There is something about the air. The curvature of the rock. The impossible blue of the Pacific. It represents the dawn of so many things — notebooks rising to page one, faces reclaiming the plaza, new names, a new microwave oven, a speech, a dance, Malibu population 13,042.
It is a welcome for some and a return for others. It is a place to tie the hammock and a meeting ground for friends. It looks the same as we left it.
But that sameness is an illusion. Since the close of the old year, fathers of your classmates have died. Children in Palestine and Iraq saw the death of peace. Human beings committed suicide. Oceans rose. Governments tanked. Democracy bled in a summer-long binge of violence and illiberalism. Sickness spread. “Genocide” language circled like sprayed hornets above the ivory towers of international politics. A dead teen in Missouri confirmed the rigor mortis of American exceptionalism. A mother in Syria depleted her tears like ammunition as floods blasted Detroit. Last week, a yacht caught fire off the Malibu coastline.
The world is not the same. It is dangerous, bloodied, blistered and tired.
So beware of the pithy welcome parties that treat this place like an escape. The oasis within Pepperdine University is a mirage — this is headquarters. Do not allow geography to fool us into disengaging the world.
Welcome to Pepperdine University, where we are tied to the world through faith, travel, service, media and law. Where we face the ocean but turn our eyes to suffering. Where leaders train to battle injustice. This is not a lukewarm nicety of comfort politics — this is a rallying cry.
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