Harvard College Baccalaureate for the Class of 2025

By Richard Y. Rodgers

Source: Niko Yaitanes/Harvard Magazine

Tuesday morning, the Class of 2025 filed into Tercentenary Theater with grand ceremony, if little actual ceremony. The Baccalaureate, once a reverent Christian send-off, has evolved—or perhaps devolved—into a liturgical Frankenstein, a hodgepodge of religious truths and untruths made into an unholy creature unfit for the eyes of the faithful. The only dogma that was preached from the steps of Memorial Church is that all dogmas are welcome. In other words, it was a service that sought the sacred everywhere but found it nowhere.

Presiding over this spiritual amalgamation was Matthew Potts, MDiv ’08, PhD ’13, Pusey Minister in the Memorial Church, who declared, “This is a sacred ceremony—but not primarily because we are having readings from Scripture. It’s a sacred ceremony because of you.” To be clear, when Christ said, “Where two or three are gathered in my name…” He did not mean the name of Potts, or the name of Harvard, or the name of the Class of 2025.¹ The ceremony, he assured us, was “traditionally religious,” but the tradition had been refitted, airbrushed of its Christian roots, and made into something vague and humanistic and harmless to Leftist sensibilities.

What followed was a montage of interfaith readings and spiritual gestures—some earnest, some bewildering, and many carried out in languages unknown to the majority of attendees—no doubt a collective metaphor for the ceremony.

First came George “Tink” Tinker, who began not in English, nor in Latin, nor in glossolalia, but in some language befitting his feathered séance. Evolving into proper English, he offered a reminder that the graduates were graduating into a “tumultuous world of crisis.” He pointed out the American Indian students in the crowd, who had been—I was shocked to learn— battling this tumult for 532 years. That’s quite a losing streak. Pagan tchotchke in hand, he noted the need for these Harvard-educated students to remember what they learned before they came to Harvard: the “People’s knowledge.” He offered this challenge to the crowd: “When you get a chance to be with Indian people, learn what they know.” Flapping the wing in the air, he alerted the crowd that he had contacted the dead (or possibly invited demons into the gates of Harvard): “I have called in the wanagi from the four directions, called in their energies from above and below, to asked them to be with you for this moment.”

Thankfully, Tammy McLeod of Cru offered a moment of genuine gravity: a silence to honor friends and family lost during the college years. This offered a scarce breath of sincerity, which, in this service, felt almost scandalously Christian.

A Hindu reading in Sanskrit and its English counterpart told the tale of the demon Krishna, who, to be fair, had some reasonable advice about duty, though nothing one couldn’t glean more clearly from following the true God or a halfway-decent sermon from one of the priestesses on stage.

The Zoroastrian chaplain, Daryush Mehta, chanted before extolling “the lord of wisdom.” Alas, no glory is due to Ahura Mazda.

A Muhammadan reading, performed in Arabic and English, drew applause, and Carrie Ballenger, Lutheran chaplain, approached the podium dressed like a man (wearing a Roman collar). She offered a blessing, but unfortunately, she lacks the authority to do that.

There was a reading in ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i and English for the Kanaka ‘Ōiwi practitioners. This would have been quite lovely if not for the fact that the text was some false account of Creation.

Jason Rubenstein ’04, executive director of Harvard Hillel, reminded the crowd that, should they begin to judge themselves or others unfairly, they ought to turn their hearts toward Heaven. I’m tempted to agree, but I'm curious about the Talmudic understanding of Heaven, given the tradition’s treatment of Christ.

The crowd was next treated to Sikh and Buddhist readings. Livingston Zug ’26 announced the singing of an original composition by Isaac Newman ’25, then read the lyrics of the song, informing the crowd that they were about to endure an admittedly beautifully sung song that ultimately said nothing at all. That, I submit, was the theme of the entire event.

The high point—or at least the most bizarre—was the benediction by Gloria White-Hammond, MDiv ’97. White-Hammond, also dressed like a man, lauded “the rich tapestry comprised of the diverse members of the Class of 2025.” She continued to praise the different “races, religions, gender identities, ethnicities, countries of origin, and adaptive accommodations” of the soon-to-be graduates. “Diversity looks good on ya,” she exclaimed to much inexplicable applause. She then noted her age, acting as if the crowd had been dying to know; then, in light of her age, she declared she “had something to say.” That something was yet another recognition of the class’s diversity and her refusal to pass the torch of social grievance to the next generation of the perpetually oppressed. “We are here to [stoke] the fire of your torch,” she said. “Everybody needs to be carrying a torch in 2025.” She then unabashedly gave her resume and read from the Book of Hebrews. In light of St. Paul, I did my best to block her out.² ³

The crowd was then treated to more Jewish readings, sourced from Hillel the Elder. Khalil Abdur-Rasdid, Harvard’s Muhammadan chaplain, did another reading. He invoked “the one God” while failing to acknowledge that the one God is triune—a fact our Muslim brothers deny. Fortunately, his speech gave me time to doodle illustrations of Muhammad in my Notes app.

Throughout the ceremony, the Radcliffe Choral Society, Harvard Commencement Choir, and University Band performed with considerable talent, including the beautiful “Deus Omnium Creator,” which was as close to Christian fidelity as the service dared approach. Then Calvon Jones, Assistant Minister in the Memorial Church, offered a benediction in “the Black gospel tradition.” Very soulful.

Potts returned to bless us one final time, capping off a ceremony that had him speak twice but not of God once.

As I walked out of Tercentenary Theater, I found myself reflecting not on Harvard’s greatness, nor the triumph of this graduating class, but on Abraham’s plea in Genesis: “What if ten should be found there?” God said, “I will not destroy it for the sake of ten.”⁴ God may have spared the Yard that morning—but only barely.

1. Matthew 18:20 “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” (DRA)

2. 1 Corinthians 14:34-35: “Let women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted them to speak, but to be subject, as also the law saith. But if they would learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home. For it is a shame for a woman to speak in the church.” (DRA)

3. 1 Timothy 2:11-12: “Let the woman learn in silence, with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to use authority over the man: but to be in silence.” (DRA)

4. Genesis 18:32 (DRA)