In 1940, during World War II, London was under siege. Every night, bombers roared overhead, dropping bombs on homes, hospitals, schools, and churches. Families took cover underground in subway tunnels, in shelters, anywhere they could hide. The air above was thick with smoke and fear. One night, a visiting journalist walked through a shelter after a raid. He noticed something surprising: a small boy, about five years old, fast asleep in his mother’s lap, relaxed his head on her bosom like it was the safest place on earth. The journalist asked the mother, “Were you not afraid?” She replied, “Yes, I was afraid. But my son was not looking at the sky; he was looking at me. As long as I was calm, he felt safe.” That child slept peacefully that night not because the world was peaceful, but because he was close to someone he trusted; because he focused on the one he trusted.
My dear Class of 2025, families, friends, faculty, and staff, what a great joy to celebrate this Baccalaureate Mass with you; this sacred pause between what has been and what is yet to come! Tonight, we take our theme from the prophet Isaiah: “The People who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” And to you, the Class of 2025, we say with joy: at last, you see the light; not just the light at the end of the academic tunnel, but the light of the women you are becoming; the light of wisdom, strength, faith, and hope that shines through you.
In the first reading, the Prophet Isaiah was writing to a people weighed down by fear, conflict, and confusion. They lived in dark times. But into that darkness, God sent a promise: a light is coming. In these past four years, you too have walked through dark moments individually and collectively. Think of the uncertainties of your freshman year; you were unsure of how you would fit into this new world. Think of the deadlines you almost missed. Think of the challenges you faced in your families that made you doubt the possibility of returning to OLP the next semester. But through it all, you kept going; you learned to hope again. And now, at last, you see the light.
Amidst the confusion and darkness, Isaiah, through the power of God, promises a great light. Later in the passage, he describes the great light: “For unto us a child is born, a son is given… and his name shall be Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” So, the great light Isaiah talks about is not a spotlight; the light is a person, he is Jesus Christ, who gives himself to us not just to shine on ourselves but to carry the light into the world. You have received formation here in the classrooms, in the chapel, on the track and the field, in the friendship forged and the hardships overcome. The light of Christ has been planted in you that you may carry the light wherever you go.
What does it mean to carry the light into the world? It does not mean you will always be confident or that life will always be easy. It means when others are mean, you bring compassion; when the world seems hopeless, you dare to believe in beauty and goodness; when others are silent or try to be politically correct, you speak the truth with love; and when you are afraid, you walk in faith, not fear. Remember, light does not have to be loud, it just has to show up. Even the smallest candle can pierce a deep darkness. The darker the world is, the more relevant your light must be.
My dear sisters, never forget your patroness, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Our Lady of Peace. She received the light of Christ and keeps shining. Imagine all she underwent, yet, never failed to shine. At the annunciation, the Angel stormed her with the news of the Virgin Birth, at the presentation, Simeon told her, “A sword will pierce your soul;” at the age of twelve, her divine son went missing for three long days; she witnessed her innocent son carry a cross that was not his, and die a death that was not his. This humble and saintly mother remained under the Cross until they placed the lifeless body of her only child on her lap. Despite all of these, she did not collapse; she did not run away. She did not fail to shine. Why? Because, like the five-year-old boy in our opening story in London, Mary was not looking at the sky, she was looking at the One she trusted, she was looking at the Light, she was looking at God.
My dear class of 2025, as you move on, there will still be darkness in the world, hatred will still be in the world, bullying will not stop. But how can you shine in such a world? You can, like the child in the shelter in London, shine by staying close to the one you have been taught to trust, Jesus Christ, in the Holy Eucharist. You can, by praying the rosary, sitting beside your patroness, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Our Lady of Peace, to learn from her peacefulness and trust in God. Yes, thanks be to God, at last, you see the light. Now, you must go and be the light. Amen.
Homily At 2025 OLP Baccalaureate Mass
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