
Sister Thea, as she was affectionately known, proceeded to live a life filled with service. As she opened her whole self to others (including her identity as a black, Catholic woman), she unlocked and embraced the fullness of those around her. She was, at her core, a bridge builder across human-made divides. This would not prove to be my path鈥擨 did become a lawyer, though. But, our stories did somehow converge.
When Sister Thea entered her 50s she learned that she had breast cancer. So did I. She was also the recipient of this remarkable medal. But, her medal was presented posthumously. She died at 43, shortly after the announcement.
With no knowledge of Mary Thea Bowman, when I was 52, I was allowed a pivot. My cancer woke me and led me to Feeding America where I鈥檝e been blessed to be of service and to serve alongside extraordinary people. People who, even in the face of a global health pandemic with significant risk to their own health, chose to provide meals to nearly 60 million people in 2020 alone. And, boy did they provide-6.7 billion meals. And, my work at Feeding America has led me here.
So, here I am. Isaiah 6:8 put to music by Dan Schutte rings in my heart and ears today. 鈥淗ere I am Lord. Is it I Lord? I have heard you calling in the night. I will go Lord. If you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart.鈥�
I am here. What will it mean to the world that you are here too? What will we, together, choose to be in the world?
I鈥檓 called to close my comments, with words that Sister Thea was known to have said. My hope is that these might be the ones she would鈥檝e chosen, had she been here physically today. I think she knew that at moments like this we set superhuman expectations for ourselves. She knew, in ways that I still struggle that perfection is neither attainable nor, apparently, required.
In her words:
I think the difference between me and some people is that I'm content to do my little bit. Sometimes people think they have to do big things in order to make a change. But if each one would light a candle we'd have a tremendous light.
Let鈥檚 go light a candle!
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