The Prep community gathered for the Mass of the Holy Spirit this morning. A tradition at Jesuit schools since the 16th century, the Mass of the Holy Spirit joyfully opens the academic year, invoking the Holy Spirit to guide our studies. The student campus ministers, altar servers, and musicians all contributed to a particularly beautiful Mass in the much-cherished Chapel of Our Lady of Lourdes. This Mass marks the official and celebratory welcome from the students to their brothers in the new freshman class. During the Mass, Sam Pentz and Luke Crawford were officially installed and blessed as this year's President and Vice President of the Yard.

Fr. Van Dyke, S.J.'s homily reflects on God's promise through the prophet Jeremiah, that even amid the disasters of our world and our own lives, disaster and exile never have the last word; only God does, and his word is life. Father Van Dyke's homily:

For I know well my plans for you: plans for your peace, and not for disaster. – Jer 39:11

My brothers and sisters, one of the worst myths about religion is that it should comfort us.  And this saying from Jeremiah certainly seems to fit the bill.  But context is important.  Let me repeat that so that the English Department can nod in profound agreement: context is always important.

This prophecy by Jeremiah comes after the complete destruction of Israel, a destruction he had warned against for years.  For years Jeremiah and the other prophets had pointed out to the kings of Judea and Israel, to the priests of the Temple, and to the people, how far they had strayed from the covenant.  Yes, they went to temple and to synagogue.  Yes, they studied the Torah.  Yes, they paid their tithes.  But they had forgotten the poor, the widows, the orphans, the refugees, the strangers.  They practiced their religion but they had forgotten what it asked of them: that they should be living signs of the compassion of God himself.  Instead, counting on their special relationship with God, they had piled up treasure for themselves, and accrued power for themselves, and had sought to take their place among the nations of the earth.  But it was all for themselves, for their egos, not for the good of all, not for the care of those in need.  They thought God would protect them for themselves.  But that was not the covenant that God had made with them.  And so God had to let them have it their way – had to let them be like any other nation, to fare in the world as they could, counting on their own power, on their own wealth, and not on God’s love. 

And they could not do it.  Wave after wave of invaders came in until finally the Babylonians took Jerusalem and razed it to the ground.  The Temple, the very house of God: gone!  The great palaces: gone!  The kings and the princes and the priests: gone!  And the Babylonians deported the vast bulk of the population to Babylon, far from home, far from the land they had been promised.  Now they were the refugees.  Now they were the strangers.  Now they were the widows and orphans.

There in their exile was written the saddest of the psalms, Psalm 137:

By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept

   when we remembered Zion.

 There on the poplars

    we hung our harps,

 for there our captors asked us for songs,

    our tormentors demanded songs of joy;

    they said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

(Ps. 137:1-3)

It was into that sad reality that God made this promise: that exile and disgrace were real, but they would not have the last word.  That the restoration was greater than the abandonment, that grace would always be greater than sin.

My brothers and sisters, we heard a few moments ago a passage from the Gospels which is sobering, to say the least: wars and rumors of war, earthquakes and famine, storms and signs in the heavens.  But it is important to remember, these things are everyday things: they are the history of the natural and human world.  There are always wars and storms and famines and earthquakes.  And as the passage reminds us, we are asked in the midst of all these things to trust that same promise, to stand up and lift up our heads, to trust that these things do not have the last word.  That only God has the last word, and his word is life. 

We live in a tough world, there is no getting around that fact.  And life can be tough for any one of us.  I’ve been seeing so many of you in slings and boots and on crutches, disappointed that the season you dreamed of, that you worked for, may over.  And we worry about ourselves, our friends our loved ones.  These are the everyday disasters that we face.  And they will happen, we can bet on that.

But my brothers and sisters, the promise still holds: none of the disasters – not the great disasters of the world nor our own personal disasters – none of them have the last word.  No, God alone gets that, and his last word is life!  Life! And not a little bit of life, but life to the fullest. 

So, let us listen then again, and listen well:

For I know well my plans for you:

plans for your peace, and not for disaster.

                                             – Jer 39:11

My brothers and sisters, that promise is for us too, and our God asks us to trust it that we might be what we were created to be – signs of his compassion here in our community and indeed for his world.

 

Headmaster John Glennon's remarks, delivered as this year's Post-Communion Address, wove together three stories — a pile of rocks, a group of nuns, and his close friend Austin Martin — into a reflection on what fortitude gives us, how we grow in it, and the lasting impact it leaves on the people we love. Read Headmaster Glennon's remarks: 

Good morning Gentlemen,

Those of you who like reading long but well-written emails know that Father Van Dyke has dubbed 26-27 as the Year of Fortitude. This morning I'm going to try and teach you a little bit about what I know about fortitude. By the time I'm done up here I hope I've at least given you something to think about when it comes to these three questions:

- What will fortitude do for you?
- How can you acquire more of it?
- What impact is it going to have on other people if you develop it?

In order to do that in a way that at least some of you will remember, I'm going to talk about three things: a pile of rocks, a group of nuns, and my friend, Austin Martin.
Let's start with the rocks and what fortitude can do for you…

If you go across campus to the Residence Hall, walk up to the 5th floor you will find this amazing roof deck where you can look down on Historic Fegan-Galvin Field. And if you look to your right at the north end zone you are going to see the Greek word: “Hoya”. If you turn toward your left and look down at the south end zone — the one adjacent to the George Center — you will see the Latin word: “Saxa.” Most of you have heard those words before and even associate them with Georgetown Prep. The Georgetown Prep Hoyas. The booster chant: “Hoya Saxa.” But my guess is many of you have no idea: what those words mean, why they are associated with Prep, or what they have to do with fortitude.

Good news: I'm going to tell you about the legend of where they come from. To understand it you have to go back to 1891 and a football game against Swarthmore College. You see back then Georgetown Prep had not yet moved out here to North Bethesda. We were located on the same campus where Georgetown University is located today, down next to the Potomac River in Georgetown. Back then the school's football field was on the front lawn of the campus and it was surrounded by a stone wall — that pile of rock that I mentioned earlier. The team was known for their unbelievable defense and was even nicknamed “the stonewalls.” Back then all the students had to take Latin just like you do, but they also had to take Greek. So the boosters at the time came up with this cheer to celebrate the “fortitude,” or strength, of the team's defense. The word Hoya is the Greek word for the question “what,” and the word Saxa is the Latin word for rocks. What rocks?... the defense. What rocks?... The team? What rocks? — Georgetown Prep. Hoya Saxa came to be in order to celebrate the amazing defense of the team. Hoya Saxa came into existence to celebrate the virtue of fortitude.

The dictionary will tell you that the definition of fortitude is “courage and strength in bearing pain, or trouble, or challenge.” If you build up your fortitude, one way to think about it is this: you become a rock that can stand up to any challenge. Just like that Georgetown defense in 1891. Fortitude disposes us to do what is good and right in spite of any difficulty that may come our way. The Catholic Church considers fortitude a Cardinal Virtue. Cardinal coming from the Latin “CARDO” or “hinge.” The other virtues hinge, hang, or depend on the Cardinal Virtues.

But when I want to understand fortitude, I like to think about that pile of rocks at Georgetown. That's what having fortitude will do for you:

- Fortitude is a bedrock that you can build on.
- A strong foundation in a storm.

I told you I would help you understand fortitude by talking about a pile of rocks, a group of nuns, and my friend Austin Martin. So now you know about the rocks. You ready to hear about the nuns?

Fortitude is a very manly virtue. And that's appropriate because we are hoping to help all of you become strong men. But if you want to learn how to acquire more fortitude, we need to talk about a lesson that I learned from a group of women. The IHM Sisters. The nuns I was telling you about.

After I got out of grad school I moved to Philadelphia and joined up with a group of people to help start a new high school. I was there for four years helping to get it off the ground. It was amazing. It's still going strong — in fact they are celebrating their 15th anniversary this year. Just like Georgetown Prep is founded by and sponsored by the Jesuits, the school I worked at in Philly was founded by another group of people, a group of nuns: the IHM Sisters. I had never worked with nuns before I moved to Philly and, to be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect. Well, turns out, the sisters are amazing people. Like the Jesuits, they have thought a lot about people and a lot about God and a lot about how to live life in such a way that you love God and help other people. The sisters have this amazing concept called creative hope. You could say for them it's as important and pervasive as the idea of becoming a man for others is in Jesuit circles. If you want to acquire more fortitude than you currently have, it's not just about trying to be tougher, or harder, or more “like a rock.” Instead, I would advise you that creative hope is the key.

What is creative hope? Here's how the IHM Sisters define it:

- Have confidence that God loves us
- Seek to make a way where there seems to be no way
- Attempt to engender hope in the young and vulnerable and help them look to the future with fresh eyes
- Never give up on anyone.

So, if you want to develop more fortitude, don't just try to be a tough guy; listen to the nuns, the IHM Sisters, and fill your heart with creative hope.

Alright, so we talked about the pile of rocks and the group of nuns, so now it's time to talk about my friend, Austin Martin. Austin and I have been very good friends since we went to high school together at the Jesuit high school in Boston: BC High, or Boston College High School. We also went to college together at Georgetown University. I've known Austin for 35 years. We met in the fall of 1991 when we were both freshmen at BC High. Well, early this week, on Wednesday, Austin died. He had a lot of fortitude. He battled cancer for 3.5 years. Let me tell you, he had a boatload of fortitude, and he died on Wednesday. He didn't beat cancer. But because of his fortitude, I can tell you this: it didn't beat him either. Yes, he suffered just like anyone else from the effects of chemo and radiation, the physical pain, the mental challenge of facing death. But because of his fortitude — it never beat him. It never broke him, it didn't even really debilitate him until the very end. He kept working all the way through. But more importantly he kept playing the role of loving husband, amazing dad, dependable friend. He kept giving back. His love and generosity toward his parents and wife, and brothers, and kids — never wavered. He kept impacting them through those strong relationships that he had. Through this talk I hope all of you understand Austin and who he was and appreciate the impact of his fortitude on those around him. I don't have time to tell you every detail of his life. The third period teachers are already nervous that this is going too long. But here's how I am going to help you understand Austin, his impact on this world, and the effect his fortitude has on other people.

I want each of you to think about your own father. Well, Austin IS a dad to Isabelle and Graham. Like many of you, Isabelle is beginning her senior year of high school. Like many of you, Graham is beginning his freshman year of high school. Take a moment and think about your dad and the support he provides you. That IS Austin.

For those of my colleagues who are married, think of your husband or your wife. Austin IS Lindsay's husband. Because of his fortitude, he IS her rock.

Finally, I'd like each of you to think about your own best friends. Can you picture them? Think about the impact they have on you. The security, the safety, you feel knowing that they will be there for you. The joy you have felt when they used their creative hope to get you out of a jam. Or the laughs you have thinking about the trouble they have gotten you into. Well, Austin IS my friend. That's what I want you all to know about him: I want you to understand the impact he has on his kids, his family, his friends.

When death comes it brings pain. It brings sorrow. But it also brings clarity about what really matters in life and how this all really works.

Some of you might have been wondering about my choice of verb tense. I told you that Austin IS Graham and Isabelle's dad and he IS Lindsay's husband and he IS my friend. But I also told you that he died on Wednesday. Well, here's the power of fortitude… Here is the thing about relationships: they don't follow the same grammar rules that we teach you in Latin and English class.

When it comes to the things that really matter in life: God, family, true friendships — verb tense doesn't exist. The past, the present, and the future as separate things… that's not how life really works. They are more mixed together than we realize at first. Austin and I have been friends for a long time. We are still friends now. He always will be my friend. Nothing will end our friendship. Nothing. Certainly not cancer. Because of the fortitude he possessed, he will continue to be a rock of strength for all who knew and loved him.

Gentlemen, I hope you learned something about fortitude this morning from a pile of rocks, a group of nuns, and my friend Austin Martin. It was my privilege to be able to share them with you.

– HOYA SAXA

AMDG 2026