Doctor in Philosophia

We did Latin in school. In fact I did O level Latin and managed to pass. Very few schools still offer the classics, and there will be fewer still with the current teacher redundancies and cut-backs, but that’s another story.

My smattering of the ancient language was not enough to allow me to follow all of the proceedings at Friday’s graduation ceremony at Trinity College Dublin. It was a very special and wonderful experience, nonetheless, as we watched our daughter being kitted out in a bright red and yellow gold gown – the symbolic crowning of her academic achievement. She and her fellow PhD graduands went outside into the sunshine and mingled like canaries among crows with the other postgraduates on College Square.

We were surrounded by tourists, many of whom may have been on their way to see Ireland’s finest treasure, the famous Book of Kells, housed in the Trinity library. There are four vellum volumes in all which are gospel accounts, also in Latin, taken from the Vulgate. They were exquisitely crafted by hand, a work of artistic and spiritual devotion by Irish monks somewhere from the late 8th to the early 9th centuries. These combine Western calligraphy with ornate swirling motifs typical of Insular art, also in gold and vermillion. Many of the decorative elements are imbued with Christian symbolism. It’s a few years since I saw the exhibit, but I recall being deeply moved by the image of the snake struggling free from its scales. It spoke to me then of the process of being constantly renewed. I thought of it again as I watched the students donning robes like a new skin representing a transition from one stage and status to the next.

The bell tolled as we took our seats and then we heard the applause of the tourists outside who witnessed the brightly coloured procession led by the Provost across the cobblestones and into the 200 year old Great Hall. When her name was called, Maria stepped onto the raised dais and her doctorate was conferred in Latin. Then the Pro-Chancellor shook her hand and said, ‘Congratulations, Dr Morrison, very well done.’ Talk about proud parents!

Traditionally, the award of a degree signified a step from one level of responsibility to another in the art of disputation. The recipient commenced a higher role in the search for knowledge and understanding, so the degree ceremony is known as Commencements. The shocking thing is that only girls are capped because it is believed that men will continue to learn, discover and be amazing; the women, however, are presumed to have reached the ceiling of their learning and are expected to be satisfied and return to the kitchen sink.

My daughter’s thesis examined A Role for Type III Interferons in the Natural Killer Cell Immune Response to Virus. Me neither. Kitchen sink, I don’t think. Congratulations, Maria!

The Pro-Chancellor presents ‘meos filios’ (my sons and daughters) to the Chancellor as worthy not only because of ability, but also because of character. There will always be room for growth and becoming.

The Pro-Chancellor conferred the honours ‘ominis vero fausti felicisque in futurum’ (as an earnest of future success and happiness). This was an echo of the words of Psalm 20 which I have been praying for Maria since her childhood: 'May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed.'

The Commencements were adjourned ‘in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti’.

To him be the glory!