Remarks of President Barack Obama
Notre Dame Commencement
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Notre Dame, Indiana
Thank you, Father Jenkins for that generous introduction. You are doing an outstanding job as president of this fine institution, and your continued and courageous commitment to honest, thoughtful dialogue is an inspiration to us all.
Good afternoon Father Hesburgh, Notre Dame trustees, faculty,
family, friends, and the class of 2009. I am honored to be here today,
and grateful to all of you for allowing me to be part of your
graduation.
I want to thank you for this honorary degree. I know it has not been
without controversy. I don't know if you're aware of this, but these
honorary degrees are apparently pretty hard to come by. So far I'm only
1 for 2 as President. Father Hesburgh is 150 for 150. I guess that's
better. Father Ted, after the ceremony, maybe you can give me some
pointers on how to boost my average.
I also want to congratulate the class of 2009 for all your
accomplishments. And since this is Notre Dame, I mean both in the
classroom and in the competitive arena. We all know about this
university's proud and storied football team, but I also hear that
Notre Dame holds the largest outdoor 5-on-5 basketball tournament in
the world - Bookstore Basketball.
Now this excites me. I want to congratulate the winners of this
year's tournament, a team by the name of "Hallelujah Holla Back." Well
done. Though I have to say, I am personally disappointed that the
"Barack O'Ballers" didn't pull it out. Next year, if you need a 6'2"
forward with a decent jumper, you know where I live.
Every one of you should be proud of what you have achieved at this
institution. One hundred and sixty three classes of Notre Dame
graduates have sat where you are today. Some were here during years
that simply rolled into the next without much notice or fanfare -
periods of relative peace and prosperity that required little by way of
sacrifice or struggle.
You, however, are not getting off that easy. Your class has come of
age at a moment of great consequence for our nation and the world - a
rare inflection point in history where the size and scope of the
challenges before us require that we remake our world to renew its
promise; that we align our deepest values and commitments to the
demands of a new age. It is a privilege and a responsibility afforded
to few generations - and a task that you are now called to fulfill.
This is the generation that must find a path back to prosperity and
decide how we respond to a global economy that left millions behind
even before this crisis hit - an economy where greed and short-term
thinking were too often rewarded at the expense of fairness, and
diligence, and an honest day's work.
We must decide how to save God's creation from a changing climate
that threatens to destroy it. We must seek peace at a time when there
are those who will stop at nothing to do us harm, and when weapons in
the hands of a few can destroy the many. And we must find a way to
reconcile our ever-shrinking world with its ever-growing diversity -
diversity of thought, of culture, and of belief.
In short, we must find a way to live together as one human family.
It is this last challenge that I'd like to talk about today. For the
major threats we face in the 21st century - whether it's global
recession or violent extremism; the spread of nuclear weapons or
pandemic disease - do not discriminate. They do not recognize borders.
They do not see color. They do not target specific ethnic groups.
Moreover, no one person, or religion, or nation can meet these
challenges alone. Our very survival has never required greater
cooperation and understanding among all people from all places than at
this moment in history.
Unfortunately, finding that common ground - recognizing that our
fates are tied up, as Dr. King said, in a "single garment of destiny" -
is not easy. Part of the problem, of course, lies in the imperfections
of man - our selfishness, our pride, our stubbornness, our
acquisitiveness, our insecurities, our egos; all the cruelties large
and small that those of us in the Christian tradition understand to be
rooted in original sin. We too often seek advantage over others. We
cling to outworn prejudice and fear those who are unfamiliar. Too many
of us view life only through the lens of immediate self-interest and
crass materialism; in which the world is necessarily a zero-sum game.
The strong too often dominate the weak, and too many of those with
wealth and with power find all manner of justification for their own
privilege in the face of poverty and injustice. And so, for all our
technology and scientific advances, we see around the globe violence
and want and strife that would seem sadly familiar to those in ancient
times.
We know these things; and hopefully one of the benefits of the
wonderful education you have received is that you have had time to
consider these wrongs in the world, and grown determined, each in your
own way, to right them. And yet, one of the vexing things for those of
us interested in promoting greater understanding and cooperation among
people is the discovery that even bringing together persons of good
will, men and women of principle and purpose, can be difficult.
The soldier and the lawyer may both love this country with equal
passion, and yet reach very different conclusions on the specific steps
needed to protect us from harm. The gay activist and the evangelical
pastor may both deplore the ravages of HIV/AIDS, but find themselves
unable to bridge the cultural divide that might unite their efforts.
Those who speak out against stem cell research may be rooted in
admirable conviction about the sacredness of life, but so are the
parents of a child with juvenile diabetes who are convinced that their
son's or daughter's hardships can be relieved.
The question, then, is how do we work through these conflicts? Is it
possible for us to join hands in common effort? As citizens of a
vibrant and varied democracy, how do we engage in vigorous debate? How
does each of us remain firm in our principles, and fight for what we
consider right, without demonizing those with just as strongly held
convictions on the other side?
Nowhere do these questions come up more powerfully than on the issue of abortion.
As I considered the controversy surrounding my visit here, I was
reminded of an encounter I had during my Senate campaign, one that I
describe in a book I wrote called The Audacity of Hope. A few days
after I won the Democratic nomination, I received an email from a
doctor who told me that while he voted for me in the primary, he had a
serious concern that might prevent him from voting for me in the
general election. He described himself as a Christian who was strongly
pro-life, but that's not what was preventing him from voting for me.
What bothered the doctor was an entry that my campaign staff had
posted on my website - an entry that said I would fight "right-wing
ideologues who want to take away a woman's right to choose." The doctor
said that he had assumed I was a reasonable person, but that if I truly
believed that every pro-life individual was simply an ideologue who
wanted to inflict suffering on women, then I was not very reasonable.
He wrote, "I do not ask at this point that you oppose abortion, only
that you speak about this issue in fair-minded words."
Fair-minded words.
After I read the doctor's letter, I wrote back to him and thanked
him. I didn't change my position, but I did tell my staff to change the
words on my website. And I said a prayer that night that I might extend
the same presumption of good faith to others that the doctor had
extended to me. Because when we do that - when we open our hearts and
our minds to those who may not think like we do or believe what we do -
that's when we discover at least the possibility of common ground.
That's when we begin to say, "Maybe we won't agree on abortion, but
we can still agree that this is a heart-wrenching decision for any
woman to make, with both moral and spiritual dimensions.
So let's work together to reduce the number of women seeking
abortions by reducing unintended pregnancies, and making adoption more
available, and providing care and support for women who do carry their
child to term. Let's honor the conscience of those who disagree with
abortion, and draft a sensible conscience clause, and make sure that
all of our health care policies are grounded in clear ethics and sound
science, as well as respect for the equality of women."
Understand - I do not suggest that the debate surrounding abortion
can or should go away. No matter how much we may want to fudge it -
indeed, while we know that the views of most Americans on the subject
are complex and even contradictory - the fact is that at some level,
the views of the two camps are irreconcilable. Each side will continue
to make its case to the public with passion and conviction. But surely
we can do so without reducing those with differing views to caricature.
Open hearts. Open minds. Fair-minded words.
It's a way of life that has always been the Notre Dame tradition.
Father Hesburgh has long spoken of this institution as both a
lighthouse and a crossroads. The lighthouse that stands apart, shining
with the wisdom of the Catholic tradition, while the crossroads is
where ".differences of culture and religion and conviction can co-exist
with friendship, civility, hospitality, and especially love." And I
want to join him and Father Jenkins in saying how inspired I am by the
maturity and responsibility with which this class has approached the
debate surrounding today's ceremony.
This tradition of cooperation and understanding is one that I
learned in my own life many years ago - also with the help of the
Catholic Church.
I was not raised in a particularly religious household, but my
mother instilled in me a sense of service and empathy that eventually
led me to become a community organizer after I graduated college. A
group of Catholic churches in Chicago helped fund an organization known
as the Developing Communities Project, and we worked to lift up South
Side neighborhoods that had been devastated when the local steel plant
closed.
It was quite an eclectic crew. Catholic and Protestant churches.
Jewish and African-American organizers. Working-class black and white
and Hispanic residents. All of us with different experiences. All of us
with different beliefs. But all of us learned to work side by side
because all of us saw in these neighborhoods other human beings who
needed our help - to find jobs and improve schools. We were bound
together in the service of others.
And something else happened during the time I spent in those
neighborhoods. Perhaps because the church folks I worked with were so
welcoming and understanding; perhaps because they invited me to their
services and sang with me from their hymnals; perhaps because I
witnessed all of the good works their faith inspired them to perform, I
found myself drawn - not just to work with the church, but to be in the
church. It was through this service that I was brought to Christ.
At the time, Cardinal Joseph Bernardin was the Archbishop of
Chicago. For those of you too young to have known him, he was a kind
and good and wise man. A saintly man. I can still remember him speaking
at one of the first organizing meetings I attended on the South Side.
He stood as both a lighthouse and a crossroads - unafraid to speak his
mind on moral issues ranging from poverty, AIDS, and abortion to the
death penalty and nuclear war. And yet, he was congenial and gentle in
his persuasion, always trying to bring people together; always trying
to find common ground. Just before he died, a reporter asked Cardinal
Bernardin about this approach to his ministry. And he said, "You can't
really get on with preaching the Gospel until you've touched minds and
hearts."
My heart and mind were touched by the words and deeds of the men and
women I worked alongside with in Chicago. And I'd like to think that we
touched the hearts and minds of the neighborhood families whose lives
we helped change. For this, I believe, is our highest calling.
You are about to enter the next phase of your life at a time of
great uncertainty. You will be called upon to help restore a free
market that is also fair to all who are willing to work; to seek new
sources of energy that can save our planet; to give future generations
the same chance that you had to receive an extraordinary education. And
whether as a person drawn to public service, or someone who simply
insists on being an active citizen, you will be exposed to more
opinions and ideas broadcast through more means of communications than
have ever existed before. You will hear talking heads scream on cable,
read blogs that claim definitive knowledge, and watch politicians
pretend to know what they're talking about. Occasionally, you may also
have the great fortune of seeing important issues debated by
well-intentioned, brilliant minds. In fact, I suspect that many of you
will be among those bright stars.
In this world of competing claims about what is right and what is
true, have confidence in the values with which you've been raised and
educated. Be unafraid to speak your mind when those values are at
stake. Hold firm to your faith and allow it to guide you on your
journey. Stand as a lighthouse.
But remember too that the ultimate irony of faith is that it
necessarily admits doubt. It is the belief in things not seen. It is
beyond our capacity as human beings to know with certainty what God has
planned for us or what He asks of us, and those of us who believe must
trust that His wisdom is greater than our own.
This doubt should not push us away from our faith. But it should
humble us. It should temper our passions, and cause us to be wary of
self-righteousness. It should compel us to remain open, and curious,
and eager to continue the moral and spiritual debate that began for so
many of you within the walls of Notre Dame. And within our vast
democracy, this doubt should remind us to persuade through reason,
through an appeal whenever we can to universal rather than parochial
principles, and most of all through an abiding example of good works,
charity, kindness, and service that moves hearts and minds.
For if there is one law that we can be most certain of, it is the
law that binds people of all faiths and no faith together. It is no
coincidence that it exists in Christianity and Judaism; in Islam and
Hinduism; in Buddhism and humanism. It is, of course, the Golden Rule -
the call to treat one another as we wish to be treated. The call to
love. To serve. To do what we can to make a difference in the lives of
those with whom we share the same brief moment on this Earth.
So many of you at Notre Dame - by the last count, upwards of 80% --
have lived this law of love through the service you've performed at
schools and hospitals; international relief agencies and local
charities. That is incredibly impressive, and a powerful testament to
this institution. Now you must carry the tradition forward. Make it a
way of life. Because when you serve, it doesn't just improve your
community, it makes you a part of your community. It breaks down walls.
It fosters cooperation. And when that happens - when people set aside
their differences to work in common effort toward a common good; when
they struggle together, and sacrifice together, and learn from one
another - all things are possible.
After all, I stand here today, as President and as an
African-American, on the 55th anniversary of the day that the Supreme
Court handed down the decision in Brown v. the Board of Education.
Brown was of course the first major step in dismantling the "separate
but equal" doctrine, but it would take a number of years and a
nationwide movement to fully realize the dream of civil rights for all
of God's children. There were freedom rides and lunch counters and
Billy clubs, and there was also a Civil Rights Commission appointed by
President Eisenhower. It was the twelve resolutions recommended by this
commission that would ultimately become law in the Civil Rights Act of
1964.
There were six members of the commission. It included five whites
and one African-American; Democrats and Republicans; two Southern
governors, the dean of a Southern law school, a Midwestern university
president, and your own Father Ted Hesburgh, President of Notre Dame.
They worked for two years, and at times, President Eisenhower had to
intervene personally since no hotel or restaurant in the South would
serve the black and white members of the commission together. Finally,
when they reached an impasse in Louisiana, Father Ted flew them all to
Notre Dame's retreat in Land O'Lakes, Wisconsin, where they eventually
overcame their differences and hammered out a final deal.
Years later, President Eisenhower asked Father Ted how on Earth he
was able to broker an agreement between men of such different
backgrounds and beliefs. And Father Ted simply said that during their
first dinner in Wisconsin, they discovered that they were all
fishermen. And so he quickly readied a boat for a twilight trip out on
the lake. They fished, and they talked, and they changed the course of
history.
I will not pretend that the challenges we face will be easy, or that
the answers will come quickly, or that all our differences and
divisions will fade happily away. Life is not that simple. It never has
been.
But as you leave here today, remember the lessons of Cardinal
Bernardin, of Father Hesburgh, of movements for change both large and
small. Remember that each of us, endowed with the dignity possessed by
all children of God, has the grace to recognize ourselves in one
another; to understand that we all seek the same love of family and the
same fulfillment of a life well-lived. Remember that in the end, we are
all fishermen.
If nothing else, that knowledge should give us faith that through
our collective labor, and God's providence, and our willingness to
shoulder each other's burdens, America will continue on its precious
journey towards that more perfect union. Congratulations on your
graduation, may God Bless you, and may God Bless the United States of
America.
