MAN FULLY ALIVE

Mr. Jaime Augusto Zóbel de Ayala, our distinguished commencement speaker; Ambassador Joey Cuisia, Chairman of the Board of Trustees; Dr. Stan Padojinog, President of UA&P; Atty. Philip Yeung, incoming President of UA&P; the members of the Board and the Management Committee; esteemed Deans, faculty members, and staff; beloved parents, dear guests, and fellow graduates of the Class of 2025: good afternoon!

On this solemn and momentous occasion, our hearts swell with gratitude—gratitude above all to God, and to our family, and to the UA&P community. I know my fellow graduates wish to thank many of you here today, so allow me to do so on their behalf for accompanying us up to this moment, and even hereafter. I’d also like to take this opportunity to thank some people: my family, Liz, GK, Diego, and Iago; my intellectual guides, Dr. Jojo Mariano and Dr. Paul Dumol; the Philosophy faculty, especially Dr. Dean Mejos, Dr. Pia Garcia, and Ms. Zyra Lentija, who were pivotal in helping me discover my vocation to philosophy and to the academe; friends at Amber Drive University Center, who are very much family; and, of course, my fellow humanities classmates, especially Raphie and Vier.

When I first set foot in UA&P six years ago, I was greeted by promotional material that read: “Are you ready to blaze a trail?” At the time it seemed to me a simple rhetorical question. Every year since, during the college entrance exam season, I’d see the question again. And whenever I came across that question, I’d take the opportunity to examine myself: How have I been trying to blaze a trail? It’s a question we can all ask ourselves now. For my part, I gave myself time to think about it the past few days. And I concluded that blazing a trail, at this juncture of our lives, is a matter of whether we have become more human, whether we have become more of who we are.

As this ceremony nears its conclusion, many memories linger in the air. Some of us have probably already begun to recount, one by one, those seemingly trivial experiences that have been etched in our very being. Other experiences have also made us realize that we are what UA&P has made us to be; and equally so, that UA&P is what we made it to be. In my case, I’ll never forget one of my life’s biggest blunders: after Junior College, I left UA&P to study philosophy elsewhere. But after a while, I came to my senses and returned. In retrospect, it wasn’t so bad; and to tell you the truth, being away from UA&P those few months made me see what I was missing and how much good the university had done for me. That period constitutes an essential part of my story with UA&P, and I’m sure each of you has a unique story to tell as well.

Although the stories we’ve made the last four, five, or six years fill us with gratitude and nostalgia, those feelings are somehow shrouded by fear and worry as we anticipate life beyond UA&P. Following Dante’s imagery, today might mark that point in our life’s journey where we find ourselves in a shadowed forest, without the privilege of knowing what lies beyond. Some already know what to do and where to go, but many are uncomfortable with the uncertainty that looms.

There’s always tension and uneasiness when we’re in a precarious situation, especially when it concerns our professional trajectory. This is because one of the universal human inclinations is to seek certainty. Science calls this “self-preservation”; the humanities calls it “hope.” We want security, we want to be sure that our plans will unfold as we expect them to, we want the assurance that there’s nothing to be anxious about. And for us, my fellow graduates, oftentimes the security we seek, the hope that we cling to, is to have professional success.

In fact, some IMC and MEM alumni say jokingly (or perhaps seriously) that the measure of their success is being featured on Dr. Jerry Kliatchko’s Facebook or LinkedIn and his “alumni spotlight” posts. This is a legitimate gauge of success, and I wonder if humanities grads like me could end up in one of those posts in the future. But the true litmus test of a successful UA&P alumnus—or better yet, what makes someone a true trailblazer—is the life one chooses to live.

This is no cliché. The ancient Greeks understood there was a difference between someone who lived a moral life (agathos) and someone who lived a beautiful life (kalos); and as much as possible, the Greeks tried to live up to the ideal of a beautiful life. Similarly, the ancient Romans distinguished the mere brute who obtained no humanizing quality from the person who strove to be more highly humanized. In all cases, we, too, must choose the latter. Many times, doing good can feel effortless; being good is a bit more challenging, since it demands a habitual affinity with the good; but living well is the maximum expression of moral integrity, the harmony of one’s character, and fidelity to the mission one is called to carry out. And we all know that a life lived well is determined by the plot of each one’s life story, by the unfolding of each one’s biography—this is where we really discover who we are.

We’ve often heard that each person is the protagonist of his own story. But I think the philosopher Julián Marías puts it more precisely; he said that “each one is the novelist of his own life.” We aren’t simply the main character in our biography; we’re the very author, not of our life as such, but of the story of our life. And this demands an immense degree of personal responsibility because life is unfinished; life is an ongoing enterprise, a project to be worked on, a task to be completed. And our task, my fellow graduates, is to create a life of kalos.

This is why we have that saying from the classical author Irenaeus which speaks a profound truth: “God’s greatest glory is man fully alive.” And what more is there to being fully alive than to live a beautiful life, to live with the greatest intensity and authenticity possible? It’s now up to each of us to translate this ideal into a concrete reality through the small things of everyday life, so that all of us may say we are men and women fully alive—because the greatest work of art we can make, the magnum opus of each one, is the beauty of a life well lived. However, what’s important is not so much that we reach this ideal, but that we approach it—that we get better at the art of living.

This brings us full circle to the idea of blazing a trail. The classic UA&P tagline is taken from the famous words of St. Josemaría Escrivá, whose vision inspired the creation of our university. He said: “Don’t let your life be barren. Be useful. Blaze a trail.” We entered UA&P encountering this invitation to do more and to be more. And today, as we are set free from the bosom of UA&P, which we now proudly call our alma mater, that challenge to blaze a trail is now an invitation to be pioneers in our respective fields, to be individuals that make a difference, and above all, to be witnesses to all that is noble by the very example of our life.

Thank you very much, UA&P, and my heartfelt congratulations to all my fellow graduates!

Manila, 15-VIII-25