2026 Commencement Address

May 28, 2026

It is a privilege to address the class of 2026 on the occasion of your commencement.

I remember when I sat, as you do now, surrounded by classmates, wearing identical gowns, waiting to receive our degrees. It is somewhat surreal. This is the moment toward which you have been working diligently since you entered college. But it is also a transition so momentous and abrupt that it is difficult to believe it is actually taking place. It’s an out of body experience that feels like it must be happening to someone else. Your minds are swirling with emotion as you anticipate, a cruelly short time from now: saying tearful goodbyes to your closest friends, with whom you have spent these precious years; simultaneously sharing joyful reunions with your families, who are bursting with pride and happiness; and then facing the hard, inescapable reality of driving down the road, while your beloved campus recedes in the rearview mirror.

Before you do, let’s take a moment to reflect on what you have done here, and on what your time in this place has done to you.

For starters, you’ve had a lot of fun. College is supposed to be fun. Making friends. Practicing and competing with your teammates. Singing, dancing, and acting. Lounging in the sun on front campus. Hiking, climbing, and tubing. Traveling far and wide. Sometimes you have included me in the fun. We have played chess, pickle ball, and golf, gone fly fishing, had meals together at D-Hall, Hillel, and Lee House. Spending time with you is, hands down, the best part of my job.

While you were at it, you were also becoming increasingly independent and capable adults.  That is the purpose of education. And it is what brings us here today. Having spent four years in the incubator that is Washington and Lee, you are ready to take on the world, and it is time to leave the nest.  

The Arc of College 

Graduating from college is a significant moment. Today we celebrate your many achievements, certify your learning, and award you a degree. Even more importantly, this ceremony – like those announcing the birth of a child or the marriage of a couple – marks the commencement of an entirely new phase of life.

Think back to your arrival four years ago. You were teenagers, landing in Lexington from all over the country and around the world. Most of you were leaving home for the first time. It was a big deal.  But it was also a predictable step on a largely prescribed path. You had long been expected to go to college, and you worked hard in high school to make it happen. The question wasn’t whether you would go, but where. I am glad you chose W&L.

Your new college life offered greater independence than living at home, but it also came with a lot of support. When you unpacked your bags in Gaines or Graham-Lees, there were cheerful RAs waiting to help you settle in. When you puzzled over which courses to take, there were dedicated faculty members available to help you craft a schedule. When you were hungry, there was Coop. When you needed a ride there was Traveler.

Today is different. Today, you are full-blown adults, setting out to make your own way in the world.  You have more freedom than you have ever enjoyed. You have more responsibility than you have ever carried. And you face big questions that only you can answer:

What work is important to me? Which place will I call home? Who do I want to be with?

Your future is wide open. Which is exciting. But also daunting. And quintessentially human. We are the creature fated to ask: Who am I?  What do I want to make of myself? How will I spend my allotment of time on planet earth?

If it feels like a lot, which it probably does, take comfort in the fact that every single person coming of age – past or present, rich or poor, famous or obscure – has faced those questions. You are not alone. In fact, you’re in good company.

For consolation, inspiration, and fodder for your imagination, let’s look to history.

Meriwether Lewis

W&L has been here for 277 years, so what better place to look than here. And since we are gathered in front of Washington Hall, let’s start with him.

We all know George Washington literally put this country on the map, where it had formerly been thirteen disparate colonies. And he put this school on the map with his personal donation in 1796, which transformed Liberty Hall Academy – still visible in the ruins above our athletic fields – into Washington College.

George Washington invested in this school in the service of his vision of this country. He saw that the future of the United States lay to the west. And he knew that democracy cannot succeed without well-educated citizens.  Washington concluded that good education was needed on the frontier, so he donated to Liberty Hall, making it the first college west of the Appalachians.

The year Washington made his gift, another man, exactly your age, was pondering his future, just as you are doing this morning. Meriwether Lewis was born in 1774 in Albemarle County, Virginia, where some of you grew up. He was raised on land facing Rockfish Gap in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  Today, we drive through that gap on I-64 to get to Charlottesville. To the young Lewis, gazing up at it from the fields day after day, it was the enticing space on the horizon that promised a path to the west.

Unlike you, Meriwether Lewis had little formal schooling. What he did have connected him to Rockbridge County. He was tutored by Matthew Maury. The river that runs through Lexington, where some of you swim and fish, is named for his nephew. Lewis was also tutored by James Waddell. The elementary school where some of you taught local children is named for his great-grandson.

Like you, Meriwether Lewis was attached to this place. Like you, he set out from here to forge his future.  For starters, he volunteered for the Virginia Militia, which helped President Washington put down the infamous Whiskey Rebellion. But ironically, Lewis drank too much himself and got in trouble with the army. He was given a second chance when Thomas Jefferson, also from Albemarle County, became president. In 1803, Jefferson executed the Louisiana Purchase, expanding the United States to include all of the land draining into the great Mississippi River from the west.

That sounded good on paper, and the price was right, but the scope and nature of that land was a complete mystery. It was literally uncharted territory.  Jefferson hoped it would be possible to travel by inland waterways from the Potomac River in Washington clear across to the Pacific Ocean. That turned out to be false. The Rocky Mountains got in the way. Jefferson expected the Rockies to be about the same size as the Appalachians. That was false too. Truth be told, he had no idea what was out there. Jefferson needed someone brave and resourceful enough to go explore half a continent.

Lewis accepted the commission and set out with his trusty sidekick William Clark, a handful of men, a few boats, some weapons and supplies. They had no GPS. No means of communication. Lewis didn’t know how long they would be gone, or whether he would ever see his mother again. For the next three years, as they made their way to the Pacific and back, they had to kill their food, build their shelter, and negotiate their safety with Native tribes. I think about their journey when I’m sitting in an airport, sipping a nice cup of coffee, and feeling sorry for myself because my flight is delayed a couple of hours. Somehow, Lewis and his men lived to tell the tale, and he returned triumphantly to report to Jefferson and the Congress on the geography, geology, biology, and Native inhabitants of the United States.

Meriwether Lewis could have enjoyed a comfortable existence working his family farm in Virginia. Instead, he chose an uncertain, risky, and dangerous path because it gave meaning to his life by putting all of his considerable talents to good use in the service of his country. In the process, he became a legend.

If you need a good book, I recommend Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose, which is an excellent account of the Lewis and Clark expedition.

Let’s consider one more historical example.

Marquis de Lafayette

Thomas Jefferson and Meriwether Lewis couldn’t have dreamed about and explored the west if George Washington hadn’t first dreamed about and established the United States. During the Revolutionary War to secure America’s independence from Britain, one of Washington’s most trusted officers was the Marquis de Lafayette.

Lafayette was born in 1757 in rural France, which is a long way from Albemarle County. By 1770, when he was only 12 years old, both his parents and his wealthy uncle had died, leaving the young lad completely alone in the world and one of the richest people in Europe. The French nobility wasted no time in trying to ingratiate themselves with this eligible pre-teen bachelor. Lafayette was taken in by one the most distinguished aristocratic families, who quickly married him off to their daughter and merged their substantial fortunes.

By the age of 18, when you were headed off to college, Lafayette had a wife and a child. He was also a member of the inner circle at the French Court, attending nightly parties at the Palace of Versailles hosted by his former schoolmate and fellow teenager, King Louis XVI, and his wife Marie Antoinette.  It was like living in a fraternity house while also being in charge of a major European country.

Life at the court was easy and lavish, and Lafayette could have enjoyed it indefinitely. But it wasn’t for him. He found it superficial and boring. Lafayette wanted something to do.

On July 6th, 1776, two months before his 19th birthday, and just two days after the American Declaration of Independence, opportunity presented itself in the unlikely form of Silas Deane, a lawyer from Connecticut. Deane showed up in Paris, pretending to do business but in fact secretly recruiting French help for the war against Britain. He didn’t need to twist Lafayette’s arm. Not yet a legal adult, Lafayette signed up to fight for the United States without telling his father-in-law. He agreed that he would receive no compensation for his services, and moreover, that he would spend a substantial amount of his own money to build a ship to sail to America.

Before embarking, Lafayette changed his family motto. For generations it had asserted, rather earnestly: “determination is enough to overcome adversity.”  Perhaps true. But the teenage patriarch, now in charge, made it shorter and more playful. Lafayette chose to operate under the motto: “Why not?”

Why not, indeed. Having pronounced his guiding principle, Lafayette then walked the walk, risking everything – his wealth, his marriage, his life – to fight for radical ideals – liberty, equality, democracy – that mattered to him above all else. He helped the United States succeed, commanding troops at the decisive Battle of Yorktown, and then returned home to do it all over again, playing a central role in the French Revolution that overthrew the royalty who had been his childhood friends.

For his contributions to establishing representative democracy in America and in France, Lafayette is known as the “hero of two worlds,” and I recommend the book with that title by Mike Duncan.

Embrace Your Adventure

What does any of this have to do with you?

Lewis and Lafayette were 18th century men. Farmers, soldiers, navigating an era of political revolution, national expansion, the clash of empires.

You are 21st century women and men, digital natives, living in a world they could not have imagined.

But you also have much in common. You are, as they once were, young, talented, and eager to make a difference. You face, as they once did, the same universal human predicament and opportunity:  choosing what to do with your life as you stand on the cusp of adulthood.

I am not suggesting you emulate Lewis and Lafayette in every respect. Don’t ghost your mom for years at a time like Meriwether Lewis. Think long and hard before abandoning your family to fight in a foreign war like Lafayette.

But I do encourage you, like them, to embrace your adventure, whatever that might be. Find your calling – the Rockfish Gap that stirs your imagination and pulls you forward. Identify your motto, the core principles that will guide your decisions.

Understand that life is long and your path will be winding. It may not involve a trans-continental trek or a trans-Atlantic crossing in a wooden ship. But it will almost certainly be different from what you can currently imagine.

You can’t plan your whole life out in advance. Point yourself in a direction that makes sense to you now. Put one foot in front of the other. Give your best effort. And see where it takes you.

Along the way, be open to your own evolution. What matters to you will change over time. Be open to chance encounters that deflect your trajectory. That could be meeting the love of your life. Or it could be receiving a professional offer you didn’t expect. Lewis couldn’t have become a legend if Jefferson didn’t purchase the Louisiana territory and ask him to explore it. Lafayette couldn’t have become a hero if Silas Dean didn’t invite him to join the revolution.

When your chances come along, have the confidence to bet on yourself. Have the courage to take calculated risks. Not every bet will pay off. You will need to persist through disappointments and setbacks. Lewis and his men had to eat their dogs and horses to survive. Lafayette endured five years in solitary confinement when the French radicals turned on him. But they persevered and ultimately succeeded, as will you.

Most importantly, as our men’s basketball coach, Chris McHugh, never fails to remind his squad:  enjoy the journey.  Life is not a contest to get to a destination. It is a long series of shared experiences. Don’t treat what you are doing at the moment merely as a means to something else. Relish each stage for its own sake. You will be happier and accomplish more of your dreams too.

Launch

You are ready for this. Liberal arts education does not train you for any particular job. That is a feature, not a bug.  Liberal arts education prepares you for what you cannot anticipate. It gets you ready to make the most of the rest of your life.

The students who took my philosophy class know the W&L mission by heart:

Washington and Lee university provides a liberal arts education that develops students’ capacity to think freely, critically, and humanely, and to conduct themselves with honor, integrity, and civility. Graduates will be prepared for lifelong learning, personal achievement, responsible leadership, service to others, and engaged citizenship in a global and diverse society.

As free and critical thinkers, you are prepared to know yourselves, to determine what matters to you. As people of integrity, you are prepared to be true to yourselves, to pursue what matters in light of your core principles. And as responsible leaders, you are prepared to inspire others to join you in the endeavors that matter.

And, so, it is time. Let’s take one final glance backward together. Class of ’26, stand with me, turn and face the Colonnade, and take a moment to reflect on your time in this place. Now turn, face forward, and anticipate the future with confidence and courage. Resolve to set a course, make a plan, act on it, and periodically assess how things are going. Rinse and repeat that process for the next 50 years.

Whatever life throws at you, enjoy the journey. You cannot know what the future holds. But you can take comfort in the education, the values, and the people – many sitting with you here today -- who will see you through it all.

If you will have me, I would like to consider myself an honorary member of the Class of ’26, hitting the road with you to embrace the adventure. I hope our paths will continue to cross. I hope you will tell me how your lives unfold. Most importantly, I hope you will return to Lexington often to reconnect with each other and with Washington and Lee.

But, for now, I send you on your way with congratulations, pride, and my very best wishes. Thank you.

And now for the main event. Having declared you ready to make us proud as graduates of this fine university, let’s make it happen.