May Day

May 1 is a big day in much of Europe, as I learned firsthand ten years ago while studying in Prague for the spring term of my sophomore year at Dartmouth. Communities in the countryside organize festivals featuring maypoles, dancing, athletic competitions, and other celebrations of the season. Cities play host to parades and rallies that honor the dignity and contributions of workers, organized by the trade unions which, a mere generation ago, provided much of the physical, political, and social momentum that drove totalitarian governments from power.

Here in the United States, it's just another day in the office, on the factory floor, or on the road for those of us blessed with employment in an economy that, despite any empirical gains in strength and vitality it has achieved in the past year, remains a source of fear and anxiety for far too many people. Whatever the unemployment figure may be in the minds of economists and policymakers, it represents men and women of many ages and backgrounds who find themselves unable to work, and obscures the very real, unique, and sometimes private struggles of those who desire to contribute to the needs of their families, communities, and nation through the tangible, productive, and dignified labor of their bodies and minds.

As I live and work on a college campus, I'm aware of some particular significance that attaches to May Day in our corner of the higher education landscape. Today is the last day for high school seniors across the country who have been offered admission to Holy Cross to postmark and submit their deposit, the first formal installment of a four-year investment of time, money, study, formation, and experience that will transform them in yet-unimagined ways. For the members of the Class of 2012, commencement exercises are a mere two dozen days away, bringing not only a formal conclusion to their fine and distinguished tenure at Holy Cross, but also a raft of emotions distributed across the full spectrum of the human experience– hopes and anxieties, elation and sadness, conviction and uncertainty. In conversations with some of them over lunch, after Mass, or between classes, it's clear that there's much on their minds and hearts, whether or not they're sufficiently comfortable or unhurried– deadlines for papers and upcoming exams loom large in this final week of classes– to articulate them aloud.

There's plenty of work to be done– in our communities, in our country, in our world– towards ensuring justice, peace, stability, health, and productivity among all people. There's much to celebrate in the lives of those who labor to accomplish these goals and provide these goods to their loved ones and their neighbors. There's much to support, develop, and encourage in the community of study, service, and reflection that exists here at Holy Cross, so that our next class of graduates will go out and take their place in this great human enterprise. On a quiet, cold, and rainy morning (apparently, April showers are late this year), that's the work in which I'm grateful to be involved, and in which I place a great deal of confidence and hope.