“On July 21, 2025, at Université Saint-Joseph in Beirut, Christopher Chagoury delivered this speech on behalf of the Gilbert and Rose-Marie Chagoury family, in memory of his brother, Ramez G. Chagoury. Addressing the graduating class, he honored his brother’s legacy and shared a message of hope, resilience, and purpose.”
Your Excellency, Minister of Information, Mr. Paul Morcos,
Your Excellencies, Ministers,
Rector, Professor Salim Daccache,
Mr. Samir Assaf, Chairman of the USJ Foundation Board,
Vice-Rectors,
Dean Mirna Ghanagé of the Faculty of Arts and Humanities – Ramez Gilbert Chagoury,
Deans, Professors,
Dear students, parents, and friends,
It is an honor to speak today on behalf of the Gilbert and Rose-Marie Chagoury family.
My parents’ deep commitment to the mission of this university—and to education more broadly—led them to support this institution, and in doing so, give a new name to this faculty:
The Faculty of Arts and Humanities – Ramez G. Chagoury,
in memory of my brother.
This name is not just an act of recognition; it is a promise.
A promise of remembrance, of ideas, of transmission.
My brother was not someone who sought personal accolades.
He was a seeker of truth, a lover of precise language, a weaver of ideas, and a lucid dreamer.
He carried within him that rare spark of the artist:
the ability to see the world not only as it is,
but as it could become.
In light of this, I can think of no better way for my parents to honor his life.
And today, it is through you, the graduating class, that his dream lives on.
Ramez had a profound love for Lebanon.
He believed that a nation’s future lies in its youth—
and that the future of youth depends on education.
To see his name now associated with this faculty and this university is more than symbolic.
It is a declaration: we continue.
We do not give up.
Your generation has not had an easy path.
You studied in the midst of crisis, in a world shaken by pandemics, instability, and uncertainty.
And yet, here you are—
Graduated.
Standing tall.
Ready.
Ready to think.
Ready to act.
Ready to write the next chapter.
You carry something rare: clarity of vision, and also momentum.
You question, you doubt, you fight for meaning, justice, and coherence—
and that is your strength.
I’m reminded of the words of Khalil Gibran, which resonate today with undiminished power:
“You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.”
This is not only about parenting.
It’s a reminder that each generation’s mission is to propel the next one farther, higher.
Our role is not to contain, but to launch.
And now, that momentum belongs to you.
The world needs bridges.
It needs listeners.
It needs bold initiatives.
Not prefabricated answers,
but profound, thoughtful questions.
And you are equipped for this.
This faculty hasn’t only given you knowledge.
It has taught you to think, to connect, to create.
To read between the lines.
To hear the silences.
To search for solutions where others see only dead ends.
Yes, Lebanon is an unfinished poem.
And you are here to write the next verses.
Write them with courage.
With tenderness.
With fire.
Let your ideas be seeds.
Let your actions be bridges.
Let your voices reach where others no longer listen.
Be that light which transforms doubt into vision,
and pain into purpose.
You don’t have to solve everything.
But you can, each in your own way, reignite sparks where the world has lost hope.
In memory of Ramez,
on behalf of my parents,
and in honor of the future you represent,
I say simply: thank you, congratulations, and go forth.
Dare.
Dream.
Build.
And above all, never forget why you started.