Ari Johnson, class of 2023

On August 22, 2019,

Before the global pandemic, 

Before this past presidential election,

Before the war started between Russia and Ukraine,

And before everyone started learning how to make sourdough bread.

I drove down the I-15 in my 1992 Subaru on a 100-degree day with a broken air conditioning all the way to Murray Utah. Upon arriving at Cedar Park Business Park, I got out of my car and wandered in the heat for about 20 minutes looking for a specific door. 

When I found the small two-room setup that was Mount Liberty College, I sweatily walked into a small room with a large wooden table to see 9 faces I had never seen before. 

Of those faces, there are three of us graduating today. Three of us who have spent the last four years reading political philosophy, debating about dueling, translating Latin sentences, attempting to understand Wittgenstein and Derrida, and many many more things. 

I’m fully willing to admit that four years ago, I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into. I chose to come to Mount Liberty College, a brand-new school, because of a gut feeling that it was exactly what I had always been looking for. That’s how I like to make a lot of decisions in my life. 

All I knew four years ago is that I wanted an education. I wanted to learn about old stuff. I wanted to read good books. 

I wanted to be a part of the great conversation. 

It hasn’t always been easy to be the guinea pig of a brand-new school… especially a college. The world has a very particular opinion on the purpose of higher education.  

Over the past four years, I’ve heard all of the famous objections to a liberal arts education. 

The three words I’ve heard the most often as objections to my being at this school are that it’s not practical, reasonable, or useful.

These words are what education has become all about.

Practical.

Reasonable.

Useful.

Just a few weeks ago, I sat in my senior literature class reading The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. In the book, Newland Archer lives a practical, reasonable, and useful life and starts to question if it will really bring him meaning and joy. 

His practicable, reasonable, and useful fiancée, May, says to him: “We can’t behave like people in novels though, can we?”

To which Newland responds, “Why not–why not–why not?”

This question is one I’ve loved to ask myself and others. Why can’t we make decisions that are a little less practical? That don’t seem to make a lot of sense. Decisions that for whatever reason we feel called to make even though there’s no evidence, no proof, and no real reason. 

In opposition to the scientific method, why can’t we act based on a little more of our senses, our emotions, our gut feelings?

Why do we have to choose an education that is reasonable instead of a learning process that calls to a deeper part of ourselves, a craving for truth and beauty? 

This is the decision I have made by coming to Mount Liberty, and it has brought meaning to my life that I know I couldn’t have found any just any college institution. 

My education here has been focused on learning for the sake of itself and not necessarily for utility or purpose. 

It has been an education to learn about the world simply because it exists and it’s interesting!

It has been an education focused on maintaining a state of awe as I reflect on the complexity of everything around me.

It has been an education that encourages a lifelong interest and desire to read, study, discuss, teach, observe, and feel. 

My education has connected my heart and head, romance and reason. 

There is no amount of words or time that could summarize everything I’ve learned over the past four years, so I thought today I would focus on a few core memories. 

The first one comes from my very first semester at the school. All of us were gathered around our big wooden table with a different translation of the Iliad. I had Robert Fagles, Mr. Jones had Caroline Alexander, someone had Samuel Butler, and another Alexander Pope. We each took turns reading from the Iliad and laughing…. Literally laughing and having the best time of our lives because it’s really quite hilarious to see the differences in translations… and because old stuff is kind of fun sometimes. I remember thinking at that moment that I never thought I could have so much fun with Homer. 

Another core memory comes from my time in Apollonius. Apollonius was an ancient mathematician who wrote about Conic sections. Yes, circles, hyperbolas, parabolas, and how many different things you can learn from these shapes. I had spent a good 3 hours with two pages of his proposition, and I just didn’t get it. I was getting increasingly frustrated and felt like giving up as I looked at it for the hundredth time. Suddenly, everything clicked, my mind finally caught up with what I was reading, and I understood. 

There’s no real substitute for understanding. 

Another core memory came from this past year, when in each of our classes we were reading from either Aristotle or Plato for ten straight weeks. This core memory came gradually over a long period of time. Friday nights poring over Aristotle’s four causes and trying to understand what he was talking about. Early mornings reading Plato’s Timaeus and the Republic, attempting to understand what he was trying to say about the forms. Hours spent reading in the car before school started trying to stay awake reading Aristotle’s observations about worms and frogs. I remember the moment when I felt like I started to grasp why these two philosophers are so influential and how the observations of the heavens and the earth are foundational to all learning. 

Another core memory comes from when I first successfully translated a Latin sentence into English… I won’t mention how many failed attempts came before this… but it’s an incredible feeling to know that you can understand something in another tongue…even if the translation is quite choppy and doesn’t sound very good. 

The last core memory I’ll share was when I learned in front of a guest speaker who was a Jewish scholar that I had completely misunderstood the definition of the word arbitrary. I had thought the word meant exactly the opposite of what it does mean, and I passionately shared with this scholar that the 10 commandments are entirely, emphatically, and completely arbitrary. This is much less of a core memory and more of a traumatic experience, which is why I’ve made the decision to strike the word arbitrary from my vocabulary for the rest of my life!

All of these memories and many many more would not have been possible without associating with the amazing professors who were brave enough to start and teach at this school.  

It would be remiss of me not to individually thank each professor who has helped me grapple with these incredibly complex ideas. 

Thank you to Dr. Jensen, who introduced me to the human nature debate and its relationship with political power. 

Thank you to Mr Jones, who taught me that the way I see the world is often naive and undeveloped, and who started me down the path of observing history and the world in a more honest and realistic way. 

Thank you to Professor Knox, who is the reason I understand the United States Constitution and who has helped me become politically mature. 

Thank you to Mrs Greenman, who has had the remarkable ability to be both teacher and peer and has shown me what it looks like to have the lifelong desire to learn. 

Thank you to Dr Rogers, who has been my creativity therapist and introduced me to a debate I didn’t know existed. 

Thank you to Mr C, who listened and observed in a way that contributed to my intellectual confidence. 

To Mrs Briggs, who had the herculean task of teaching me math and science and who truly held the key to bringing all the random parts of the liberal arts together in harmony.  

And thank you to Dr Smurthwaite, who had the second Herculean task of teaching me Latin and English grammar. I hope I speak English better because of you. 

The question every liberal arts student is always asked is
What are you going to do with your education?

And the greatest response I’ve heard comes from my friend and fellow student Mahayla who once said, “Anything I want.”

My education here at Mount Liberty College has given me a fresh, new, and unique view of God, myself, and the world. I know where real meaning comes from, and I share the expression from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow who wrote, “Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal.”

Thank You