I was struck this Pentecost by the close alignment between this part of the church calendar and the ongoing graduation season (this is almost certainly because I have two kids graduating this year, one from college and one from high school). For the disciples, Christ’s Ascension marked the end of their period of formation and training, and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost was their sending forth into what comes next. Between the tongues of fire on their heads (like fiery graduation caps) and the recitation of a long list of names that are mostly meaningless to the majority of the audience (“Parthians, Medes and Elamites … Phrygia and Pamphylia”), Pentecost really did bear more than a passing resemblance to a graduation ceremony. This parallel has led me to reflect on how Jesus’ final words to his followers serve as a sort of commencement address for the early church, and, by extension, for all of us.
In my years as a professor, I sat through more than a dozen graduations, and while it was always nice to see my students walk across the stage, I don’t remember who any of the commencement speakers were or anything they said. Generally speaking, they were cliche-riddled slogs. The irony here is that in my composition courses I used a variety of graduation speeches to teach the rhetorical triangle. We’d analyze how the speaker attempted to connect to their various audiences (the students, the parents, the administration) using appeals to authority, logic and emotion. Students seemed to enjoy the lesson, in part because we’d look at speeches by celebrities they knew, and partly because when they’re done well, graduation speeches can actually be quite effective and moving.
Just the other day The Athletic reposted an essay on a viral commencement address by the tennis player Roger Federer, and even though it was over a year old it was still the most clicked-on piece in their daily newsletter for multiple days in a row. At this time of year, people seem to be looking for words of wisdom, which is an impulse I totally understand! Graduations are times of transition, when people are feeling unsure about what comes next, so the idea that a successful person can provide us with a clear vision for how to get from here (confusion and anxiety) to there (clarity and peace of mind) is entirely compelling.
Whether or not we can gain any kind of lasting wisdom or insight from even the most well-crafted 20-minute speech is debatable, but even so, I have a few personal favorites. There is George Saunders’s 2013 speech at Syracuse University, on the need to be kind; John Green’s 2013 address at Butler University, on ignoring your lawn (and on the importance of empathy); and, of course, David Foster Wallace’s 2005 Kenyon College “This is Water” speech, which reminds us to pay attention and not rely on our default assumptions. I regularly used this speech as part of the final lesson in my Senior Seminar, and even though I taught it for 10 straight years I never tired of unpacking it with a roomful of engaged students.
I incorporated these speeches into my courses because I hoped to pass along some parting wisdom to my students, particularly the ones who were graduating. This impulse is, I think, at the heart of the commencement address, and it’s what I find myself thinking about as I read Jesus’ last words to his disciples. What message did he want to impart to his closest friends, the ones who had been following and learning from him for three straight years, in his final moments with them?
For the disciples, Christ’s Ascension marked the end of their period of formation and training, and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost was their sending forth into what comes next.
Across the four Gospels, we don’t actually get a lot of direct quotes from Jesus after his resurrection, but there are two things he repeatedly says that align pretty closely with standard elements of a commencement address: a reassurance and a charge. First, Jesus tells his disciples, over and over, across the Gospels, “Peace be with you!” and “Do not be afraid!” He knows they are scared, not just of his return from death, but of what they will need to do once he does finally leave them. His message of encouragement is the essential first step, and lays the groundwork for what follows.
After these words of comfort, he gives them a clear directive. In Mark, Jesus says, “Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved; whoever does not believe will be condemned.” This message is echoed in Matthew: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”
Luke provides a longer account of what Jesus said to his followers after the resurrection, but his final words in the Acts of the Apostles are very similar to what we see in the other synoptic Gospels. Moments before his ascension, Jesus tells his disciples, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”
As per usual, John’s account is different. We do still get an account of Jesus commissioning his disciples: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you. … Receive the holy Spirit.” But because this is our most literary Gospel, we also get a few detailed scenes of Jesus interacting with specific people (if this really were a commencement address, these kinds of memorable anecdotes would usually come earlier in the speech). First we get his moment with “doubting Thomas,” followed by him telling the seven disciples out in their fishing boat to cast their nets again (including the delightful detail of Peter jumping “lightly clad … into the sea”), and finally we have him telling Peter to “Feed my lambs … Tend my sheep … Feed my sheep.”
He then tells Peter, in very evocative language, “When you were younger you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” This is just about the last thing Jesus says in the Gospels. The Gospel writer follows it up with an interpretation of what Jesus meant — “He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God” (meaning Peter’s own crucifixion) — and this gloss makes sense and is probably true, but like any good anecdote in a commencement address it is, or at least can be, open to more than one interpretation.
Jesus’ final message to his followers, to us as well as the people who knew him intimately, is to not be afraid, to accept the gift of the Holy Spirit, and to go out and spread his message with the rest of the world. But in this memorable and somewhat enigmatic prophecy to Peter, he is also telling us something about the cost and nature of discipleship. To truly love and follow Christ means we must surrender our will and live in service of others. This might entail letting go of what we envisioned for ourselves, but there is a kind of freedom that comes from conforming ourselves to the will of God.
Immediately after this exchange with Peter, Jesus’ actual last words in the Gospels are a response to Peter’s question about what will happen to the beloved disciple: “What if I want him to remain until I come? What concern is it of yours? You follow me.” Jesus is often reassuring, and often elusive, but like all good teachers he is blunt and direct when he needs to be. I love that his final words in the Gospel are both a gentle rebuke of the constantly erring Peter, and an unequivocal directive: “You follow me.”
The best commencement addresses leave the audience with some idea that needs to be wrestled with and processed in the days and months to come; Christ the Teacher’s final words have me reflecting on how we truly do not need to be afraid, even though he is quite clear about what he desires for (and from) us, and what this kind of fidelity might cost.
I know that as I sit through both of my kids’ impending graduation ceremonies, hoping for (though not expecting) a moment of insight from the speakers, at least part of my mind will be there with Peter and Jesus on the seashore (graduation ceremonies are excellent times for daydreaming, or perhaps we should say for employing our Ignatian imagination). The best commencement addresses leave the audience with some idea that needs to be wrestled with and processed in the days and months to come; Christ the Teacher’s final words have me reflecting on how we truly do not need to be afraid, even though he is quite clear about what he desires for (and from) us, and what this kind of fidelity might cost.
