Jacqueline De Gagné (SMC 85) is a Toronto-based consultant with over 30 years of corporate legal experience across Canada, Germany, and China. After graduating from the University of Toronto with a BSc in Zoology, she continued her studies and went on to qualify as a lawyer in Ontario, as well as a patent agent, trademark agent, and Chartered Director. Throughout her career, Jacqueline has held senior leadership roles, including Chief Legal Officer, specializing in intellectual property, litigation, compliance, and governance.

In recognition of International Women’s Day on March 8, Jacqueline De Gagné (SMC 85) reflects on how joining the Alumnae Initiative for Women, a group dedicated to bringing together and supporting St. Mike’s alumnae, brought meaning to her volunteerism.

Whether it’s staffing a plant sale, sponsoring a youth car wash, or biking or golfing for a fundraiser, I’ve always been happy to support the people who make time in their busy lives to make the world a better place. On reflection, these were “one-off” volunteering events. They fit into defined windows of time, required no long-term commitment, and were often things I did simply because I felt I “should” or because they were relevant to my work.

While these causes were important, they contrasted sharply with my professional, and personally satisfying, commitments to mentoring and reconciliation. I realized that, in my private life, I was doing things because they were important to others. They didn’t necessarily matter to me. I hadn’t been intentional in choosing where to contribute my time. One day, I found myself browsing the St. Mike’s website and wondering how to reconnect with old friends and the community. I considered applying for an Alumni board seat. Instead, I found the Friends of the Kelly Library.

The invitation was simple: any volunteer with a little time could help collect books from donors, sort them for the annual sale, or participate during the sale itself. It wasn’t just a volunteer slot; it was a homecoming. That spoke to me. I’ve chipped in ever since.

Three years ago, while I was at St. Mike’s for a convocation, I reconnected with the Advancement Office. That led me to the Alumnae Initiative for Women (AI4W), an affinity group that seeks a sustainable legacy of leadership and community for all St. Mike’s women – students, faculty, and staff alike. The AI4W aims to build on women’s original attachment to the college by cultivating a renewed relationships among alumnae. Again, that spoke to me.

Through my participation in the AI4W, I’ve gained a new appreciation for what we had at St. Mike’s in my undergrad years. We benefited greatly from the foundations and presence of the Loretto Sisters and the Sisters of St. Joseph. I believe that we should make a strong, fresh effort to sustain and grow their work to ensure that St. Mike’s delivers that same support for future generations of women. With the AI4W, I’ve found an important initiative to which I have chosen to commit. I’m contributing to the future of women at St. Mike’s, and I’ve reconnected with old friends and made new ones.

I’m sharing my story of volunteering and return to St. Mike’s to invite you to be intentional and consider how you volunteer your time. If you are ready to reconnect with St. Mike’s, Alumni Reunion Weekend 2026 is June 19–20. The AI4W Conversation, Series, one of several events offered on the Day of Learning, will focus specifically on volunteerism. I hope to see you there, and I invite you to say hello.

Read other InsightOut posts.

Larry Cimino is the President of ProConsult, LLC, a strategic global management and logistics consultancy focused primarily on mental health and mental illness and is the Global Program Director for the Dialogue on Diabetes and Depression in Geneva, Switzerland. He graduated from St. Michael’s College in 1973 with a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature and has remained active in the St. Michael’s alumni community. He sits on the Alumni Advisory Board of Directors and chairs the Alumni Reunion Committee. In 2023, he was honoured with the inaugural Spirit of Saint Mike’s Award. Larry is a lifetime member of the World Federation for Mental Health and served on its board of directors for eight years. He lives in the Indianapolis area with his wife Joan; together they have four sons and six grandchildren.

There’s a particular quality of light that falls across a college quad in spring—the way it illuminates pathways you once walked between classes, catches the edges of buildings where you studied late into the night, filters through trees that have grown taller since you last stood beneath them. That light is waiting for you this spring at St. Michael’s College, and it’s calling you home.

In an era defined by digital connection and physical isolation, when we scroll through updates about old friends rather than sitting across from them, when isolation and loneliness have become what some health experts call an epidemic, the annual spring reunion offers something increasingly rare and precious: the chance to be together, in person, in the place where many of us first discovered who we were becoming.

The pandemic taught us many things, but perhaps most poignantly it revealed what we lose when we’re apart. Video calls can’t replicate the warmth of an embrace, the spontaneous laughter that erupts over a shared drink or snack in the COOP, or the way a familiar voice sounds when it’s not compressed through a screen. This Spring Reunion is an antidote to that isolation—a deliberate act of choosing presence over convenience, community over solitude.

When you return to St. Mike’s this spring, you’ll rediscover what drew you to this community in the first place. You’ll reconnect with classmates who once filled your days with conversation and debate, laughter and late-night philosophical wandering. Some friendships may have faded over the years, not from lack of care but simply from the relentless momentum of adult life. The reunion offers a rare permission to pause that momentum, to pick up threads of connection that have been waiting patiently for your return.

But this gathering isn’t merely about looking backward. Among the familiar faces, you’ll encounter younger alumni—recent graduates navigating the same uncertain transitions you once faced. Here is your opportunity to offer what you once needed: encouragement, perspective, perhaps even professional opportunities that could change the trajectory of a career. The wisdom you’ve accumulated through years of experience becomes a gift when shared. These intergenerational connections don’t just benefit the younger alumni; they remind us of our own journeys, of how far we’ve traveled, and of the community that helped launch us into the world.

Walking through campus, you’ll experience a unique temporal duality. The chapel, the library, the corners where you first encountered ideas that changed you—these endure. Yet St. Michael’s has evolved too, responding to new generations and new challenges. You’ll discover renovated spaces, new facilities, dramatic sculptures, programs that didn’t exist during your college years. Learning about the major capital projects planned for the future connects you to the university’s ongoing story, a narrative you helped write and one that continues beyond your chapter.

This evolution reflects a deeper truth: St. Michael’s isn’t a museum of your past, but a living institution relevant to your present and future. The reunion introduces you to opportunities for lifelong learning, ways to keep the university’s intellectual energy flowing through your life. Perhaps it’s attending lectures by distinguished faculty, engaging with current research, or discovering continuing education programs. The institution that once formed you continues to offer resources for your growth and transformation.

The scheduled tours will reveal both the familiar and the transformed. The lectures will challenge and stimulate. But the most valuable moments may be the unscheduled ones—the spontaneous conversations over coffee, the unexpected reunions in hallways, the stories exchanged during dinner. These organic interactions, impossible to replicate from afar, are where community truly comes alive.

We are, at our core, social beings driven by deep-seated needs: to pursue good together rather than alone, to cooperate toward shared purposes, to care for one another, and ultimately to belong. These aren’t abstract philosophical ideals but fundamental human hungers. The reunion satisfies these hungers in ways that our increasingly fragmented, digitized world often cannot.

St. Michael’s shaped us during those formative years when we were becoming ourselves. It provided not just education but community, not just knowledge but belonging. That gift doesn’t expire. The relationships forged, the values explored, the sense of being part of something larger than ourselves—these remain available to us, but only if we choose to return.

This spring, choose presence. Choose community. Choose to walk those familiar pathways, to embrace old friends and welcome new ones, to remember who you were and celebrate who you’ve become. Mark your calendar. Plan your return.

St. Michael’s is waiting, and so is the light.

St. Michael’s College welcomes its alumni back for Alumni Reunion, which will take place from June 19 – 20.

Read other InsightOut posts.

With Lent just around the corner – Ash Wedneday falls on Feb. 18 this year — the St. Mike’s Campus Ministry team had the pleasure of taking some time to discuss together our insights, hopes, and ponderings on Lent. The exercise has helped to nourish our souls, to bond us together as a team, and now, to allow us to share our thoughts with you, the wider SMC community.

Here are some thoughts, pulled from our conversation:

Lent is about love & longing

“Lent is about remembering to give up for the sacrifice that has been so willingly and lovingly made for us, and making time to pause intentionally, look back, and appreciate [Jesus], our first love.” (Chloe Kim, Social and Community Outreach Coordinator)

“Lent is not an empty time of waiting. In Lent, the content of the waiting is one of desire and longing. And to me that is the Christian life. This quality of longing which is fulfilled but not yet.” (Christina Labriola, Music and Ministry Coordinator)

Lent is about responding to God

“For me, Lent draws me into deeper reflection towards self-discipline. Recognizing where my weaknesses are and recognizing that God’s always here pulling at me and that I need to respond to that call… It’s a reminder that, yes, we’re going to keep messing up, we’re fallible, we’re human, but God’s always here and it’s always that conversation. Him pulling me and me responding. And I have to do that responding.” (Faith, Interfaith Coordinator)

Lent is about intentional and lasting growth

“Lent is about listening. Listening to what God is pulling you towards and what the Holy Spirit may be invoking in you in this period of growth.” (Carina MacKinnon, Social and Community Outreach Coordinator)

“For as long as I can remember, I always choose something, usually social media, and I decide I’m going to give it up for Lent. By the time Lent is over I slowly get back into it until it becomes a problem again for next Lent. It seems like a disservice to the Lenten season to just keep falling back into the same thing, so what I hope to get out of Lent this year is to actually detach from it and be able to, not solve the problem, but to have such a handle on it that I won’t have to give it up again next year. So that it’s not as much of a cycle but it’s an actual improvement in my life.” (Paige Mullin, Christian Discipleship Coordinator)

Lent is about discovering the beauty of simplicity 

“I think that it’s a time to cultivate a certain kind of simplicity and refocus on the essentials… Sometimes we think of Lent as a morose time, but no, it has a beauty to it in its simplicity and sense of more intense focus and of renewed commitment to discipleship.”  (Christina)

“I recall last year in Lent before my baptism, because of zeal and what I thought in my mind of Lent, I wanted to take on so much… But we are not able to sustain that. I was trying to do so much instead of going back to simplicity and focusing on the essentials.” (Carina)

“We don’t sing Alleluia during Lent. It’s not that it’s a sad time or a time that doesn’t have beauty, but we are choosing to put aside the joy of that “Alleluia” for a time so that we can resurrect it at Easter all the more gloriously and with all of the joy renewed.” (Christina)

Lent is about slowing down

“I think I’m realizing that I need to try to think of ways that slowing down and rest can also be a form of fasting or prayer. How can that be a part of Lenten observance? Rather than thinking “I’m giving up social media because it’s bad”, I’m trying to think of the things that take up so much time in my day, that I don’t need to give that much energy to, that shouldn’t have that much power over me.” (Bridget Bowles, Christian Discipleship Coordinator)

“I’m also thinking about slowing down so that I can have a more reflective mindset and look at what my goals are, especially now that I am graduating next year. I’m trying to think about what my future will look like, so I think that having a more reflective mindset this season is something that’s important.” (Jack Sturman, Interfaith Coordinator)

“To see again the stars”

“I once heard a beautiful image about Lent that I’ve always remembered, which is that it is a chosen darkening of your surroundings, and of all the sort of garish lights that surround you, so that the stars can shine out more brightly. It’s the darkness that allows the true light to shine. With too many distractions we can’t really see what is essential.” (Christina)

“In the Divine Comedy, when Dante gets out of hell, the first thing he comments on are the stars and in that moment he doesn’t even have to say that they are beautiful. It’s just so refreshing after feeling so claustrophobic for so long… all of the sudden we just have this open sky and the darkness has made the stars even brighter.” (Bridget)

Living Lent on Campus this year

Our Campus Ministry Team warmly invites you to lean into the season of Lent with us this year, by praying with us at our Saturday evening Masses (6:30pm in St. Basil’s Catholic Parish), and participating in almsgiving through our Thursday Snack Outreach program. Campus Ministry is also starting up a Lenten Prayer and Fellowship Group, for students who want to journey together into this period of fasting and simplicity, to focus on what is truly important and “to see again the stars.”

Read other InsightOut posts.

Mary E. Hess is Professor of Educational Leadership at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, where she has taught since 2000. During the academic 2016-2017 year she held the Patrick and Barbara Keenan Visiting Chair in Religious Education at St. Michael’s Faculty of Theology. This column ran originally on Mary’s blog.

Micah 6:8: What does God require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

I spent yesterday (Thursday, January 22) with several hundred clergy and faith leaders who came from all over the US to witness to what is happening here as ICE overruns our state. This was a group of people from many different faith communities: Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Sikh, Muslim, and more. These people paid for flights into the metro, they paid for their own lodging and food, and they did it all on a week’s notice.

It was just a week ago that MARCH (multi-faith, anti-racist, change and healing convening) put out a call to clergy and faith leaders.

And people came.

I am deeply grateful to Westminster Presbyterian Church, who provided a warm, welcoming, and gracious hospitality to everyone.

So deep gratitude, first and foremost.

And then grief. Grief that people needed to disrupt their lives in this way to come here. The organizers had many rich and powerful things for us to do together, including singing and workshops on skills. They called on poets and native leaders. They invited beauty and love into the space. They also offered a panel of people from across the area who have had direct experience with ICE.

Grief welled up for me again during that that panel. I know these stories, I’ve heard many of them first hand already, and I have friends who have had direct experiences of the brutality and viciousness of ICE agents.

It is so, so hard to stay present to what is happening here. I want to run and hide, I want to pull the covers over my head and pretend it isn’t happening. I may be able to do that, briefly, because of the color of my skin, but it would mean isolating myself fully.

I cannot do that. I will not do that. I need to stay present to this grief, to this fear, to the anxieties and horror that are present here.

What yesterday reminded me of, is that we are not alone. People from LA, people from Chicago, were here talking about what they had learned when ICE came to them. And to a person they were clear about how much worse what is happening here, is.

ICE is testing strategies to subdue whole communities, and these folk from across the country shared how important it is that people here are resisting, are standing in love with their neighbors, are creating “hyper local” groups (that is, just one block at a time) to care for each other.

So now the generosity. There are mutual aid groups popping up all over this state, and there is so very much creativity!

There was a powerful livecast of a multi-faith prayer service from Temple Israel this morning (Friday, January 23).

What enormous generosity this Jewish congregation showed in inviting diverse faith groups into their space! The Muslim call to prayer was haunting and aching, and struck a chord deep within me.

So much was said that moved me:

“We do not gather in fear, but we gather in hope and peace. We are filling the air waves with trust, and hope, and love.”

“Each and every one of our traditions believes in the dignity of every human being.”

“Our diversity is our strength here.”

“We are not going to let our differences divide us, we are going to deepen our harmony. We are going to spur ourselves to curiosity, and compassion, and hope for the future.”

Tears came to me as I listened to our senators — Amy and Tina — and so many other elected officials, read a prayer together. I can’t remember a similar kind of moment.

Rabbi Marcia Zimmerman lit a candle of remembrance for Renee Good, for all those detained, and for everyone who has sacrificed their lives, and then everyone sang “We shall overcome.”

I love that the service included a Buddhist teacher who shared a loving kindness meditation. This kind of embodied space and breath was also something that was offered at various moments yesterday at Westminster, and I think helping each of us to attend to our breath is so important in the midst of all of the grief, anxiety, and fear that is flooding our communities.

Bishop Mary Ann Budde (who needs no introduction) offered to “connect the dots” between what is happening here and throughout the country, and to take that knowledge with her beyond Minnesota.

I don’t know that I captured her direct quote, but here it is as close as I could get it:

“We can show the country what it looks like as we use every tool available to us as citizens, but also as we witness to the vast reserve of community action and determination to love our neighbors and attend to the fabric of community and care that sustains us all.”

My tears flowed as we sang Holly Near’s song “We are a gentle angry people.” It’s been years since I’ve sung that with a group, and even though I was at home and merely watching a livecast, I was singing it with tears flowing down my face.

Several leaders of different faiths lit candles accompanied by brief words from their faith, and then everyone sang “This little light of mine.”

The service concluded with a reminder that “the evil is when we do not know our neighbors” and with a call to go forth in faith, in strength, and in love.

I needed this service from Temple Israel today. I needed all of the gathering yesterday at Westminster.

I walk forward in gratitude, in grief, and in profound awareness of how reaching out in generosity is healing.

Read other InsightOut posts.

Joseph Sinasac is Project Coordinator for the Longing for Home conference. He has been engaged in Catholic media for more than 30 years.

Suddenly he was gone. Henri Nouwen, one of the most widely admired spiritual writers of his time, died unexpectedly of a heart attack 30 years ago. His passing sent shockwaves around the world among Christians and spiritual seekers of all stripes who had turned to the Dutch Catholic priest’s writing for spiritual solace.

Now, three decades later, it could be argued that what Henri Nouwen shared with the world — deep personal reflections drawn from a life of prayer, discernment and active involvement with everything from peacemaking to the civil rights movement — are needed more than ever. At a time when loneliness is at epidemic levels, global peace is increasingly tenuous, and human solidarity appears at a low ebb, Nouwen’s wisdom continues to offer a way to build a God-and-human-centered approach to life.

Nouwen’s 39 books were translated into more than 30 languages and sold more than seven million copies. Today, his legacy lives on not only in his books but in a wide network of admirers, both academic and non-academic, who continue to interpret it for a new generation.

Some 300 of those seeking to integrate Nouwen’s insights are expected to gather May 14-16 at the University of St. Michael’s College in Toronto to spend three days in robust reflection, discussion, and discernment. The international conference, titled Longing for Home: The Prophetic Witness of Henri Nouwen in a Wounded World, is being organized by the Henri Society in partnership with St. Michael’s, where the Nouwen Archives are housed.

According to Michael W. Higgins, Basilian Distinguished Fellow of Contemporary Catholic Thought at St. Michael’s and author of two books on Nouwen, the priest’s relevance for today is found in his personal transparency and insatiable curiosity about the human condition.

“His spirituality is grounded in engagement with, and not retreat from, the pressing challenges that compromise our humanity,” says Higgins, who will be delivering a keynote address at the conference on Nouwen as an antidote to global despair.

Though thoroughly grounded in his vocation as a Catholic priest, Nouwen’s writing, drawing from his insights as both a psychologist as well as his pastoral calling, has found a large following among other Christian denominations.

John Vissers, Professor of Systematic Theology at the Presbyterian Knox College, part of the Toronto School of Theology, University of Toronto, will be presenting a workshop at the conference on “Reading Henri Nouwen as a prophetic friend in a wounded world.”

“Nouwen puts his finger on the pulse of our broken humanity with words that help us better understand ourselves, our world, and our hope in God,” says Vissers. “It’s an enduring legacy of witness rooted in his own life and faith, which he makes accessible to all who read him.”

Everyone has their favourite Nouwen book, ranging from the most famous such as The Return of the Prodigal Son and The Wounded Healer to lesser-known works that offer special insight.

“An example of this for me is one of Henri’s earlier, sometimes less celebrated books, Reaching Out,” Vissers adds. “It’s all there, and it still speaks.”

Conference attendees will participate in four major plenary sessions and more than 20 workshops, as well as opportunities for shared prayer, worship, and spiritual practice.

The conference kicks off with a dramatic multi-media presentation created by Nouwen biographer Gabrielle Earnshaw. Other key speakers include Carlos A. Thompson, professor of Christian Ministry and Disability Theology at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan; Terry LeBlanc, an Indigenous elder and educator in theology and community development with more than 48 years’ experience; and Michael Blair, General Secretary of the United Church of Canada, who will wrap up the conference with a clear call to action.

St. Michael’s College is no stranger to Nouwen or his work. Observes James Roussain, Chief Librarian of the college’s Kelly Library.

“Henri Nouwen’s enduring relationship with the University of St. Michael’s College is grounded in the stewardship of his intellectual and spiritual legacy through the Henri J.M. Nouwen Archives & Research Collection, housed at the John M. Kelly Library. Formalized in 2000 with the donation of his personal and professional papers by his literary executrix, Sr. Sue Mosteller, C.S.J., the Archives reflect a deep trust placed in St. Michael’s to preserve, study, and share Nouwen’s work with scholars and readers around the world,” he says.

To mark the occasion, the Kelly Library is putting together an exhibit of Nouwen artifacts and photos to share with conference participants.

Anyone engaged in pastoral ministry, theological studies, or seeking to deepen their own spiritual journey will find nourishment for the mind, heart and soul at Longing for Home. For more information, go online to https://www.conference.henrinouwen.org/.

Read other InsightOut posts.

Joseph Sinasac is Project Coordinator for the Longing for Home conference. He has been engaged in Catholic media for more than 30 years.

Suddenly he was gone. Henri Nouwen, one of the most widely admired spiritual writers of his time, died unexpectedly of a heart attack 30 years ago. His passing sent shockwaves around the world among Christians and spiritual seekers of all stripes who had turned to the Dutch Catholic priest’s writing for spiritual solace.

Now, three decades later, it could be argued that what Henri Nouwen shared with the world — deep personal reflections drawn from a life of prayer, discernment and active involvement with everything from peacemaking to the civil rights movement — are needed more than ever. At a time when loneliness is at epidemic levels, global peace is increasingly tenuous, and human solidarity appears at a low ebb, Nouwen’s wisdom continues to offer a way to build a God-and-human-centered approach to life.

Nouwen’s 39 books were translated into more than 30 languages and sold more than seven million copies. Today, his legacy lives on not only in his books but in a wide network of admirers, both academic and non-academic, who continue to interpret it for a new generation.

Some 300 of those seeking to integrate Nouwen’s insights are expected to gather May 14-16 at the University of St. Michael’s College in Toronto to spend three days in robust reflection, discussion, and discernment. The international conference, titled Longing for Home: The Prophetic Witness of Henri Nouwen in a Wounded World, is being organized by the Henri Society in partnership with St. Michael’s, where the Nouwen Archives are housed.

According to Michael W. Higgins, Basilian Distinguished Fellow of Contemporary Catholic Thought at St. Michael’s and author of two books on Nouwen, the priest’s relevance for today is found in his personal transparency and insatiable curiosity about the human condition.

“His spirituality is grounded in engagement with, and not retreat from, the pressing challenges that compromise our humanity,” says Higgins, who will be delivering a keynote address at the conference on Nouwen as an antidote to global despair.

Though thoroughly grounded in his vocation as a Catholic priest, Nouwen’s writing, drawing from his insights as both a psychologist as well as his pastoral calling, has found a large following among other Christian denominations.

John Vissers, Professor of Systematic Theology at the Presbyterian Knox College, part of the Toronto School of Theology, University of Toronto, will be presenting a workshop at the conference on “Reading Henri Nouwen as a prophetic friend in a wounded world.”

“Nouwen puts his finger on the pulse of our broken humanity with words that help us better understand ourselves, our world, and our hope in God,” says Vissers. “It’s an enduring legacy of witness rooted in his own life and faith, which he makes accessible to all who read him.”

Everyone has their favourite Nouwen book, ranging from the most famous such as The Return of the Prodigal Son and The Wounded Healer to lesser-known works that offer special insight.

“An example of this for me is one of Henri’s earlier, sometimes less celebrated books, Reaching Out,” Vissers adds. “It’s all there, and it still speaks.”

Conference attendees will participate in four major plenary sessions and more than 20 workshops, as well as opportunities for shared prayer, worship, and spiritual practice.

The conference kicks off with a dramatic multi-media presentation created by Nouwen biographer Gabrielle Earnshaw. Other key speakers include Carlos A. Thompson, professor of Christian Ministry and Disability Theology at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan; Terry LeBlanc, an Indigenous elder and educator in theology and community development with more than 48 years’ experience; and Michael Blair, General Secretary of the United Church of Canada, who will wrap up the conference with a clear call to action.

St. Michael’s College is no stranger to Nouwen or his work. Observes James Roussain, Chief Librarian of the college’s Kelly Library.

“Henri Nouwen’s enduring relationship with the University of St. Michael’s College is grounded in the stewardship of his intellectual and spiritual legacy through the Henri J.M. Nouwen Archives & Research Collection, housed at the John M. Kelly Library. Formalized in 2000 with the donation of his personal and professional papers by his literary executrix, Sr. Sue Mosteller, C.S.J., the Archives reflect a deep trust placed in St. Michael’s to preserve, study, and share Nouwen’s work with scholars and readers around the world,” he says.

To mark the occasion, the Kelly Library is putting together an exhibit of Nouwen artifacts and photos to share with conference participants.

Anyone engaged in pastoral ministry, theological studies, or seeking to deepen their own spiritual journey will find nourishment for the mind, heart and soul at Longing for Home. For more information, go online to https://www.conference.henrinouwen.org/.

Read other InsightOut posts.

Wendell Nii Laryea Adjetey (Nii Laryea Osabu I, Atrékor Wé Nòyaa Mantsè) is William Dawson Associate Professor of U.S. and African Diaspora history at McGill University. His book, Cross-Border Cosmopolitans: The Making of a Pan-African North America (UNC Press, 2023), is the first and only work of scholarship to receive concomitant commendations in United States, African American, African and African Diaspora, and Canadian history, including The Governor General’s History Award for Scholarly Research.

On 27 October 2025, I enjoyed the immense honour of delivering the Convocation address to graduands of St. Michael’s, Innis, New, Trinity, and University colleges. Meeting, conversing, and rejoicing with students and their loved ones, as well as staff and faculty, at the institution where I matured intellectually and which has had a profound impact on my trajectory is hard to encapsulate fully. For starters, it is difficult for anyone to stand out at a place like the University of Toronto, where academic excellence (and competitiveness) abounds, so, naturally, I certainly gave no indication to anyone, including myself as an undergraduate, that I would one day serve as a source of inspiration to new graduates.

Although I love visiting campus, I matriculated at the U of T and St. Mike’s with the usual anxieties of a first-year undergraduate. Compounding my situation, however, was that I came from a low-income, immigrant household. Poverty and other circumstances in neo-colonial West Africa capped my parents’ education at junior high. University life, therefore, not only mystified, but also intimidated me. It felt like an ecosystem for which I needed more familiarity before beginning my studies. I recall peers in seminars who looked acclimated and sounded polished, having attended prep schools, such as Upper Canada College, the Abelard, U of T Schools, and other bastions of learning. And as the only young Black man in almost all my lectures and seminars, my sense of alienation and displacement grew.

My discomfort notwithstanding, neither capitulation nor hopelessness entered my thought process. These sentiments, in fact, fuelled my ambition to succeed and resolve to overcome my anxieties. I remember reasoning, for example, how I could permit my insecurities (some of which stemmed from real structural inequities) to dictate my future, considering that my parents would have done everything in their power to have had the luxury of a world-class university education. That is when I made a concerted effort to attend office hours regularly to know all my professors and teaching assistants, a decision that paid dividends immediately. The more acquainted I became with my instructors, the more comfortable I felt as an undergraduate, attending events and completing assignments on campus as a commuter student who travelled at least one hour to the St. George campus sometimes from Mississauga and other times from North York. Kelly Library, Brennan Hall, and Robarts became sanctuaries. That St. Mike’s housed the Multicultural History Society of Ontario also strengthened my affinity for the College.

With this new sense of belonging and purpose, I moulded my courses and majors for a career in international diplomacy and security. Having developed a penchant for research and analysis under the tutelage of generous professors, I wrote three senior theses, two of which examined child soldiers in West Africa and global nuclear non-proliferation, respectively. My career aspiration changed, however, as I evaluated the consequences on my community of what the Toronto media infamously called “the Year of the Gun” in December 2005. This watershed event culminated in a record number of gun-related homicides, most of whom were Black boys and young men from inner-city neighbourhoods. That sophomore year remains a standout for me: I enrolled in my first Black history class, a yearlong lecture course (HIS 294) on the Caribbean Basin, which unearthed and illuminated the Indigenous past before European contact, transatlantic slavery, and the enduring African imprint on the region and Hemisphere. Incidentally, my first and only undergraduate Black professor, Dr. Sheldon Taylor, taught that class. He became a beloved friend and mentor.

After my sophomore year, which overlapped the Year of the Gun, I went from thinking and dreaming internationally to planning and acting locally, founding an after-school program to mentor the youth in my housing complex and to steer them away from gang culture. It helped, too, that I belonged to a College that inculcated a spirit of service. Combining my interest in community development and social change with my burgeoning passion for African Diaspora and United States history placed me on my current career path. I had the fortune of receiving several scholarships and honours, including St. Mike’s Father Robert Madden Leadership Award at the June 2008 commencement.

Despite my somewhat precarious start, I remain thrilled about the rigour of my undergraduate education. Unbeknownst to me then, St. Mike’s and U of T prepared me to compete not only with Canada’s best and brightest, but also the world’s. After earning my M.A. in Political Science and Ethnic, Immigration, and Pluralism Studies in 2009, also at the U of T, I worked full-time in youth gang prevention and intervention in north Toronto, advocating in behalf of friends, family, peers, and some of the city’s most forgotten and disadvantaged teenagers. These seminal years in the trenches taught me that I must buttress my education with intensive doctoral training on the genesis and struggles of African peoples in North America—if I desired lasting impact. And thus began my seven-year doctoral, pre-doctoral, and post-doctoral odyssey in New England that took me across North America, Africa, and Europe, conducting scholarly research, and building institutions to champion the most marginalized.

In my travels—and travails—I returned to campus intermittently, always visiting St. Mike’s, reflecting often on how much I have grown, and appreciating my struggles as a low-income, first-generation high school graduate. And, now as a father, I relish any opportunity to bring my son to the campus where instructors inspired me, where I played intramural basketball with fellow hoopers from St. Mike’s, and where I began flirting with the thought of pursuing an academic career—a possibility that I had never considered. How one starts a journey, indeed, is no indication of where they will go and when or how they will finish. The journey is how we find our stride.

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Alexander Gomez is a fourth-year Life Science student at the University of Toronto, double-majoring in Neuroscience and Criminology, aiming for a future in medicine. He was born in Mexico but raised in Calgary, Alberta, which he claims causes people to yee-haw whenever they see him. In his spare time, he enjoys acting and directing plays here at U of T, and his biggest roles include playing an 80-year-old illegal Albanian immigrant and a little kid in Cuba.

Bomont was a quiet town. Ever since the crash, things had gone even quieter. We lived by a very simple rule: there was to be absolutely no dancing of any kind within the city limits of this town. Not at school. Not at parties. Not even “accidentally” in your kitchen if the curtains were open and someone might see. That all changed, of course, when he showed up. A non-stop talking, rowdy, Shakira-hips-having individual by the name of Ren McCormack, who just cannot stand still! The kind of kid who looks like he’s got music in his bones. The kind of kid who hears “no” and immediately wants to know why — and who decided he wouldn’t accept “because I said so” as an answer.

At first, we all watched him as if he were a walking problem. A Chicago boy in Bomont? That was already suspicious. But when he started poking at the dance law, it felt like he was poking at the town’s biggest bruise. And of course, that put him straight in the path of Reverend Shaw Moore, Bomont’s moral compass and our most powerful gatekeeper. Before we knew it, Bomont wasn’t just quiet anymore. It was tense.

And that’s when something surprising happened: instead of everyone backing away, the youth started leaning in. A movement rose. Not organized at first — more like a spark jumping from person to person. One conversation at school. A look exchanged in church. A “Did you hear what Ren said?” whispered like it was a scandal and a secret wish all at once. Eventually, we gave ourselves a name: the SMC Troubadours.

Yes, it sounds dramatic. But honestly? We needed something dramatic. Because living here sometimes feels like you’re trapped inside someone else’s idea of what you’re allowed to be. The goal? Change this city’s law and bring back dancing and creativity within the confines of Bomont! But what it means is bigger than that.

Being a Troubadour is about community — real community, not the kind where everyone pretends they’re fine because they don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. It’s about giving a voice to people who usually get silenced. People who have something to say but lack the power, platform, or permission. And that’s what Footloose is about, at its heart. It’s not just glitter and high kicks. It’s a story about what happens when grief turns into rules, and rules turn into cages.

That’s why I’m involved. Because I’m a Bomont citizen and I love this town. The first time we rehearsed together, it wasn’t perfect. People messed up counts, forgot lyrics, tripped over their own feet. But for the first time in a long time, it felt like Bomont was breathing again. There’s something powerful about dance and song. Not because it’s “rebellious,” but because it reminds people they still have bodies. They still have hearts. They still have rhythm. It brings you back into yourself. And when a whole group of people feels that at the same time? It’s hard to control them with fear.

So here’s what we’re doing. On February 12-14, 2026 at Hart House Theatre we are gathering every evening, and on Saturday afternoon, to fight back! If you’ve ever wanted to dance but swallowed the urge… if you’ve ever wanted to say something but stayed quiet… if you’ve ever felt like the rules in this town were written for someone else’s comfort and not your own future — come join us.

Maybe you’ll come for the music. Maybe you’ll come because you’re curious. Maybe you’ll come because you’re tired of the heaviness. Either way, you won’t be alone. Because once you’ve seen a town wake back up, it’s hard to go back to sleep.

Perhaps together… we can bring about change. Join us.

Here is the link to buy tickets! https://harthouse.universitytickets.com/w/event.aspx?id=1705

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Catherine Mulroney (SMC 8T2, USMC 1T0) is the Interim Director of Communications at the University of St. Michael’s College. She would give anything for one last childhood Christmas.

There was always room for another guest at my parents’ Christmas table.

Our family dining room table, a treasure from my mother’s side, came with three leaves to extend its length as needed. As a small child, I knew Christmas was close when my parents would position themselves at either end of the table and pull, just like opening a Christmas cracker, making space for the leaves to be added as the table creaked and groaned.

Then my mother would survey the layout and other pieces of furniture would be recruited: a second table that was slightly shorter than the main one, which meant you really had to be careful about where you placed the serving dishes, and sometimes even the card table with the wonky leg, which added an exciting touch of unpredictability to the proceedings.

Next would come the debate over which tablecloths to use – the double damask ones or the Christmas cloth that Mom’s grandmother had cross-stitched decades earlier. If they were all pressed into service it was a sure thing that the Christmas turkey that year would be well over 20 pounds.

Over the years that table saw many guests, ranging from my father’s eccentric but always entertaining extended family and a lonely high school classmate of my mother’s who would more or less encamp for the holidays through to single people from our parish—St. Basil’s—and a gangly teenager from down the street who would appear for turkey after having had his first couple of servings at his own home.

We’d be a ragtag bunch wearing the tissue paper crowns from our Christmas crackers at jaunty angles, all of us ready to move over as more people arrived for dessert or a drink. For my dad, an only child, the bigger the crowd the better the Christmas.

Years later, when I first heard The Chieftains’ St. Stephen’s Day Murders I immediately bought my brothers copies and we all compared notes on the parts that most reminded us of our childhood.

That song, of course, came out long before Christmas dinner moved to my house, with my own children now the ones rolling their eyes at the goings-on. I felt less than ready to commit to such a big meal but it was time to give my parents a break. And when I complained to my mother that my gravy didn’t match hers, or that the stuffing wasn’t right, she would reassure me that the person who cooks Christmas dinner never actually tastes the meal, especially when the group is large and the dishes need refilling before the cook has even been served.

Soon, Mike and I found ourselves with our own additional guests – someone who’d had a falling out with family, for example, or friends of the kids who happened to swing by to say hello right at dinner time. The piano bench would be pressed into service for extra seating and we’d be set.

Now the one creating space in a much smaller dining room with a much smaller table, I developed a new appreciation for my parents’ Christmas energy and their sense of a practical commitment to their faith. They modelled by example, clearly mindful of all their blessings. They were never showy about adding the leaves to the table; they just did it.

In time, I was shown that an expandable guest list was a gift that goes both ways. The year my father died and I was feeling a tad orphaned, our dearest friends simply announced they would be joining us for Christmas and that was that. I am still grateful.

I’m writing this while polishing silver, deciding which Christmas tablecloth to use. My parents’ table is tucked away in my basement and yet again I am wondering when I’ll get around to having it stripped and refinished so that it matches my buffet – the same buffet that once held pride of place in my parents’ dining room.

I’m also wondering where the time has gone. My oldest son and I will be sharing cooking duties this year, with all four children, two daughters-in-law and three grandchildren in attendance.

In my heart I am still the little girl watching the table magically expand. When reality inevitably strikes, however, I remember I am very much a grown-up, missing the people I once shared Christmas dinner with, my dining room now filled with ghosts and memories.

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Lisa Phan is a first-year student in Life Sciences with an aspiration for nursing. Embracing St. Mike’s as her second home, she is part of the Christianity & Culture club, Campus Ministry choir, and St. Basil’s Parish.

An honest reflection from a first year St. Michael’s College student, extending my warm prayer and wishes to all.

Advent is a season of hope for everyone—encountered in many different ways. Hope allows our hearts to be attentive and open to miracles, big or small. You and I are miracles, every child born and every living heartbeat is a miracle. For Christians, Advent is especially a reflective time as we prepare our hearts for the coming of Jesus, the Messiah (“Anointed One”). Singing O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, we await a baby boy on Christmas and a promised King in his Second Coming. As spoken through the prophet Isaiah, “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel (meaning ‘God is with us’),” this child was a miracle to be revealed. This child was born emanating light and love to the world.

As much as we want a joyful spirit for this season leading up to Christmas, I am aware that each one of us has our own burdens. Amid the chill air of winter, the stress of final exams, I realized I was entering this year’s Advent season with a restless heart. Life can seem so fast-paced, the future uncertain, and we may feel aimless when we are so caught up in the motions. As a community at St. Mike’s, we can walk through this season together.

Deep within me, I longed to have my hope renewed, and to kindle hope also in others around me. I did not want to live in a survival mode, but to truly live with meaning, purpose and authentic connections with people and all of nature around me. Thus, in Advent, I sought peace for hearts that need healing like mine. For a Saviour that heals my heart so that I may also heal others. A Light that illuminates truth and overcomes all my fear so I may also flourish and liberate others from their own fears. A Love that warms my heart so I may also warm the ones trembling in coldness. I pray for the lonely ones to meet genuine care, and the ones who suffer to meet true consolation. These desires are closest to my heart as a Christian.

I noticed how simple things can warm your heart. A candle lit. Warm sunlight. A harmony of birds chirping and squirrels running. A smile shared with friends, family, and passing-by people on the street.

Moreover, this year, I am grateful to celebrate Advent on St. Michael’s College campus, and at St. Basil’s Parish. From Taizé Prayer, the St. Basil’s Advent retreat, the Schola Cantorum concert, Newman Centre’s community dinner, to Campus Ministry masses – all around the University of Toronto campus are enriching experiences to prepare my hearts and senses for Christ. During these four weeks, we are lighting the Advent candles in the spirit of hope, peace, joy and love. Advent retreats have been grounding me in stillness and silence and deepening my faith. I find myself blessed with a refreshed mind, with patience in my struggles, with courage to grow from my failings, and dedication to my studies. Though there are many doubts and fears, again and again, I am learning to surrender all to God and imitate Mother Mary’s fiat, “Be it unto me according to your word.”

Throughout the rest of this Advent season, may our hearts be transformed and our gaze be softened with love. May we see and cherish all small miracles in our days and share joy and hope with all those around us. May this be a season of deep inner peace and healing for each of us in St. Mike’s community.

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