The air outside my back door smells of apple blossoms and new beginnings.
It’s a season of caps tossed high, diplomas clutched with trembling hands, and proud families squinting through sunlit ceremonies. But this May brings an even bigger commencement for the global church: the election of a new pope — and for the first time, an American.
Graduates step into a world that is watching, waiting and often weary. A world hungry for hope, for witness, for someone to take seriously the call to live with integrity and purpose. A world not so different from the church, really. Both arenas — academic and ecclesial — ask a similar question this spring: What kind of person will you become?
In classrooms and cathedrals, we mark milestones not for nostalgia, but for launch. Commencement doesn’t mean conclusion; it means the beginning of a life lived outwardly, intentionally. A life that stands for something.
And in this moment, when the papacy feels closer to home for many Americans, there’s a renewed invitation to wear Catholicism not as a private label, but as a public calling. Not with arrogance, but with joy. Not with superiority, but with sincerity.
For years, many Catholics in America have quietly lived their faith, sometimes unsure how — or if — they could wear it in public without fear of mockery, misunderstanding or marginalization. But the election of a pope from our own soil brings a shift. Not in doctrine or direction, perhaps, but in visibility. It’s suddenly more “mainstream” to talk about the Mass, to explain why you love your parish, to share your favorite encyclical on Instagram. And there’s a gift in that, especially for young adults stepping into the public square.
But there’s a caution, too.
This isn’t the time to water down the Gospel to make it palatable, or to turn the faith into a trendy accessory. It’s a moment to be fully Catholic — joyfully, intellectually, liturgically, prayerfully. To root oneself in the truth and beauty of the church and then step boldly into a world that needs those roots.
The graduates I know are ready for that. They’ve wrestled with hard questions, grown up in a digital age where nothing is hidden, and watched adults around them fumble through political and ecclesial division. They don’t want platitudes; they want authenticity. They don’t want performative religion; they want sacrificial love.
So, to the graduates: you begin not just a career or a degree path, but a vocation. Whether you’re called to marriage or ministry, medicine or mechanics, begin with Christ. Begin with the courage to live your faith aloud. And when the world around you asks where your hope comes from, be ready to answer — not with argument, but with the testimony of a life lived well.
And to the rest of us — parents, priests, teachers, mentors: this is our commencement, too. A chance to recommit to what we believe. To speak clearly, love deeply and witness visibly. Not because a new pope makes it popular, but because Christ makes it worth everything. (And also, even just a little, because it’s fun to be Catholic right now.)
The church begins again this May. So do our graduates. May God bless us as we commence.
Foss, whose website is takeupandread.org, writes from Connecticut.
