“We are radically dependent on one another.” CSTM Dean Rev. Michael McCarthy, S.J. shared this statement in reference to Professor Mary-Jo Iozzio’s new book Radical Dependence: Anthropology, Ethics, and Disability (2026). All of us in attendance at the theology graduation ceremony for the class of 2026 sat listening in the beautiful St. Ignatius Church, our final time assembled together in this moment of transition. For many of us it had been two years of intense and fruitful studies, some here for longer or shorter. As a student body, we represented the Global Church, with classmates from all over the world seeking a theology that ministers.
“ “There is an ebb to every tide, except the tide of God’s grace” ”
Twenty-first century existence is frequently marked by desire for fierce independence. This is exemplified by our unsettled global relations and the frequent commodity and commercialism of personhood. Even art and artists suffer from a kind of self-serving radical independence. T.S. Eliot wrote that modern literature was plagued by its encouragement of readers to “get what they can out of life while it lasts, to miss no ‘experience’ that presents itself, and to sacrifice themselves, if they make any sacrifices at all, only for the sake of tangible benefits to others in this world either now or in the future” (p. 106, “Religion and Literature,” 1935). Perhaps Eliot touches on what he considers the loss of a valued pursuit of mystery and transcendence, traded instead for instant gratification, empirical knowledge as exclusive for all understanding, and absolute certainty as the only dependable good worth striving for in this life.
This radical pursuit of independence even seeped into my work as a professional classical violinist, and in recent years I began feeling uneasy with ideals formed within me over many years of pursuing my love for the musical arts. The idea of making one’s musical ‘voice’ so distinct quietly underpinned artistic pedagogy and performance, yet could so easily slip into a dismantled and isolated pursuit of egotistical self-indulgence masked as true artistry. It was this growing interior dissatisfaction with a disintegration of my full humanity in the pursuit of musical excellence that led me to pursue theology and explore deeper questions at the foreground of my mind and heart: what is the source of all creativity? Why is it that musicians so often naturally seek that transcendent ‘something’ beyond music, but are hesitant to explore what that ‘something’ might be (God, Truth…)? How might I integrate theology with my work as a musician? How can the beautiful insights I’ve learned through my studies and career as a musician inform my Catholic faith? What does vocation have to do with it all? Two years ago, I set my heart on theological studies at Boston College. Two years later, I received profound answers to these questions through my studies, along with new questions and insights to explore going forward.
Reframing my musical and academic pursuits through the lens of theology has shifted my goals: radical inter-dependence, not independence, creates personal identity and develops our musical voice. Self-mastery is for self-gift, as St. John Henry Newman wrote in his sermon “Self-Denial, the Test of Religious Earnestness” (1833). Nurturing time with others who can lovingly and constructively point us to refine our skills helps us maintain the balance of confidence in our gifts to where we have developed them, while also encouraging us to seek the ‘more’ (magis, as Jesuits like to call this), a teleological pursuit etched in the deepest recesses of our hearts that yearns for completion and seeks new heights of personal growth. The interior and insistent desire for growth, beauty, communication, and connection that artists are drawn to is not simply artistic and aesthetic; it is theological. It is a call on the heart of artists to pursue and contribute to a greater Song that they hear deep within themselves and recognize outside of themselves. It is a call to contribute to the building of the kingdom of God, an invitation to the peace of Christian revelation, in the here and now.
We are made for relationship. Christian belief informs our theological anthropology as human persons made in the image and likeness of God, who is a Trinitarian relationship of Persons as Father, Son, and Spirit. God is immanently relational, and the human person, created by God, by extension reflects and reveals God to the world as imago Dei. All aspects of our being contribute to and embody this reality.
We belong to one another, but not in a way that infringes on our authentic freedom. Margaret Marion Gower, drawing on poet Mary Oliver, writes that friendship between members of different religions cultivates the virtue of attention. Certainly, the arts provide a sacred meeting place for this kind of encounter. Friendship, a form of relationship, maintains “a reciprocity of autonomy” where friends can be “two together, not one” (p. 27, “‘The Beginning of Devotion’: Attention in Interreligious Friendship,” 2025). We are mysteriously united and yet free. In our reciprocal attention to others, we learn to pay attention to God in our midst, and to God in us.
As I looked around at my graduating class, dearest friends in attendance, my husband and parents in the pews behind me, and the many professors and mentors who formed me holistically, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my indebtedness to all my teachers who came before and all to come. It is the ancient African philosophy of Ubuntu: I am because we are. Life is meant to be lived with and for each other: we are “men and women for others” as Fr. Pedro Arrupe, S.J. famously stated.
I feel immensely blessed for the gift of education at the CSTM, where I dedicated time to the study of theology and ministry. Though I now bear the title and responsibility of ‘Master of Theological Studies,’ there is no way to master theology - this is by definition impossible! But as the old adage by St. Anselm goes, theology is ‘faith seeking understanding’. It is a beautiful relief to know that the mastery of theology relies on grace, not simply my own efforts.
The striking gift of studying theology is the ever-blossoming discovery of what underpins human and divine activity, the mysterious yet visceral reality of God in all existence. There is an order and peace in all uncertainty that moves forward into eschatological hope. Theology has transformed my sense of being and purpose and has become the foundation for all my pursuits, including music. To artists interested in theological studies, I share this final thought: I did not lose music by studying theology. Rather, I found the silent Song within art itself and was reminded that art is an act of co-creation, not endless invention. Artistic decisions are nurtured by relationships, refined through time with the Creator and with all people as we move through life, shaping one another as “iron sharpens iron...” (Proverbs 27:17, NRSVUE). The joy of theology is the lifelong pursuit of finding God in all things, in all people, and in all seasons of life.
“There is an ebb to every tide, except the tide of God’s grace” - Professor Thomas H. Groome, who shared this old Gaelic saying at our commencement in St. Ignatius Church on May 18, 2026.
