I have traveled up and down Locust Walk thousands of times over my twenty-five years connected to our University. However, my recent late-summer journeys through our beautiful campus have found me holding feelings that I have not felt here at Penn before. Or rather—it’s not that the feelings are new—it is the presence of these multiple emotions simultaneously that is new.

My old mentor Ralph Ciampa, the longtime director of Pastoral Care in Penn Medicine, used to often remind me that “humans are complex.” And this is true. It allows us to feel multiple things even over the course of the same day. Indeed, we can sometimes feel multiple emotions in the same moment. 

I wonder if you are feeling like I am. There’s a part of me that is so excited to see students and colleagues return to campus. I so very much enjoy this vocation because of the opportunity I am given to pour into the next generation of students at my alma mater, just like mentors and professors and advisers and coaches poured into me. I love affirming their dreams, wrestling through hard questions with them, going to their shows and games, cheering for them at Convocation and Hey Day and Commencement, then seeing them come back to campus as proud alumni. 

And I so very much love my colleagues. Bumping into them near the Love Statue or the Compass, having tea or grabbing lunch, developing programs and courses, being present with them through the challenges of life, officiating their weddings, going to their book readings, crying with and celebrating them at their retirement parties.  

Walking around campus lately has reminded me just how much I missed everyone and I feel so much excitement about the return of our students and my colleagues to campus this fall.  

I also feel nervous. 

Somewhere between uncomfortable and anxious. I don’t think I need to articulate all of the reasons and possible scenarios. You already know them. 

Some days are better than others and I find myself riding my bike really fast to get to campus and be with folks. Other days I’m really hesitant, and after commuting in, I sneak upstairs to my office, close the door and pull the blinds down.  

I’m both excited and nervous. And happy. And sad.  

I wonder if this is how members of the Penn community felt at the beginning of the school year after the World Wars. A joy at things “returning to normal.” But also a just under-the-surface grief and sadness at all that was lost…and who was lost.  

It doesn’t take much to make me cry nowadays. Both happy and sad tears. When we had Commencement in Franklin Field this past May, even though it was not our full celebration, seeing our seniors in their robes and mortarboards and then to see them pull their Hey Day hats and canes out…tears fell out of my eyes, down my cheeks, and onto my mask. I felt joy because of their joy. But also sadness because they didn’t get to have a normal Hey Day. Gratitude that they at least got this. Sadness at the weight and strain making these major decisions was and is on administrators.   

And now, walking through campus seeing more and more students come back to campus. I tear up and whisper under my breath, “We missed you so much.” I cry tears of joy and gratitude that they are back. And then two steps later, I feel sad again thinking that we all have to wear masks around our buildings. And I’m glad we do. It’s the right thing. But I wish we could smile at each other and shake hands without fearing that we are passing along or catching a virus.  

It’s a lot. 

This moment is a lot. I think what I’m trying to get at is that maybe we should try to show each other a little more grace this year. 

These remain very hard times. President Gutmann described this as a generational event.

And in addition to the pandemic, we’re still navigating some intense political divisions, there are still painful reminders of the presence of bigotry, there are catastrophes around the world, and our University is preparing to go through some major transitions and changes of our own, bringing their own set of mixed emotions. And who can even speak of the personal challenges we each are carrying with our families, scheduling, other health or financial concerns, and more? 

I keep thinking on that old quote; “Be Kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Yes, we are. 

Let’s try to be gentle and patient with one another. And gentle and patient with ourselves. We’re all doing the best we can. May the spaces we share be spaces of grace. 

There will be days that some of us won’t be contributing much that is helpful in meetings or won’t be very productive at work. We might need an extra day to get a report in. Let’s show each other grace.   

And there might be times where a friend may not be up to going out and might need some downtime. Or might be a little more needy. Or might not be as strong as they were two years ago. Or may have changed somehow since you last saw them. Let’s extend grace to each other and try to remember that we’re navigating life through a major crisis. Crises, actually. 

You are allowed to feel everything right now. You’re allowed to need help. In fact, I’d encourage you to reach out to all the support spaces on campus, including CAPS and the wide range of other professional and peer resources here at Penn. You don’t have to have it all together right now. You can be excited for this new beginning. And also terrified at the same time. You are complex. Let others be complex, too. And let’s try to show them grace in their complexity.  

One of the beautiful ironies of the last year was that while we were distant from one another, we also pulled together as a world to make it through.  

I’m praying that we can help each other make it through this new season for our University too. And not just survive it, but to enjoy it, finding moments of light amidst the darkness. To be cautious, but to have fun too. To be careful and brave. To be human. To be Penn. 

—Charles Howard, University Chaplain, Vice President For Social Equity and Community