2026 Speeches and Media

Welcome President Favazza — Abbot Isaac and the Monastic Community — Faculty and Staff — Family, Friends, and my fellow graduates in the Class of 2026. I stand before you not just as an individual shaped in a special way by this community. I also stand as one among many. Each of us—though we are all dressed alike today—have been shaped in particular ways during our years on the hilltop, and we each carry our own version of what Saint Anselm has meant and will continue to mean in our lives for decades to come.

Today, we find ourselves at a moment that feels both full and fleeting. We are celebrating everything we’ve done, everything we’ve become, and at the same time, preparing to step into something new. And while it’s necessary to focus on what comes next, it’s important on this day to take a moment or two to reflect upon how this community has shaped us, and how we have helped shape one another.

If there’s one thing I’ve come to understand, though, it’s that Saint Anselm didn’t just give us growth on the way towards earning our diploma. We had to meet this place half way in order to get to where we are today. We had to seize the opportunities our teachers, coaches, mentors, and peers put before us. And somewhere along the way, we learned—sometimes intentionally, often by accident—to create our own opportunities by the choices we made, the people with whom we connected, and the ways we allowed ourselves to be seen.

How is it possible that those days when we first stepped our frightened freshmen feet on the Hilltop in the summer of 2022 feel like forever ago? And feel yesterday at the same time? Well, you’d have to ask a Math major.

And that would be me. I came to Saint Anselm as a Math major—and today I am graduating as one. That is a simple calculation. What is less simple, and more of a profound mystery, is the way all the other things here began to add up, how one equation in my life unfolded into others in ways I never could have imagined. It’s all part of what I’ve learned to call the Liberal Arts experience.

Okay, let’s just say that when I came here determined to be a Math major, I did not know that Mathematics was part of something called the quadrivium, one of the seven original Liberal Arts from ancient Greece. Nope, wasn’t aware of that. Also didn’t know what the other six were. And I certainly didn’t expect that all seven of them, and a couple in particular, would end up being such substantial parts of my growth as a student, and as a person.

Geometry is another part of that quadrivium. Okay, built into the major, all good. Astronomy? Well, we’ve got O-Zone, and there was that solar eclipse back in our sophomore year. But the fourth one of these, Music—this is the one that surprised me, and set me on a journey I did not expect. For me, music was something private, something I did on my own. But over time, I brought it outside. I played my guitar on the quad—not every day, not for an audience, but just when I needed a moment to slow down.

And without realizing it, those small moments became something more. They became conversations, connections, friendships. People would stop, listen, talk, and suddenly, something that felt solitary became shared. It taught me that when you do what you love openly, you don’t just express yourself—you find your people.

Those same connections led me to spaces I hadn’t expected to be part of—like the Grappone Humanities Institute. What started as showing up to support friends turned out to be something I came to deeply value. Friday afternoons at the Come Friday Forums became a space where ideas, experiences, and perspectives came together. There was something special about those rooms—students from every discipline, alumni eager to share their stories, and conversations that extended far beyond the walls we sat within.

Before I knew it, this Math major was being steeped in the rest of the Liberal Arts, the trivium of subjects that are all about words.

I began contributing and co-editing humanitas, a place on pages where all of us could represent ourselves and our capabilities.

It was also at the Institute that I met people who made this place feel even more like home. My campus grandparents—Susan and Patrick McKeown—two Saint Anselm alumni from five decades ago who will happily sit you down, make you a sandwich, then offer you a surprising outlook on life that makes your heart feel just a bit fuller than when you first arrived.

Many of my professors and other people here at Saint Anselm have offered this same kind of connection. Opened doors for me, learned my name, bothered to listen.

My unexpected turn into the Humanities also gave me the chance to share that classic Liberal Art that had been something so deeply personal—my own music. While performing on both the Sonnet Stage and inside the Humanities Institute, I have felt completely myself. This is because of where I was, who I was around, and the kind of community we’d built—one where sharing art brings people together. Needless to say, I am graduating today with more than a degree in Mathematics. There’s now some additional writing on my diploma that claims that—I know enough music theory…

This same spirit exists in so many corners of this campus. Whether they are meaningful moments in the Meelia Center, Campus Ministry, the Intercultural Center, or on your sports team, I’m sure each of you can relate to these feelings, but connect them to experiences of your own.

And I think that’s what makes this place so special, so much more than just a school with a main entrance that nobody uses, or a pretty little pond (if we can even call it that) that nobody swims in. It’s . . .

Where have you been these past four years? Who have you been hanging around? Which of the Liberal Arts did you unexpectedly stumble into that changed who you were and where you were going?

Have you taken the chances you told yourself you would?

Are you proud of the legacy you are leaving behind?

Now, what are you expecting in these upcoming years? And are you ready to be surprised?

What’s the song in your heart that you are carrying away from here?

Here is one in mine.

     May God bless and keep you always

     May your wishes all come true

     May you always do for others

     And let others do for you

     May you build a ladder to the stars

     Climb on every rung

     And may you stay

     Forever Young

AAUP Citation -- 2026

Each year we present the Excellence in Faculty Accomplishment Award:  

It reads: "For excellence in teaching and scholarship, contributions to the academic community through active and positive relations with colleagues and students, and an involved concern for humanity." 

Nominations are solicited from faculty. It is the only opportunity for Saint Anselm faculty to recognize a peer for excellence, in a community with no shortage of worthy candidates. 

----

Words that echoed through in the letters of nominations, many voices which coalesced and made this year’s recipient a clear choice for the committee, describe someone who has “demonstrated the excellence and accomplishments this award seeks to recognize.” 

Someone seen as, “one of the most present faculty on campus”, “a tireless volunteer”, 

• co-organizing educational events on campus, such as:
  • international conferences on “the Ethics of Business Trade and Global Governance”, 
  • and the Ethics in Governance Speaker Program
• Serving on multiple college committees, 
• Advising student clubs, 
• Serving as Faculty Senator, 
• And, this year, Serving as Chair of an ever-growing department -- with a record number of advisees. She is known for the “quality of her teaching and advising”,
• collaborating to develop business-related minors, and integral to Updating our Business Administration Major. 

Since joining Saint Anselm in 2013, this Professor of the Department of Economics and Business, has taught a range of courses including International Business Development, Emerging Markets, International Marketing and HR, Personal Finance, Introduction to Social Innovation, and our humanities course, Conversatio.

Regarded as “dedicated to student success”, a “great teacher” who is “student-focused”, one example describes our colleague taking a 4.5-hour bus trip to NYC with her Conversatio students on Saturday, and back on campus, Sunday -- ready for the Women in Business Spring Luncheon.

With degrees in Chemistry, an MBA and a PHD in International Business, this professor brings a diverse educational background along with a decade worth of international corporate experience in Europe, Latin America and the US. to bare.

In 2021, she was the recipient of a prestigious Fulbright Scholar Award to the Czech Republic to conduct research at a University and teach "Managerial Methods" and "Intro to Social Innovation." 

Dedication to fostering global awareness and experiential learning spills over to the classroom and is seen in her travels with students to Italy, teaching at Tuscania. 

Back on campus, juggling heavy teaching, advising and service activities, this professor is known as “an active and admirable scholar”, publishing multiple articles in the past few years alone. 

Her enthusiasm and belief in the importance of international experience and engagement, is evident in her research, her Fulbright award and in the mentorship of student Fulbright applicants and sharing the potential impacts of social innovation in the world around us. 

But, it is also seen in the intellectual, academic and Anselmian paths of her own family, one of whom, by wonderful coincidence, will be crossing this stage this very morning.

A heartfelt Congratulations to this year’s

AAUP Excellence in Faculty Accomplishment Award Recipient,
Prof. Dina Frutos-Bencze.

A few weeks ago, a delegation from the college including me made a pilgrimage down to Norfolk, VA, to witness a most unusual event. An impressive Naval vessel was being commissioned, named for an Anselmian from the Class of 1962. Colonel Harvey C. Barnum, Jr., known to all simply as Barney, is one of only a select few who given this honor while still living. Why? 

After graduating from St. A’s with a degree in Economics, he was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Marine Corps. Three years later he was sent to Vietnam and just two weeks into his tour, on December 18, 1965, he woke up to a day that would demand a response from him that he did not expect. When his company’s commander was mortally wounded in an enemy ambush, Lieutenant Barnum took command, called in artillery, led a counter-attack, and at the risk of his life, led the remaining soldiers to safety. In recognition for his actions on this day which led to saving 130 lives, he was awarded the nation’s highest award, the Medal of Honor in 1967. Subsequently, Barney served a second tour in Vietnam, retired from the Marine Corps in 1989, and continued to work in a variety of roles for the military, including assistant secretary of the Nary, until 2009. For all of his service, but especially for his courageous action on that unexpected day, is why we traveled to Norfolk to witness the commissioning of the USS Harvey C. Barnum, Jr. 

But the question I keep asking myself is simply this: What will be my response to an unexpected day that will change my life? Given the length of days we have (if you are 22 years old, you have lived around 8,000 days already!), perhaps we can be lulled into thinking that a single day certainly cannot change a life. But even if we have not yet experienced it ourselves, all we need to do is look around and see that a single day can change everything. Whether it be a large-scale event such as Sept. 11, 2001 or a personal event such as the sudden loss of a parent or child, we likely know more than a few people who can point to life before, say May 16, 2026, and life afterwards. 

And the life-changing day doesn’t have to be a tragic or traumatic event. It could be the day you met your spouse or best friend, the day you won the lottery, or the day someone who loves you does an intervention to get you to take the first uncertain step towards mental health or away from addiction. The important thing here is that you didn’t wake that morning expecting any of these things to happen. But they happen so what is your response? Fear? Flight? Acceptance? All of the above? And even as you feel these things, what will be your ultimate response?

Our life can seem like it is one big preparation for the next thing. We go to school to prepare for the next school and eventually a career. We leave home and live on our own to prepare for life independent from our families (parents particularly like this preparation!). A leads to B leads to C and so on. The exciting and scary thing is that sometimes you wake up to a day that changes all of that. When that day happens, will you interpret it as simply a blip in the system and get back to your old life as soon as possible? Or will you embrace it, allow that day to change you, and never be the same again. 

But wait a minute. Let’s push back on the statement “allow that day to change you.” Does it really change you or does your response to it simply confirm who you are at the core of yourself. When we spoke to Barney after the commissioning ceremony, he thanked us for coming. And he said: “You know, St. A’s gave me the walls. All I had to do was put on the roof.” St. A’s gave me the walls, gave me something to build on who I already was. What a wonderful expression of our mission. The college does not change who you are; we simply give you the bricks and mortar of critical thinking, problem-solving, collaboration, communication, and empathy so you can build strong walls on the foundation that you already had when you first came to the Hilltop. Now, as you depart, all you have to do is put on the roof. 

On December 18, 1965, Barney knew what he had to do and he did it. Perhaps he didn’t know it at the time, but he built the roof that day. For the rest of us, the process of building our roof may not be so quick or decisive. It may take us a lifetime and even at the end of our lives, some of you may wonder if the roof has a few holes in it. But if we have the foundation and the walls, we will be ready to build the roof even on the day that changes everything. Because in point of fact, no matter how traumatic or joyful or painful or surprising, that unexpected day will not change everything. After December 18, 1965, Barney was still Barney. But he became the leader he was meant to be on that day. What will that day reveal to you? The courage you never thought you had? The wisdom that you thought had always eluded you? The love you thought was meant for others and not you? The faith that you thought was weak at best? Anselmians, the walls are already there, just go build the roof. It may not be the one you thought you would build, but it will be the one you were meant to build. And in building it, you will, in the famous maxim found in the Temple of Apollo in Delphi, “know yourself.” You will never be a totally different person than the person you are now, but you will become more self-aware of your purpose as you navigate the years and experiences ahead. Just build the roof. 

As you know, Class of 2026, we are leaving the Hilltop together. Your journey is just beginning, mine is, well, let’s just say it is changing. I have always thought that “Commencement” was both a good and an insufficient word. Good in the sense that it connotes that you take the first step in a journey of 10,000 miles. But insufficient in that it lacks passion, direction, energy. And don’t even get me started about the word “retirement.” The most memorable part of the word is “tired.” Forget the passion, direction, and energy; just see if you can keep breathing. So, I thought we could both use a bit of a kick on the backside as we depart from this place. 

And this is where Barney helps us out again. If you ever get a letter or a voicemail from him, his sign-off is legendary. He ends every communication with two words that incapsulates what happened on Dec. 18, 1965. Those words: Charge On! When I first heard this, I wondered: is he for real? Oh, but let’s be clear: Barney is the real deal. He utters these words with every fiber of his being: foundation, walls, and roof. It is why it is the official motto of the crew of the USS Harvey C. Barnum, Jr.

As we prepare to take our next steps, I suggest we consider Barney’s motto to give us urgency about the days, months, and years ahead. To not be reticent but rather act with purpose consistent with being an Anselmian. We are in this together, so I suggest as we wrap this up, when I say “Charge On,” you repeat it as a kind of mantra for what lies ahead. Not recklessness, but purposefulness. So, come on Class of 2026: Charge On! Charge On! Charge On!

I love you, Class of 2026. Don’t worry about the surprising days ahead. Find your purpose. Build yourself a roof and Charge On!!

Good morning. I would just like to say… there's no such thing as a coincidence. God works in history, our own personal history, the history of a community. So, I have to tell Dr. Kennedy Shelton that two years ago yesterday an oncology nurse said to me, when you get out of the trauma center, you should go to your own doctor, because you have some inflamed lymph nodes in your abdomen was the doctor, and so I did, and turned out that I had follicular lymphoma, and because of the nurses, the oncology nurses at Memorial Sloan Kettering, and the physicians, and the clinical trial that they coaxed me into the cancer left, so I have a special affinity for nurses, and especially for nurses who work in the field of oncology. So, thank you for your commitment. 

Those who are, whether nursing students, if you're nursing students, say Amen. Thank you for being you and for what you're doing. I'm also grateful for this invitation, because it gave me the opportunity to ride from New Jersey to New Hampshire, just like my predecessors in my monastery did so many decades ago, with the intention of when they arrived here at the request of the bishop of the diocese to establish a school of the Lord's service. 

We're grateful for my predecessors at Newark Abbey and St. Mary's Abbey, who found their way on that same route that I took yesterday here, so that you might be able to sit here this morning. I'm also grateful for the very grateful for the honorary degree, which I will proudly add to my other honorary degrees, six honorary doctorates, one honorary master's, one honorary bachelor's.

When I applied to St. Better Nick's Prep as an eighth grader, I was rejected, so I'll take any degree in any diploma that I can get, no matter what the circumstances may be. So, thank you, St. Anselm, for this honor. 

Some of you may have seen it. I don't know one of you who was one of us is now back with us. So, the gift of the monks from Newark coming to New Hampshire is reciprocated now by monastics, though. those who have gone to school at a monastic college. Monastics returning to Newark to be of service to the young people in our mission in Newark. Several of our alumni, who are alumni of St. A's, travel that route and the other direction from Manchester to Newark to continue a school of the Lord's service, so we're grateful for the alums from St. Anne's Homes over the years who have come back to work with us in our mission. 

I mentioned I was rejected when I applied to St. Benedict. It took the pastor of my church to write a letter that eventually got me in. The joke is that some of those who rejected me wound up working for me, and I was wondering, while you may have seen this, it was sent to me by somebody, why somebody on Facebook was able to question my value as a graduation or commencement speaker here at St. A's. 

What could a high school principal have to say to college graduates? And I was wondering, how the heck he knew my background so well, that everything that I had achieved was honorary, so I hope that I can prove Chris wrong with some remarks that might be of help to you, but now that I've expressed my thanks to you, to the administration of the college, to my brother Monks at the Abbey, I want you to stand up as they say. Where I live, get up off that thing, turn around and thank the people who may allowed you to be here, who gave you life, who supported you in life, who transmitted the faith to you, and allowed you to have enough background and finances to get here to St. Anselm. 

So, we're grateful to all the parents, grandparents, church parents, neighborhood parents, godparents, anybody who served as a parent to the class of 26 we're grateful. Thank you. 

Now, here's I have a request: stay off your phone, don't be sitting there texting somebody, this guy is killing me right now. Stay off your phones. The reason that I came from my monastery to yours was not to receive an honorary degree, was to talk to you about the birds and the bees. bees, not that I'm sure your parents took care of that a long time ago, or maybe you took care of it on social media of one kind or another. Somebody knows what I'm talking about this morning, right now, but there you don't want to start. You start helping me. I keep talking. You better watch out. 

I preach in a community on Sundays of African American Catholics, so somebody shouts makes the preacher just keep right on going. So be careful of your time. Honeybees are interesting to observe. They live in communities. around the central figure, around that queen bee who resides in the center of the hive. Different groupings of bees have different responsibilities, different responsibilities outside and inside the hive, the individual bee without the other bees dies. The bee's ability to find nectar, you may have noticed this on walks in strange places. The bee's ability to find nectar from flowers that grow in cracks in a sidewalk on the roof of an abandoned building in strange places in the center of a garden or on the periphery of a garden, you can find bees sitting on top of flowers extracting nectar to return to the hive where the community of bees can produce sweetness, can produce honey for us. 

I invite you, men and women, to find ways to might make life sweeter wherever your life takes you. Find a way to make honey out of the difficult places of life. Find somebody in the cracks of life, on the periphery of life, on the rooftops and abandoned buildings of life, and bring the sweetness of your life to them. Don't keep the honey to yourself, share it with somebody else. And bees are able to make honey only because they live together in a community in the hive. You're graduating today from a monastic school, a monastic hive, so to speak. Be community makers wherever your life takes you. Surround people just like you were surrounded by what I've come to learn is called the black wave. Let others be surrounded by your goodness, that they may come to know the mystery of the divine through you. 

Be an announcer to somebody that's in need of the announcement. Somebody who's suffering from depression, somebody who's sick with follicular lymphoma, somebody who's living all alone, somebody who ought to know the mystery of God through you and your goodness. 

One of the birds, birds signal the return of hope, the return of changes of seasons. Birds sing in the morning, they sing in the noonday, they sing at the evening, they sing in praise of the mystery of God. Be singers, be singers, wherever you find yourself in those difficult places in life, in those rejoicing moments in life, with those who are abandoned, those who live under railroad trestles, but those who have no home to stay in, sing to them of their goodness, sing to them of God's presence in their life. Let them know God loves them just the way they are. 

I'm about to, as they say in the Baptist Church right now. The preacher gets there, he's, I'm about to close. And then, if you grew up in the Baptist church, he's sitting there, say, oh Lord, you're going to go out for another 45 minutes, because about four more times in the sermon, he's going to say, I'm about to close, and he just keeps going on, and he'll say, I'm about to take my seat, and he'll just keep going. 

But before I close, I just want to share a story about a friend of mine. You may know him. His name is Moses. He lived a while back and was the tender of sheep. He was a shepherd. One day he was tending the sheep of his father-in-law, Jethro, and while he was doing so, he noticed a bush that was on fire but wasn't being consumed. He said to himself, I must go over to examine this phenomenon. 

Did you ever wonder what day it was? Was it a Monday morning? Was it a Tuesday night? Maybe it was Saturday afternoon. It was an ordinary day, and Moses was doing what he ordinarily did. I had no conversations with Dr. Favazza before I said this to you, so there's no such thing. Remember where I started as a coincidence, the ordinariness of life. 

Moses was doing what he ordinarily did on an ordinary day, and in the midst of the ordinary, the extraordinary happened. Moses walked over to the bush, and God called him by name, Moses, Moses, and God gave him an assignment. 20-six, be alert for the extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary. 

Be alert for God speaking to you in the everyday of life, in the routine of life, in the burdens of life, in the sufferings of life. Be alert for God calling you by name. God knows you as you are, and will call you just as He called Moses, called Moses, and gave him an assignment, told him to go back to Egypt, where they wanted to kill him. Before that, Moses said, "Oh Lord, so the assignment may, may not be guaranteed to be pleasant, but I'm asking you to be alert to the ordinaryness of life for the extraordinary movement of God in your heart as you leave here today, as you leave this monastery, as you leave the surrounding being surrounded in love by a black wave, and by parents who brought you to this day, make life sweeter for somebody. 

Sing like the birds in the morning, sing like the birds at the noonday, sing like the birds in the eventide, sing like the birds at in the midnight hour, when things get most difficult and are most ominous. You remember that St. Paul was beat up, beaten with rods, thrown into the inner prison, and while he was in there, he started singing at the midnight hour, and brewing, the longer he sang, the more prisoners in the prison began to sing. So you ought to sing at every hour of the day in your life. If you sing, other folks are going to start the same with you. I'm grateful for this opportunity. I'm grateful for you. 

Charge on, charge on. 

Turn to somebody next to you and say, charge on. Stand up and tell your parents to stand up and tell your parents to charge on, even in the midst of cancer, even in the midst of children, in the whatever the suffering charge on. Thank you. Thanks for having me. Charge on!

Acts 18:9-18; John 16:20-23

On behalf of the monastic community, I congratulate you on reaching this important milestone in your life. Due to your hard work, and maybe some prayers from your parents, you are on the verge of starting a new journey in your life. We thank your families and friends for their support of you, and we thank the faculty and staff of the College who have taught you and assisted you during your time here. 

In the Gospel, Jesus speaks to His disciples about a deep human experience: the transition from sorrow and struggle into lasting joy. He told his disciples, “You will weep and mourn, while the world rejoices; you will grieve, but your grief will become joy." 

Jesus then gives us a fascinating image to reflect on that is applicable to you today: that of childbirth. The pain and time during childbirth is intense and filled with a variety of emotions but it is eclipsed by the joy of bringing life into the world. Over the last four years you have experienced moments of doubt, or pain, or anger and moments of happiness, joy, and relief. Those emotions of perhaps anxiety you felt 4 years ago in this space spot are now replaced with joy. And not just any kind of joy, Christ offers you his joy. An eternal and life lasting joy that you are loved by God. 

As you leave campus, the world needs the joy of Christ. You are entering a world similar to the city of Corinth, which we heard about in the Acts of the Apostles. Corinth was an economic center of activity, one of the largest and wealthiest cities in the Mediterranean area, with a diverse population of multiple faiths. St. Paul faced many obstacles in his attempt to spread the Gospel, but God told him “Do not be afraid. Go on speaking, and do not be silent, for I am with you."

God was not only speaking to St. Paul 2,000 years ago. He is speaking to you today. Do not be afraid! Do not be afraid to spread your faith. Do not be afraid to play pickleball against Hammer the Hawk. Do not be afraid to speak out against injustice. Do not be afraid to stand up for your values. Like St. Paul, you may face persecution, have insults hurled at you, and be in uncomfortable social situations. But God is with you.

Whether you are becoming a nurse, a banker, a teacher, a scientist, or a graduate student, no matter what you will be doing; you are called to live out your faith and to pursue truth and holiness. Do not underestimate the impact that you can have on others. You can use your education and your faith to positively influence the lives of your family, friends, neighbors, and co-workers. Live lives that seek to promote peace, dignity, and justice in your communities. Lives that should always be pointing the way to Jesus Christ.

That is why we have a Mass the day before your graduation. The Eucharist is the source of our strength and the center of our lives. It is from the Eucharist that we understand the meaning of goodness, truth, and happiness. Jesus Christ is our true center of our lives and as you leave here, he is always with you.

Do not be afraid! Go forth and spread the Gospel. 

May God bless you with fortitude and joy as you begin your next journey. Remember that the monks will be praying for you everyday and please pray for us and the College.