Dear Dr. Hennecken, distinguished members of the music faculty, honored recitalists, students, alumni, and friends of St. Norbert College:

Thank you for this wonderful honor. To receive the Distinguished Music Alumni Award from an institution that has shaped so much of who I am is deeply humbling. I accept this award with gratitude, and I accept it conscious of the many people whose voices, talents, patience, and encouragement helped form my own. No musician ever becomes a musician alone. Whatever song my life has become is only because it has been shaped by many teachers, mentors, colleagues, fellow musicians, and friends who have taught me not only how to sing or conduct a choir, but how to live.

Preparing for these remarks had me reflecting back on my own years here as a music student at SNC. I remember hours in the practice rooms and in classrooms. I recall wonderful performances and entertaining classes. But, I also remember some very difficult moments that made me question my own abilities. I recall the excitement of performance and also the vulnerability that comes with it – that unique moment before the first note when you wonder if what you have on the inside will come out the way you hope. Indeed, there were many lessons that inspired me here and just as many lessons that humbled and deeply challenged me.

At the time, so much of it felt ordinary. Sometimes tedious. Sometimes exhilarating. Sometimes exhausting. But with the passing of time, I can see now that what was happening here in those ordinary moments was much deeper than the formation to become a music teacher. St. Norbert College was not simply teaching me music, I was being taught how to see and to hear the world.

Indeed, music teaches us to be people who listen before it teaches us to be people who perform. I’ve come to realize that is why music is so desperately needed in our time.

We live in a world that is divided, almost irreconcilably it seems. Ours is an age marked by conflict, by suspicion, and by a kind of relentless, dissonant noise. We are surrounded by endless opinions, arguments, outrage, and conflict. Nations are at war, communities are fractured, and families are strained. There is anger in our public life and anxiety in many of our hearts. Technology promises connection, but loneliness seems to deepen. We have never been able to hear so many viewpoints at our disposal, and yet I wonder if we have forgotten how to listen.

But, music reminds us. Music has a way of entering the heart in a way that arguments cannot. A melody can carry grief when words fail. Harmony can restore what fear has disordered. Music can gather strangers into one voice. A choir has the power, science says, to unify our heart beats. A song can awaken memory and it can summon courage. Music can create hope.

There’s something healing about that.

This healing power of music is not accidental. All of these qualities of music find origin in God. For centuries, humanity has used music to search for God and to speak to God. The prophets cry out in poetry. The psalms praise God through the whole spectrum of emotion. St. Paul writes to the Colossians:

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts [...] Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

The Church has always understood that music does more than adorn worship. Music shapes belief and music teaches the truth. Music forms memory and it lodges itself in the soul.

From the chants of monasteries to the soaring polyphony of cathedrals. From the spirituals sung up from the suffering of slavery, to the folk melodies sung to teach, inspire, and comfort people around the globe. From grand organ improvisations to the orchestrations of oratorios, operas, and passion chorales. Music has given voice to humanity’s deepest cries and highest praise. Music has carried laments, sustained faith, and proclaimed resurrection. Music carries faith across generations. Music has the power to gather us, to steady us, and in some mysterious and graced way, to heal us.

And so, I say to you tonight, especially to the music students here who are discerning your own future: never underestimate the dignity of your vocation as a musician. To be a musician is not only to entertain or to teach others. It is, in many ways, to minister to them. To be agents of hope, peace, and love.

Indeed, as musicians, we are called to bring order out of chaos. We are called to create beauty in a world often disfigured by violence. We are called to make harmony in a culture that rewards discord. We are called to awaken wonder in hearts that have grown numb.

This is certainly not easy work. And it requires more than talent. Every musician here knows the tedious life behind the scenes. The repeated scales and arpeggios until your hands ache. The constant worry about the health and care of your instrument. The hours of rehearsals. The frustrations of failure. The humility of critique. The patience required to begin again. Still, these things are not the obstacles to greatness. They are the path to it.

This too is part of the lesson: the most beautiful music is often born from the sacrifice. A musician who knows suffering can interpret sorrow differently. A musician who has loved deeply can express tenderness differently. A musician who has sat in silence shapes sound differently. And a musician who has prayed can produce beauty that reaches beyond the ear and touches the soul.

So my encouragement for all of you this evening is not only to become better musicians, but to become deeper, more passionate, more faithful human beings.

The world today needs many things: wise leaders, courageous peacemakers, truth-tellers and bridge-builders. But it also needs artists and musicians.

We need those who can remind us that the human person is made for more than efficiency and productivity. We are made for wonder. We are made for beauty. We are made for communion. We are made for transcendence. We are made for God.

Friends, as you continue to make music, let it transform you too. Don’t only expect excellence, expect truth, expect beauty, expect your music to open hearts. When that happens, your music becomes prayer.

Tonight I’m especially grateful to St. Norbert College for helping to shape my own song. And I thank all of you who continue to carry forward this noble vocation. The world needs your gifts. The Church needs your gifts. Human hearts need your gifts.

Let your music become a healing balm for the wounds of the world. May it raise hope from the rubble. May it restore peace in our hearts. And may it always, in the end, lead souls toward the One who is the source of all Truth, all Beauty, and all Goodness. Thank you.