Headmaster Byron Hulsey delivered the following sermon on Monday, May 23, 2022, in St. Andrew’s Chapel before the tradition of Senior Shake.
Late last July as part of our summer reunion for young alumni, members of the class of 2015 gathered in front of Griffin to dedicate a tree in memory of their beloved classmate, Christian Magnani. The most memorable and haunting moment of that precious time together was a comment that Christian’s, father, Steven, made about his son’s troubled journey after graduating seven years ago: “Christian was searching for Woodberry in the world beyond, and he never found it.” As we prepare for the senior shake and dive into commencement week and a heart-felt goodbye for the class of 2022, let’s take some time to reflect on what this place means and how, even when it’s over, the experience has prepared you for the path ahead, and how each of you can be a light for goodness and decency in our broken world.
For many days now the members of the class of 2022 have been saying goodbye. We should admit that it’s not easy. Whether it’s through final assignments or senior distinction projects or last games wearing a Tiger jersey, a last musical performance or time on stage, a final seated advisory meal or time to wait a table, it’s not easy to say goodbye. It’s hard for many of us on the faculty, too. We’ve tried in our own clumsy ways to know, challenge, and love you, and our emotional investment in each of you and into the class makes it tough to say goodbye, even as we know it’s time and you’re ready.
The good part of this last week is that you’ll be together. The connectedness of the class and the deep and abiding love you have for each other will make these last days more meaningful. But what will you do when it’s over? Some of my loneliest times in life have come the morning after a big rite of passage: graduation at Woodberry and getting home after beach week; graduation from UVa and the morning after everyone had gone and I felt so weirdly alone; the morning after my best friend’s wedding a year later when there were no more parties to enjoy and friends to see. These feelings of loneliness are hard, and we’re tempted, like Christian Magnani was, to look for the grooved comfort of Woodberry Forest in the world beyond, and realize that it can be so hard to find.
I’ve been asking a number of you what you’ll miss the most. For some it’s the river or the Dick Gym or the Fir Tree or the golf course or seated meals. More than a few have mentioned your friends. One of you said “I’ll miss knowing everyone, and being known by everyone.” You’ll miss Hale and Collier and Erb, Leahy, Broaddus, and Mills and so many others. Of course you know what you won’t miss and are ready to leave behind, but when you’re forced to reflect, you’ll likely agree with me that you’ll miss this place in part because it was hard and you were humbled here. We’ve all learned how to come up short and get up and try again. You bombed a test you thought you’d aced; you came up short in a game you desperately wanted to win; you lost a friend by saying something offensive; you were cut from a team you really wanted to make. I agree with Zadie Smith, who once observed “it hurts just as much as it is worth.”
We’ve all been humbled here. It’s part of the school’s DNA. The humility that flows through the experience of Friday night study hall and Saturday classes has tempered us because we’ve learned to live by enduring values of character and integrity and discipline and respect; you’ve learned to work hard, build your character, and take care of each other. By design you’ve done it shoulder-to-shoulder and elbow-to-elbow with your friends and the unflinching support of your teachers, coaches, and advisers. Through the doorway to humility, you’ve earned some enduring confidence. You know you’re fundamentally different now than when you came. Most of you know deep in your gut that you matter here, and if you’re being honest, what you likely fear the most is that at least at the start of what is next you won’t matter as much to others as you have meant to us at Woodberry Forest.
Luckily there’s good news in the midst of of waking up all alone. While you might be sorely tempted to search for visible signs of your future worth through fraternity membership, a popular girlfriend, a new car, or a vacation at the most expensive resort, I’d urge you to remember that those golden calves are fleeting and illusory. Instead I’d encourage you to take some time to soak in the feeling of being alone. Be courageous enough to scrape away the layers of worldly satisfaction that come through class rank and test scores and college admissions or wealth and title and power and prestige. Instead, open yourselves to the utter miracle of being you and the golden opportunity that each of us has to do a little good in the world beyond the Tiger Nation.
Tonight’s Gospel reading is taken from the last days of Jesus’ life before the Crucifiction. He knows He is headed to a brutal death and that He’ll be with the disciples just a little longer. He says definitively, “I am going away,” but He adds mysteriously, “I am coming to you.” For the class of 2022, the day-to-day physicality of the Woodberry community is going away, but the meaning of the Tiger Nation is forever coming back to you in spirit. Be not afraid, and during those dark nights of the soul, remember what was engraved upon you here, through triumph and disaster, through good times and bad. Flowing forth from the enduring love and decency of friends and teachers, this place will never leave you. By remembering the truths of integrity and kindness and respect and brotherhood, you will be emboldened for the path ahead and you will never be lonely, even when you are alone.
Earlier in the Gospel according to John, Jesus tells his disciples that “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” We’ve tried to instill in each of you a distinctly Woodberry version of the way, the truth, and the life, and I do believe that our version of the way, the truth, and the life can be fortifying, even when we are alone. But of course we here at Woodberry are deeply human and therefore broken and limited and sometimes mistaken and occasionally just completely wrong.
One of my favorite places at the University of Texas in Austin is the south entrance of the Main Building that bears the inscription, “Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” The older I get the more convinced I am that we humans will never have a secure and lasting hold on the Truth. It will always be contested. But we know through the undeserved gift of God’s grace and through the life and death and resurrection of His son, Jesus Christ, the Truth that we are His creation and that we matter and are good in His sight. Through that good news we are called upon to be a light for others in the world’s darkness.
Not long ago Pope Francis reflected on trees, just like the one planted in memory of Christian and the many magnificent trees that add to the abundant beauty of our campus. Pope Francis makes the obvious point: any healthy tree has deep roots and outstretched branches. Both are necessary, and a life-giving embodiment of the Truth. Pope Francis makes clear that deep roots reflect the enduring confidence that comes through deep humility, a heart-felt recognition that we are all broken and need to be made whole. An unflinching regard for our deep roots generates a life-giving connection to our past and the men and women who’ve shaped us and formed us. It has provided us with the belief that in the words of Pope Francis, “we are all children of one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”
Mindful of our deep roots, we are strengthened for the path ahead. Wherever you go and whatever you do, your deep roots empower you to be a blessing to others, to give life in the midst of loss and decline, to be for others a beacon of joy, kindness, and compassion. Deep roots and outstretched branches: I pray that the awesome class of 2022 will embrace the opportunity to be a tree of life for others, and through it all remember that you are always welcome home at Woodberry Forest. Amen.
What Matters Most 