Chairman Tanner, Chairman-elect Meinig, members of the Board of Trustees, Baccalaureate speaker Rabbi Jacobs, members of the faculty and staff, families and friends of the graduates, and most of all, members of the Class of 2002 and candidates for advanced degrees: Welcome to Cornell's Commencement. This is an occasion for all of us to celebrate the accomplishments of our students.

But most of all, today is a momentous day for the graduates -- in what has been a momentous year. You arrived, many of you, in August 1998, when the world was a safer, saner, more prosperous place. War, back then, was "Saving Private Ryan." It was vivid, terrible, and full of heroic action and sacrifice. But it was your grandfather's war -- not yours. The national crisis du jour involved the President and a Washington intern. Dot.coms were capturing venture capital with business plans that were often little more than good intentions wrapped in high hopes. But none of this mattered very much because many Americans were wealthy and contented, and enjoying the rewards of the longest peacetime economic expansion in history. We had only one nagging worry: What would life be like without Seinfeld?

But that was then. Today's graduates are earning their degrees in a year when events -- both domestic and international -- have caused enormous change and anxiety. The tragedy of September 11, anthrax-laced letters in the mail, the collapse of Enron and other major corporations, and the Palestinian-Israeli conflict have transformed the world into a more complicated and dangerous place. These events are all the more unsettling because they have crashed into our lives in rapid succession following a period of prosperity and American triumphalism at the successful end to the Cold War.

For our graduates, the stress and tension produced by world events are exacerbated by a much more difficult job market than their predecessors experienced. So while today is a day of celebration, as we recognize the achievements of Cornell's newest alumni, and applaud the support and encouragement they have received from their families, it is also a day tempered by the unprecedented world situation these graduates will now face. Bob Hope once said to a graduating class, "For those of you who are going out into the real world and want my advice, here it is: `Don't go.'" Dave Barry had the same idea when he spoke at Cornell a few years ago: "Tell your parents you're sophomores," he said. "They're old. They forget." But that was then. This is now. So let me give the graduates some words of encouragement -- and also an exhortation.

First the encouragement: You can be confident that Cornell has prepared you for this new kind of world, where conflict is real, daily, and often debilitating. Whether your degree is from the Arts College, or from the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences, or from the College of Engineering -- or from one of Cornell's other schools and colleges -- you have been "educated in depth" during your time at Cornell. And you leave equipped to continue educating yourself -- in depth -- in a world where change is rapid and often unsettling. Cornell is a university that creates and disseminates knowledge and instigates debate among all members of our community. It is a place where people extend themselves intellectually by digging into complex and unfamiliar subjects and trying to fit their knowledge into a coherent worldview. Those earning baccalaureate degrees today have immersed themselves in a curriculum laced with humanities and social sciences, no matter what their major. And they have benefited from their active involvement in the classroom with distinguished faculty members and classmates who are highly motivated.

In his Inaugural Address, Cornell's first president, Andrew D. White, admonished students, "You are not here to be made; you are here to make yourselves." Cornell students have been doing that with zest and independence for 134 years.

Since September 11, many of us have sought to broaden our horizons in other ways. Our first teach-in on September 17, organized by Isaac Kramnick, the Schwartz Professor of Government and vice provost, drew hundreds of Cornellians, who gathered in Call Alumni Auditorium to hear faculty panelists and to ask questions about the cause of terrorism and the likely U.S. response. Interest in the underlying causes of terrorism has continued this semester in many courses, including Global Conflict and Terrorism (ALS 494), which examined the subject from a variety of disciplinary perspectives with faculty members and outside speakers. Just last month, as the Israel-Palestine conflict entered a new and ominous phase, another Cornell teach-in provided a forum to discuss the conflict and its roots with local experts on the Middle East.

Within the "education in depth" you have gained at Cornell is an "ethical literacy" that comes from having confronted serious ethical questions and honed your own critical faculties. Last month, some of you attended a Cornell conference that examined the debates sparked by Patrick Tierney's book, Darkness in El Dorado: How Scientists and Journalists Devastated the Amazon. The book has generated a firestorm of controversy concerning the rights of indigenous people who are the subjects of anthropological research -- a controversy ignited, in part, by Terrence Turner, professor of anthropology at Cornell. The conference included representatives of the Yanomami tribes of Venezuela and Brazil, whose interactions with a well-known anthropologist in the 1960s are the subject of Mr. Tierney's book, and it raised pressing issues about the nature of academic research and the role universities play in examining society. Cornellians are not afraid to ask moral questions, even when they undermine traditional methods of academic inquiry.

There have been many other opportunities to develop ethical literacy during your years at Cornell, including those offered through the Program in Ethics and Public Life, in partnership with departments and colleges university-wide. Students in City and Regional Planning, for example, can examine "Ethics and Practical Judgment in Planning Practice." ILR offers an examination of the pivotal American theme of "Liberty and Justice for All." Government and Philosophy jointly offer a course on "Limiting War: The Morality of Modern State Violence" and another on "Global Thinking." In all, more than a dozen departments at Cornell -- in virtually every Cornell college -- offer courses that confront some aspect of ethics in public life, both domestic and international. Moral perspective and the tools for developing concrete, practical solutions to ethical problems, which you have acquired in these courses, will continue to serve you well as you become practicing citizens of the world.

There is another source of ethical literacy on our campus, which derives from the many religious traditions that find a home at Cornell. Because Cornell has such strong non-sectarian roots -- welcoming people of all religious persuasions or none at all -- religion and spirituality remain positive forces in the lives of many members of our community. Through Cornell United Religious Work (CURW), Cornell provides a home to some two dozen religious communities, in faiths from Islam to Buddhism to Paganism. They are all welcome here, and they all offer their own perspective on the meaning of mystery in our lives.

But to assert the value of religion in fostering ethical literacy is almost an oxymoron today. Religion seems to have joined race as a force for division in the world, too often spawning human misery and violence instead of offering solace or inspiring hope. The Catholic Church has had to confront a growing scandal involving pedophilia and sexual abuse. Terrorists have preyed upon the yearnings of impressionable young men -- and their lack of opportunities for success in this world -- to enlist them in a holy war, where death provides the path to reward. Palestinians and Israelis have turned what began as a conflict over territory into a religious war of suicide bombings and all-out military invasions. Scholars have advanced many theories to explain the excesses that modern religious fervor has spawned. Karen Armstrong, in her book The Battle for God, contends that in premodern times, myths and rituals of faith helped people accept the limitations of their lives, while a more rational and empirical mode of thought enabled them to make progress in the workaday world. Today, as Armstrong notes, rational thought is the ascendant style of knowing -- and it has been since at least the Enlightenment. That is especially true in the Western world, and particularly in universities, where empiricism is paramount and the rule of reason is unchallenged. Yet the loss or minimizing of myth and religious ritual has left a void in human consciousness, which, as Armstrong makes clear, fundamentalists have attempted to fill with "theologies of rage, resentment and revenge." Those theologies hit America with a vengeance on September 11. Given the enormity of that tragedy, one might have expected reprisals and calls for vengeance, especially here in New York, where many of us felt the losses directly and intensely. Cornell lost at least 40 members of its extended family and saw thousands of its neighbors in the city suffer from trauma and fear. As the poet Yeats wrote in his memorable lines from "The Second Coming," which described a world in crisis:

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world . . .
and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

But on this campus, the center did hold, and the best did not lack conviction: We saw our students, faculty and staff offer support not only to victims of 9/11, but to individuals and groups on campus who had reason to fear they would become targets of revenge. We have witnessed many acts of kindness -- some random, others concerted -- at Cornell this year, all of them aimed at alleviating fear and instilling confidence in our community.

I am pleased to say that we lost none of our students to anxiety about their place on campus. In fact, at Cornell we saw students of many faiths extend aid and encouragement to Muslims here. We saw faculty members offer their expertise and understanding to students of all backgrounds. And we saw religious groups attempting to seek reconciliation with others whom they have traditionally ignored or disdained.

Our Holiday Unity Celebration in Anabel Taylor Hall last December brought together various religious, ethnic and spiritual traditions in a "Gathering of Hope." Cornellians -- Muslims, Jews, Christians, Buddhists and others -- assembled to tell stories from their childhoods and their religious traditions and to discuss how those traditions incorporate the concept of hope into their teachings and values.

That celebration affirmed the spirit of hope and reconciliation that Archbishop Desmond Tutu brought to Cornell two years ago as the Bartels World Affairs Lecturer. Archbishop Tutu talked about the difficult process by which South Africa was able to move beyond the horrors of apartheid and begin to heal -- not by killing those who had been the former oppressors, or even by sending them to jail, but by offering them amnesty in exchange for truth. While many in South Africa called for retribution or revenge against those who had committed atrocities under apartheid, Desmond Tutu sought a "third way" -- restorative justice -- that would build a future through forgiveness.

"We can indeed transcend the conflicts of the past," Archbishop Tutu told us. "We can . . . realize our common humanity."

Many of today's graduates have strengthened our common humanity by volunteering to improve this campus and to assist the wider Ithaca community. Last fall, for example, Cornell senior Tamika Lewis founded BLEND -- an organization that promotes and celebrates the multi-racial experience on campus and in Ithaca. BLEND hosted several programs this year -- from a film series on interracial relationships to a photo exhibit on multiracial families. It also worked with the Beverly J. Martin Elementary School in downtown Ithaca to help children build their reading skills through books on multi-cultural themes. Earlier this spring BLEND earned the Perkins Prize for Interracial Understanding and Harmony in recognition of its efforts.

And as a positive response to the events of September 11, Muslim students from Cornell visited several local elementary schools this spring to promote an understanding of Muslim culture and history. Coordinated through Roots & Shoots -- the environmental and humanitarian organization founded by Cornell A.D. White Professor-at-Large Jane Goodall -- and supported by a grant from the Cornell Public Service Center, the students offered lessons about Muslim traditions, religion, food and dance. They worked with elementary school music teachers to teach children traditional Muslim songs and chants, and with local art teachers to help students create drawings expressing their hopes for the world. In a memorable culmination of their work, they presented the children's drawings to Jane Goodall during her visit to campus this spring.

These habits of the heart, informed by knowledge gained at Cornell, continue in our graduates long after Commencement. Although Cornellians find success in a wide variety of professional fields, a remarkable number of them continue to make service to others a fundamental aspect of their lives.

There is no better example of a life-long commitment to service than Harold Tanner, who retires next month as chairman of the Cornell Board of Trustees. Harold Tanner has made concern for Cornell and for our common humanity a major part of his life since graduating from this university 50 years ago. A 1952 graduate of the School of Industrial and Labor Relations, he has been one of Cornell's most dedicated and generous alumni and one of its most distinguished leaders, with two decades of service as a Cornell trustee. He is a model of what it means to be "educated in depth." He is equally at home chairing a meeting of the Board of Trustees, raising friends and funds for Cornell, or sitting on the Astroturf in Bartels Hall talking with students about what it means to be a Cornellian.

I like to think that a few decades from now one of you graduating today will fill a similar role as chairman or chairwoman of the Cornell Board of Trustees, and that you will bring to that position the same generosity of spirit and concern for Cornell and its students that Harold Tanner has lavished on our university for the past 50 years.

As Cornellians, you have lived together on campus in an atmosphere of critical but tolerant confrontation. You have done more than study the roots of global conflict in a detached, intellectual way. You have also affirmed that Cornell is an academic community rooted in a tradition of freedom with responsibility, which, as the renowned Cornell historian Carl Becker memorably said, gives you the freedom to do as you please, but also the responsibility for what it pleases you to do.

Freedom with responsibility is, in Becker's words, the "freedom for the scholar to perform his proper function, restrained and guided by the only thing that makes such freedom worthwhile, the scholar's intellectual integrity, the scholar's devotion to the truth of things as they are and to good will and humane dealing among men [and women]."

We saw the strength of this philosophy last fall, when we came together on the Arts Quad --13,000 strong -- three days after the terrorist attacks. We came to honor those who had been lost, to offer consolation to those in need, to acknowledge our common humanity, and to affirm our belief in Cornell as a diverse and open community committed to the ideal of freedom with responsibility within a democratic nation.

We will long remember the sound of the Cornell chimes calling us together that day, and the words spoken there by Professor of History Walter LaFeber, Director of CURW Ken Clarke, and senior theater arts major Jessica Heley. For many of us, it was the singing that was especially inspirational. Samite, a Ugandan musician and refugee who now lives in Ithaca, led the Cornell Glee Club and Chorus in the African song, "Ani Oyo" or "Who Is There?" -- and, with his encouragement, we all joined in. Cornell gained national recognition for the moral force of that day of remembrance, and it is no wonder: it was a memorable day for all of us.

Cornell is an open academic community in which you have played an active and engaged role. And that leads to my exhortation: Your task, as Cornell graduates, is to recreate that kind of community in your part of the world, wherever that might be. Continue the work you began here, with a heightened resolve, with a greater sensitivity to those whose faith and culture are different from your own, and with an enduring commitment to the democratic values inhering in Cornell University and the United States. They will endure. And they will prevail.

Archie Ammons, whom many of you knew, was one of the great poets of the last century, and a remarkable member of the Cornell faculty. Let me conclude with one of his best short poems, titled "Salute," which seems an especially good way to send you off:

May happiness
pursue you,

catch you
often, and,
should it
lose you,

be waiting
ahead, making

a clearing
for you.

Congratulations and Godspeed.