“My peace I give to you…”
--John 14:27
At this time of year we enter into something schools call: graduation season. This is that time of year when speeches are made and there is too much talk of achievements and goals and
the glorious future that awaits all those graduating seniors. Yesterday I attended a graduation ceremony and
in less than an hour, I think I heard the phrase: change the world come out of the mouths of three different speakers. Of course, it is certainly possible, even likely perhaps, that one or two of
the graduates who will walk across the countless graduation stages this month will do something, someday, that
changes the world (or some corner of the world). Why shouldn't they? And, of course, it sounds encouraging and hopeful, something to aspire to. I guess.
But, my favorite advice to seniors at this time of year is this: Failure is always an option.
I mean that on a couple of levels. One, failure actually is possible. Always. No matter how prepared we are. No matter how hard or long we study or practice or rehearse… failure is always a possibility. And, secondly, failure may even be a worthwhile choice… if we aren’t prepared to go forward. In this context, I also like to point out to my students that their librarian (me) barely passed high school and mostly due to the fact that he barely ever showed up. Which, I also like to point out, has lead to me being stuck in high school for the rest of my life! In the immortal words of Charles Barkley—I am not a role model.
And yet… recently I learned a lesson about failure that I
can’t seem to let go of.
I lead a Rosary at school every Thursday during the break time. This involves sending out an email reminder the day before, and arranging to have my library covered while I go to the chapel. Not a lot of responsibilities there, but sometimes even that can overwhelm me. A couple of weeks back, I woke up, shut off my alarm and immediately realized: it was Thursday and I had forgotten to send out the email, and had forgotten to get someone to cover the library for me. It was 5 am, there was still time… but, my first thought was that no one had come to the Rosary the past few weeks. I had been alone in the chapel. So, I began considering simply letting it drop. Who would notice? Who would even care?
By the time I was headed to school, I was feeling guilty and quite defeated. The voice in my head was reminding me of all those emails teachers get every day asking for help, another meeting, another duty. They certainly didn’t need another email from me. And especially not at this late hour. I was certain that I wouldn’t be leading a rosary that day. In fact, I was beginning to wonder whether I should just give up. I have been doing this Rosary thing at school for over 20 years now. There had been some good years, but of late—not so much. Perhaps the real problem had nothing to do with organizational skills, perhaps the real problem was me. My personality, my goofiness, my reluctance to use a calendar! I had tried. And I had failed. Maybe it was time to let this thing die, so someone else could start over and do it better.
I was feeling pretty low when I got to school that morning, but for some reason—instead of just letting go, the first thing I did was open my computer and send out the Rosary email. I still didn’t have coverage for the library, but at least I had sent out the reminder. It was kind of like a Hail Mary pass! So to speak. But, in a way, it was kind of hypocritical. I think I was more concerned about how it would look to my co-workers if I didn’t send out the Rosary email. But… You know how every once in a while those passes get caught… It feels like a miracle. Time is running out. In desperation, the quarterback hurls the ball into the air—as high and far as he can. And somehow it falls right into the outstretched hands of the receiver—mid-stride—and sprinting across the goal line where… Well... Enough football.
But, that is kind of what happened to me. Almost like a miracle, (like Billy “Whiteshoes” Johnson popping up in the midst of a bunch of Pittsburg defenders) at the last minute, a volunteer walks in and asks if I have anything I need her to do. Sadly, for a moment, I considered telling her no. But, instead I asked her to watch the library while I went to the chapel.
And that is when the real strangeness began. I walked into the chapel and there was a teacher already praying. Someone I had never seen in there before. She smiled at me as I sat down and said she had come early because she had to go to a meeting. I guess I looked a bit stunned or frazzled, because she looked at me with a tenderness I cannot explain and asked how I was—as if she really wanted to know. Anyway, suddenly I was telling her about my life, my worries, my daughter’s health, our family struggles and… and with a kindness and sincerity I cannot explain, she listened and offered words of comfort and consolation. Even thanking me for making the rosary available to the school every week, telling me what an important gift that was. As we talked, a student came in. Again, someone I had never seen in there before. When she did, the teacher stood to leave. She assured me that she would be joining me again.
When she left, I asked the student if she were there for the Rosary. She was. When I asked her if there was anyone she needed to pray for, she looked at me and I could see she had been crying. Hesitantly, she told me it was the first anniversary of her grandmother’s death, and she really needed to pray for her. As she talked, I could tell that her grandmother had been very important to her. It sounded like she had been the glue that held their family together. And once this young woman began talking about her grandmother, sharing memories and tears, there was a lightness in her eyes that had been missing before. She was still sad, but she no longer seemed hopeless. In fact, she seemed at peace. And I guess I was too.
And so, there you go: success or failure? I felt like I was a failure. And, in many ways, I guess I was. I’m not good at organizing. Terrible at advertising. At best I am a D- in calendar usage, and definitely an F- when it comes to asking for help and yet… What seemed to me a failure was in fact a blessing. I think God used that teacher and that student to make that lesson quite clear. He wasn’t asking me to be perfect or to be successful. All that was necessary was the willingness to just keep failing.
The verse at the top of this piece is from John’s Gospel. Jesus is speaking to His disciples who, a few hours later would scatter in terror and even deny ever knowing Him. And before night would fall again, Jesus would be hanging on a cross. To the eyes of the world, an utter failure.
So, here is my graduation advice: Don’t worry about success or failure. Ultimately, that is God’s business. The fact is, you will never find peace in a resume or a list of achievements. You were not made for success or failure. You were made to be a gift; give yourself away. And let God do the rest. That is where you will find real peace.
Every graduation address needs a couple of memorable quotations. Here are mine. The first is from the Irish author Samuel Beckett: Ever tried? Ever failed? Try again. Fail again. Fail better…
And the second is from Mother Teresa: God doesn’t call us to be successful. God calls us to be faithful.
Class of 2022, don’t be afraid to go forth and fail… boldly, when necessary.
