(applause and cheering)
The President:
Thank you very much.
Thank you, Notre Dame.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Please, have a seat.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Thank you so much.
Please, have a seat.
Thank you.
Well, first of all, congratulations, Class of 2009.
(applause and cheering)
Congratulations to all the
parents, the cousins, the --
(applause)
-- aunts, the uncles, the -- all
the people who helped to bring
you to the point that
you are here today.
Thank you so much to Father
Jenkins for that extraordinary
introduction, even though you
said what I want to say much
more elegantly.
(laughter)
You are doing an extraordinary
job as president of this
extraordinary institution.
(applause and cheering)
Your continued and courageous --
and contagious -- commitment to
honest, thoughtful dialogue
is an inspiration to us all.
(applause)
Good afternoon.
To Father Hesburgh, to Notre
Dame trustees, to faculty,
to family: I am honored
to be here today.
(applause and cheering)
And I am grateful to all of you
for allowing me to be a part of
your graduation.
And I also want to thank you
for the honorary degree that I received.
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.
(laughter)
So far I'm only one
for two as President.
(laughter)
(applause and cheering)
Father Hesburgh is 150 for 150.
(laughter)
(applause and cheering)
I guess that's better.
(laughter)
So, Father Ted,
after the ceremony,
maybe you can give me some
pointers to boost my average.
(laughter)
I also want to congratulate
the Class of 2009 for all your accomplishments.
And since --
Audience Member:
Abortion is murder!
The President:
And since this is Notre Dame --
Audience Member:
Stop killing children!
Audience:
Booo!
The President:
That's all right.
And since --
Audience:
(chanting)
We are ND!
The President:
We're fine, everybody.
We're following Brennan's adage
that we don't do things easily.
(laughter)
We're not going to shy away from
things that are uncomfortable sometimes.
(applause and cheering)
Now, since this is Notre Dame I
think we should talk not only
about your accomplishments
in the classroom,
but also in the
competitive arena.
(laughter)
No, don't worry, I'm not
going to talk about that.
(laughter)
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.
(applause and cheering)
Now this excites me.
(laughter)
I want to congratulate the
winners of this year's
tournament, a team by the name
of "Hallelujah Holla Back."
(laughter and applause)
Congratulations.
Well done.
(laughter)
Though I have to say, I am
personally disappointed that the
"Barack O'Ballers" did
not pull it out this year.
(laughter)
So next year, if you need a 6'2"
forward with a decent jumper,
you know where I live.
(laughter and applause)
Now, every one of you should be proud of what you've achieved
at this institution.
One hundred and sixty-three
classes of Notre Dame graduates
have sat where you sit 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.
You have a different deal.
Your class has come of age at a
moment of great consequence for
our nation and for 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's a privilege and a
responsibility afforded to few
generations -- and a task that
you're now called to fulfill.
This generation, your generation
is the one that must find a path
back to prosperity and decide
how we respond to a global
economy that left millions
behind even before the most
recent 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.
(applause)
Your generation must decide how
to save God's creation from a
changing climate that
threatens to destroy it.
Your generation 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, diversity of culture,
and diversity of belief.
In short, we must find a way
to live together as one human family.
(applause)
And it's this last challenge
that I'd like to talk about
today, despite the fact that
Father John stole all my best lines.
(laughter)
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 -- these things
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
greater 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.
And 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 technological and scientific
advances, we see here in this country and 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 that
you've received here at Notre
Dame is that you've had time to
consider these wrongs in the
world; perhaps recognized
impulses in yourself that you
want to leave behind.
You've 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, bringing
together men and women of
principle and purpose -- even
accomplishing that 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
an 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 might be relieved.
(applause)
The question, then -- 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,
as Father John said, demonizing
those with just as strongly held
convictions on the other side?
And of course, 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."
And a few days after
the Democratic nomination,
I received an e-mail from a
doctor who told me that while he
voted for me in the
Illinois 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 was
not what was preventing him
potentially 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 he had assumed
I was a reasonable person,
he supported my policy
initiatives to help the poor and
to lift up our
educational system,
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 I thanked him.
And I didn't change my
underlying 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 up our hearts and our
minds to those who may not think
precisely like we do or believe
precisely what we believe --
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 heart-wrenching
decision for any woman
is not made casually,
it has both moral and
spiritual dimensions.
So let us work together to
reduce the number of women
seeking abortions, let's
reduce unintended pregnancies.
(applause)
Let's make adoption
more available.
(applause)
Let's provide care and support
for women who do carry their
children to term.
(applause)
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 not only
in sound science,
but also in clear ethics, as
well as respect for the equality
of women."
Those are things we can do.
(applause)
Now, understand --
understand, Class of 2009,
I do not suggest that the debate
surrounding abortion can or
should go away.
Because 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.
(applause)
Father Hesburgh has long spoken
of this institution as both a
lighthouse and a crossroads.
A 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 John in saying how
inspired I am by the maturity
and responsibility with which
this class has approached the
debate surrounding today's ceremony.
You are an example of
what Notre Dame is about.
(applause)
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.
You see, 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.
And 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.
And it was quite an eclectic
crew -- Catholic and Protestant
churches, Jewish and African
American organizers,
working-class black, 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 these
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 was really broke and
they fed me.
(laughter)
Perhaps because I witnessed all
of the good works their faith
inspired them to perform, I
found myself drawn not just to
the work with the church; I
was drawn to be in the church.
It was through this service
that I was brought to Christ.
And at the time, Cardinal Joseph
Bernardin was the Archbishop of Chicago.
(applause)
For those of you too young to
have known him or known of 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 and 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
hearts and minds."
My heart and mind
were touched by him.
They were touched by the words
and deeds of the men and women I
worked alongside in
parishes across 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.
Now, you, Class of 2009, are
about to enter the next phase of
your life at a time
of great uncertainty.
You'll be called to help restore
a free market that's also fair
to all who are willing to work.
You'll be called 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 simply someone who insists
on being an active citizen,
you will be exposed to more
opinions and ideas broadcast
through more means of
communication than ever existed before.
You'll hear talking
heads scream on cable,
and you'll read blogs that
claim definitive knowledge,
and you will watch politicians
pretend they know what they're
talking about.
(laughter)
Occasionally, you may have the
great fortune of actually seeing
important issues debated by
people who do know what they're
talking about -- by
well-intentioned people with
brilliant minds and
mastery of the facts.
In fact, I suspect that some
of you will be among those
brightest stars.
And 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.
In other words, stand
as a lighthouse.
But remember, too, that
you can be a crossroads.
Remember, too, that the ultimate
irony of faith is that it
necessarily admits doubt.
It's the belief in
things not seen.
It's 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.
And this doubt should not
push us away our faith.
But it should humble us.
It should temper our passions,
cause us to be wary of too much
self-righteousness.
It should compel us to remain
open and curious and eager to
continue the spiritual and moral
debate that began for so many of
you within the
walls of Notre Dame.
And within our vast democracy,
this doubt should remind us even
as we cling to our faith 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 and
charity and 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's 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.
The call 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 percent -- have
lived this law of love through
the service you've performed
at schools and hospitals;
international relief agencies
and local charities.
Brennan is just one example
of what your class has accomplished.
That's incredibly impressive,
a powerful testament to this institution.
(applause)
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, even for a moment,
to work in common effort toward
a common goal; when
they struggle together,
and sacrifice together, and
learn from one another -- then
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. Board of Education.
Now, 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 12 resolutions
recommended by this commission
that would ultimately become law
in the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
There were six members
of this 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.
(applause)
So 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.
And finally, when they reached
an impasse in Louisiana,
Father Ted flew them all to
Notre Dame's retreat in Land
O'Lakes, Wisconsin --
(applause)
-- where they eventually
overcame their differences and
hammered out a final deal.
And 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
they were all fishermen.
(laughter)
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
-- because 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,
the same fulfillment
of a life well lived.
Remember that in the end, in
some way 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, Class of 2009.
May God bless you, and may God
bless the United States of America.
(applause and cheering)
