I'm sure
many of you have had this experience.
It's late at night
and you start browsing Netflix looking for something to watch.
You scroll through different titles,
you even read a few reviews,
but you just can't commit
to watching any given movie.
Suddenly, it's been 30 minutes and you're still stuck
in infinite browsing mode,
so you just give up.
You're too tired to watch anything now.
So, you cut your losses
and fall asleep.
I've come to believe that this
is the defining characteristic of our generation. (LAUGHTER)
Let's call it keeping our options open. (LAUGHTER)
There's this
philosopher, Zygmunt Bauman.
He calls it "Liquid Modernity."
We never want to commit to any one identity
or place or community,
so we remain
like liquid
in a state that can adapt
to fit any future shape.
Liquid modernity
is infinite browsing mode,
but for everything in our lives.
I've been thinking about this recently because
leaving home and coming here
is a lot like entering a long hallway.
You walk out of the room in which you grew up
and into this place with thousands of different doors to infinitely browse.
And throughout my time here, I've seen all the good that can come
from having so many new options.
I've seen the joy a person feels when they
find a room more fitting for their authentic self.
I've seen big decisions become less painful
because you can always quit,
you can always move,
you can always break up in the hallway.
We'll always be there.
And mostly I've seen all the fun folks have had
experiencing more novelty
than any generation in history
ever experienced.
But
as I've grown older here,
I've also started
seeing the downsides of having so many open doors.
Nobody wants to be stuck behind a locked door,
but nobody wants to live in a hallway either.
It's great to have options when you lose interest in something,
but
I've learned here that the more times I do this,
the less satisfied I am with any given option.
And lately the experiences I crave
are less the rushes of novelty
and more of those perfect Tuesday nights
when you eat dinner with the
friends who you have known for a long time,
who you've made a commitment to,
and who won't quit you because they found someone better.
I've
discovered in my time here that the
people who inspire me the most
are those who have left the hallway,
shut the door behind them and settled in.
I think of Fred Rogers recording episode 895
of Mister
Rogers' Neighborhood because he was committed
to advancing a humane model of moral education.
I think of Dorothy Day sitting with the same outcast folks night
after night after night because it was important
that someone is committed to them.
I think of Martin Luther King,
but not just the Martin Luther King who confronted the fire hoses
in 1963,
but the Martin Luther King who hosted his 1000th tedious planning meeting
in 1967.
When Hollywood tells tales of courage,
they usually take the form of slaying the dragon.
It's all about the big brave moments.
But I've
been learning from these heroes that
the most menacing dragons that stand in the way
of reforming the system or repairing the breach
are the everyday boredom
and distraction and uncertainty
that can erode our ability
to commit to anything for the long haul.
It's why I love that the word "dedicate"
has two meanings.
First,
it means
to make something holy.
Second,
it means to
stick at something for a long time.
I don't think this is a coincidence.
We do something holy
when we choose to commit to something.
And in the most dedicated people I have met,
I have witnessed
how that pursuit of holiness
comes with a side effect
of immense joy.
We
may have come here
to help keep our options open,
but I leave believing that the most radical act we can take
is to make a commitment
to a particular thing,
to a place,
to a profession,
to a cause,
to a community,
to a person,
to show our love for something by working at it for a long time.
And to close doors
and forgo options for its sake.
We often assume that some
acute
and looming threat,
be it a foreign invader
or a domestic demagogue
will be our downfall.
But if we were to end,
that end is just as likely to come
from something far less dramatic,
our failure
to sustain the work.
It is not only the bomb or the bully
that should keep us up at night.
It is also the garden untilled
and the newcomer unwelcomed.
The neighbor unhoused,
and the prisoner unheard,
the voice of the public unheeded,
and the long simmering calamity unhalted,
and the dream
of equal justice
unrealized. (APPLAUSE)
But
we need not be afraid,
for we have in our possession,
the antidote
to our dread.
Our time
free to be dedicated
to the slow,
but necessary work
of turning visions into projects,
values into practices,
and strangers
into neighbors.
That is why
in this age of
liquid modernity,
we should rebel
and join up with a counterculture of commitment
consisting
of solid people.
That is why in this age of
infinite browsing mode,
we should pick a damn movie
and see it all the way through. (LAUGHTER & APPLAUSE)
Before we fall
asleep,
let's get to work. (APPLAUSE)