Why it’s hard to be humble when you’re from Providence College
Rev. Jordan Zajac, O.P. ’04, assistant professor of English and alumni chaplain, presented this homily on October 26, 2025, during Senior Ring Weekend Mass for the Class of 2026.
There’s an alum who took the lower level of his home and turned it into a PC-themed bar. His name is Chuck. He’s a member of the Class of ’71, and he calls his bar The Friary. Everything is customized in black and white and the Friar logo. He has 50 years of PC memorabilia and autographs adorning the walls. And he always has two craft beers on draft. When I had the chance to visit his house earlier this month, I thought I had died and gone to Friar heaven.
Between the bar on one side of the room, and the pool table on the other, there’s this black leather couch. And on that couch is a pillow. And on that pillow it reads: “It’s hard to be humble when you’re from Providence College.”
I got such a kick out of the pillow that Chuck’s wife, Leslie, actually got me one. Isn’t that great?
Now, there might be a little problem here between my new favorite pillow and the Gospel reading for today’s Mass: “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted” (Lk 18:14).
There seems to be clear tension between the message of Christ and the words stitched onto my pillow. But they are actually two ways of saying the same exact thing. That’s what I want to reflect on here today, as we celebrate this special moment, this milestone, of your senior year. There’s something I want you to be aware of. Because it’s something you will experience over time.
When you first get to college, it feels like it’s going to last forever. That’s how deep, and rich, and full the feeling is to be here in Friartown. But, as you’re realizing, your time in college is actually quite short. It’s precious. It’s limited. You are a student at PC for only four years. (Or five, if you do the 4+1 program). But you will be alumni of Providence College for 40 or 50 years, or more. For the rest of your life. For all eternity.
The longer it’s been since your commencement, the less humble about PC you will become. It is a profound thing, what your memories of this place do to you over time. St. Augustine (it always goes back to Civ) has this great insight in the Confessions. He says people think memory is about the past. It’s not. Memory is about the future. It shapes the future, it gives meaning to the future, and to the way you understand and recognize yourself. What’s he mean? Two things:
Insight #1: Over time, the memories that truly last will not be the ones you would have expected.
I went around all of senior year feeling this tremendous pressure to make the most of every single day, to make memories that would last forever. I’ve forgotten them all. Even when looking back at old photos, I’m like, “There I am, but … nothing from that night sticks out to me.” Over time, your memory actually reveals to you what mattered most all along. The strongest, the most vivid memory I have from senior year is a moment that didn’t even stick out to me at the time. It’s a memory of my friends and I walking to McPhail’s for a senior night. It’s dark, it’s cold, campus is full of snow. And we’re joking, we’re laughing. We’re together and we’re happy. That memory fills me with great warmth — more warmth now than then. Because it reveals to me what mattered most to me, who mattered most. Memory shapes the future.
Insight #2: You’ll never forget some of the dumbest things you did here. And that’s actually a good thing.
This past summer, on a Saturday afternoon, while the campus was completely dead, I was walking back from my office to the Priory. As I came down the hill from Ruane toward Harkins, I watched this car pull up and park, and two people get out. They were looking around in awe. As I passed I said hello, and we started talking. They explained to me that they had graduated from PC over 40 years ago, and this was the very first time they had set foot on campus since then. Since commencement. After graduation they settled in California and had just never been back. As we talked, and they told me about their memories of various classes and professors and everything else, the husband started getting emotional. “Father, I did so many stupid things on this campus. So many stupid things. The Lord has been so merciful to me. He’s been so good to me. I can remember, and realize now, every single way He led me, despite myself. Being back here, all I can recognize is the mercy of God.”
Many important moments I had on this campus, memories I thought I’d always treasure, have completely faded. What I can’t forget, however, are some of the choices I made in my weakest moments. And what I can recognize now as the supreme mercy and patience God showed me.
With time, and distance, and years, what the Lord gives you — through your memories — is perspective. The memories help you realize more than anything else that we are all like the tax collector in the Gospel. All he can say is, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” And the Lord is infinitely merciful. Remembering our deep need for mercy, and the great mercy Christ does show (has shown), makes you humble. And made humble, you are made proud. It’s hard to be humble when you’re from Providence College, because with time you recognize His providential hand in everything in your life, especially your stupidest moments. Your weakest moments.
God always takes our weakness and turns it into a sign, a manifestation, of His strength.
Your ring finger itself is a sign of this reality. What do I mean? Okay, here’s an in-class activity. Stretch out your right arm and make a fist. Now, one by one, raise each finger as high as you can. Begin with the thumb. Pointer finger. Middle finger. Ring finger. Pinkie.
Did you notice that?? The ring finger is the hardest finger to lift on its own. At alumni weddings I preach about how the wedding ring is placed on the weakest finger. Why? The ring is placed on the weakest finger to remind the bride and groom that it is in weakness that they must love each other the most.
Marriage is not about showing strength.
It is about supporting each other in weakness.
It is about carrying one another when life gets heavy.
The ring, and the ring finger, are a reminder: Love is strongest when it chooses to stay in weakness.
For all of you seniors here today, if that ring finger is a reminder of weakness, then your class ring is a reminder of the Lord’s strength. The Lord crowns the weakest finger and makes it His own. He gives you this tangible reminder of His mercy and providential care. It’s impossible to fully recognize it now. But you will.
Not so long from now, in years to come, you will be at an alumni event, sitting at the bar with Chuck and me, and you will be proclaiming to us the mercies of God. How His merciful love lasts forever (Ps 136:1). Your memories of PC will teach you that. And that’s why it’s hard to be humble: because our boast is in God (1 Cor 1:31).
Almighty Father, thank You — THANK YOU — for making us Friars.
