Searching for Silience

These remarks were shared at the Commencement for the Class of 2025 on June 14, 2025.

It is a true joy to be here at this very special moment, to celebrate the incredible achievements of the Class of 2025. My task today is to offer a charge—not just something to reflect on, but something to act on, to carry forward into your lives.

Let me begin with something I love: lighthouses. I grew up in New England, known for its rocky coasts and historic lighthouses. As a child, I visited many of them—those towers casting beams into darkness and through storms, guiding ships to safety. Though most are now automated, their purpose remains unchanged: to serve as beacons—constant, reliable, and reassuring.

Steve Pemberton, in his memoir The Lighthouse Effect, writes about his own deep connection to lighthouses. He grew up in the same city I did—New Bedford, Massachusetts—but his path was very different. Raised in the foster care system, Steve encountered adults—educators, mentors, neighbors—who made small gestures that turned out to be life-changing. People who helped him feel seen. Who helped him believe he could succeed. He calls them lighthouses—and their impact, “the lighthouse effect.”

I imagine many of you can call to mind a lighthouse from your own life—someone who guided you when things felt dark or uncertain. Someone who shined a light that helped you find your way back to yourself. Some of those lighthouses are likely here with you today. And chances are, in being illuminated by them, you began to discover your own light too.

This idea is echoed beautifully in the words of Marianne Williamson, which Mia just read: “As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” People who live out the lighthouse effect don’t just guide—they liberate. They show us that fear doesn’t have to win. But the fear we must confront most, Williamson reminds us, is not of darkness, but of our own brilliance. “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

What if we truly believed that? That we are powerful—not someday, but now? What might change if we stopped holding back, if we allowed ourselves to shine fully? Not with arrogance, but with purpose. Not only to light our way, but to guide others.

That hidden light—that quiet power for good—is what author John Koenig seeks to name in The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. One of my favorite entries is the word silience: "The unnoticed brilliance that we all carry. The light which, if we let it shine, could illuminate the world."

Class of 2025, you all carry that brilliance. We have seen it in your science inquiry projects and research. In the way you’ve played and performed—on the field, on stage (even on roller skates), and in the classroom. In the stories you’ve told, the music you've composed, the art you’ve created, the sports you’ve played. We’ve seen your light in moments of collaboration, compassion, courage, and creativity. And there is so much more light within you still.

As you prepare to launch into the next phase of your journey, the seas will not always be calm. For you, or for the people around you. So, follow the light—and be a lighthouse. Be the steady beam that guides others through the fog. Let your silience shine. Because this world needs your light more than ever.