In some ways, commencement 2005, held on May 20 in Alice Tully Hall, was like most others: Degrees were awarded, honors and prizes doled out, a speech delivered, and, in the end, a class of 240 bright-eyed graduates went out into the world armed with diplomas and youthful optimism. But commencement 2005—Juilliard's 100th—was also unlike any other: The commemorative Juilliard Medal, designed by the artist Milton Glaser and commissioned by Juilliard, was unveiled and presented to 16 past honorary doctorate recipients. The School's president, Joseph W. Polisi, was surprised with an honorary doctorate (his fourth) from the institution he has led for two decades. And the long-awaited Juilliard centennial season officially got under way. Following is a transcript of President Polisi's commencement speech to the class of 2005.

For more images of commencement, go to the Slide Show: Juilliard Commencement on the Centennial Page. Listen to President Polisi's commencement address online

As we reflect on the 100-year history of The Juilliard School, several words come to mind: excellence, dedication, joy, discipline, tradition, passion. These words remarkably apply just as well to you, our graduates in 2005, as they have to generations before you.

In turn, much has changed in our nation, our world, and in our concept of humanity during this century. Two world wars and numerous smaller military conflicts have brought our world to the edge of cataclysm on more than one occasion. The American economy has moved through cycles that have changed the way we live and what we hope to achieve. Our domestic history has reflected a quest for greater equality for all our citizens, yet we understand every day that inequality continues to exist in our society and, more troubling, in the minds of many of our fellow citizens.

Juilliard surprised President Polisi by presenting him with an honorary doctorate. (Photo by Peter Schaaf)

In the 100 years of Juilliard's existence, the world has experienced perhaps the greatest growth in the power of technology in the history of humankind. Today we travel and communicate in ways that were unimaginable in 1905. We now must also question whether the quality of our discourse has improved as well.

But through these 100 years, the human condition has not changed significantly. We still love, hate, celebrate, mourn, envy, admire in much the same manner as during the millennia that have preceded our current time on earth. It is a realization that you as young artists should remember well as you change the world through your art.

I would be remiss if I did not include in my remarks today a brief recollection of more current history, just a few months short of four years ago. It was at that time in early September 2001 that many of you graduating today were students at Juilliard for the first time. About a week into your first term at the School, you were faced with the tragedy of September 11.

The events of that day will be part of our collective psyches forever, but it was the days immediately after this event that made me eternally proud of your humanity and individual generosity. For it was in those confusing and frightening days that you stood on line to donate blood at the Red Cross headquarters across Amsterdam Avenue; that you ran down to Ground Zero to participate in the rescue efforts; that you spent hours in makeshift centers near the disaster to present your art to soothe the jagged nerves of rescue workers and family members.

These are gestures of humanity that cannot be legislated, that cannot be taught through a curriculum. This was the moment that many of you realized the healing power of the arts and your individual roles as providers of this serenity and beauty to a devastated and needy populace. This was a time of epiphany for many of us.

All of us have been told at one time or another that we must overcome challenges and move our lives forward. Certainly we must not dwell on the experiences of September 11, but we should also not forget the sense of community and caring that was generated by this tragedy. On the first anniversary of the incident, Juilliard students, faculty, and staff gathered on the Juilliard Theater stage with the volunteer members of the Juilliard Choral Union to perform a sing-in of the Mozart Requiem. The gathering was held at 1 p.m. and we had no idea who would be able to attend. What we saw was a packed house of New Yorkers coming together to experience the beauty and genius of Mozart. It was not only one of the most moving performances I have ever witnessed, it also re-energized my belief that what we do at Juilliard in educating the next generation of performing artists is of deep and enduring value to our society—a society and its citizens who often dismiss or ignore our art as being irrelevant to their daily lives. My message to you today is that there is extraordinary value to your mission as artists and that you, our young graduates, must be the leaders who ensure that the power of the arts will be experienced by future generations of your fellow citizens.

America and the world present confusing and contradictory environments on May 20, 2005. Certainly the young artist of 100 years ago lived in a completely different world from the one you know. Today, we communicate with an efficiency unknown to an earlier time. The wealth of the worldwide economy is at a staggering level. The aspirations of today's citizens of the world have never been higher with a desire for better life styles, more effective medical care, improved education, and the constant desire for peace.

In America, we share these hopes, but approach them in perhaps an overly intensive way. Today's America is more about commercial success than it is about the attainment of excellence; it is more about public display aimed at the lowest common denominator than it is about the realization of intellectual or artistic rigor. Americans now supposedly get their news more often from Comedy Central than from the major networks or daily journals. And we see a nation that may have a problem with its priorities. As Thomas L. Friedman pointed out in a recent column in The New York Times, "Look at the attention Congress has focused on steroids in Major League Baseball … and then look at the attention it has focused on … education in [primary and secondary] American schools."

Students in cap and gown stood in Alice Tully Hall. In the foreground is drama graduate Rebecca Brooksher. (Photo by Peter Schaaf)

Perhaps these results are inevitable as we review our country's history during the past 100 years—a history, in my view, that shows the triumph of commerce over artistry and intellect. A Broadway producer recently commented that "commerce and art always merge, unless it's some hermit who takes his creative ability into a cave … Are we so pure that we can't accept a commercial adjunct to what we create?" At first hearing his words seem plausible, but I now advise you that these thoughts referred not to an innovative production of a challenging play, but to his defense of selling a brand of tequila in his new Broadway musical.

And within this context, I am troubled as to how the arts are perceived in our country. Does America truly see any value in the arts, and if that answer is even partially negative, how will you as the next generation of artists achieve your personal goals in the time ahead?

A refreshing antidote to this sense of malaise occurred this February in Central Park. I speak, of course, of Jeanne-Claude's and Christo's creation of the Gates, described as "a long, billowy saffron ribbon meandering through Central Park … a work of pure joy, a vast populist spectacle of good will and simple eloquence."

It truly was a remarkable artistic event for those of us who had an opportunity to experience the Gates because it brought people together to observe and enjoy a work of pure fancy—a very rare experience in the United States today. The cultural critic Michael Kimmelman commented in The Times, "We didn't need the Gates to make us sensitive … Art is never necessary. It is merely indispensable."

And what does art mean to you as young artists about to embark on your careers? This question can be addressed in the most unexpected ways, in unexpected places. My re-examination of it occurred two weeks ago on the uptown D train while on the way to a game at Yankee Stadium with 30 Juilliard students and faculty members.

As we headed towards the Bronx in a crowded subway car filled with fellow fans in various manifestations of Yankee regalia, one Juilliard student, who was attending his first Yankee game, asked me in a loud voice, "Well, Dr. Polisi, what's so special about the Yankees?" Strangely, I felt that all the passengers in the subway car, who now seemed silent, were waiting for my response. It was clearly my "Seinfeld moment."

What I said was evasive and perhaps a little self-protective, considering the rapt attention of my fellow travelers and Yankee fans. "Well, what's so special about Johann Sebastian Bach?" I answered. The Juilliard students laughed and the fans returned to staring at the floor.

However, the next morning I saw greater depth in my answer. In some unexplained ways, the Yankees and Bach have a spiritual kinship, not in a religious sense, but in a human way. We appreciate the unexpected, the creativity, the striving for excellence (even when the Yanks lose), the synergy and wonderful proportions of the work of both Bach and the Yankees. We can't always explain why these experiences allow us to enjoy our humanity more fully, but we know that our lives would be diminished in some indescribable way without them.

There are no quick or easy solutions to the important issues you will address as young artists in the time ahead, but I am reminded of the adage that "it is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness." Your determination to make a difference as artists will be fundamental to the future of the arts in America, but your task will not be easy.

Pianist Vicky Chow (center) received her Bachelor of Music degree from President Polisi as Laurie Carter (left), vice president for legal affairs and executive director of jazz studies, read the names of the graduates. (Photo by Peter Schaaf)

One morning in December of last year a newspaper article appeared that essentially questioned, as I read it, why anyone would actually decide to enroll in a school to become a professional performing artist, especially if they understood how difficult it would be to find gainful employment after graduation. And I think the implicit message of the article was that there seemed to be no inherent value in participating in the long and demanding process that would result in a fully educated performing artist. After all, the argument goes, in our commercial, vocationally driven time, if you can't be guaranteed to use your education to get a job, why do it in the first place? Finally, the writer presented professional artistic education itself as being bereft of intellectual rigor or experience. As you can imagine, my morning coffee tasted rather bitter after reading this misguided tract.

However, let us remember the words of Mark Twain, who said of the music of Wagner, "It's not as bad as it sounds."

The need for the artistic experience to be an important element of our society has only increased since Juilliard began its tradition of excellence in 1905. It will be your charge to help our fellow citizens understand the important role that the arts have in the fabric of our society. A role and presence that heals, stimulates, enlivens, makes us more discerning, and thrusts excellence into our lives.

The term "elitist" is a particularly pejorative one in America today. When used, it generally exudes the concept of exclusion and separation. Few people wish to be known by such a term. Often I am asked if Juilliard is an elitist institution, since it is so selective at the time of admission, highly rigorous during the course of study, and successful in preparing its graduates for some of the most prominent and sought-after positions in the worlds of dance, drama, and music.

My response is to dwell on what we do achieve and what this great institution has been doing for its 100-year life. I say that Juilliard is about striving for excellence, for never being content to simply get the notes or words or steps right. We attempt to move from technical mastery to artistry and to communicate powerfully and passionately the message that must be presented to any audience, large or small. And such tasks can only be achieved through a profound intellectual understanding of the artistic material at hand.

Juilliard is about humanity; about the goal of vividly presenting the cornucopia of human emotions to a populace that desperately needs to understand better the human condition.

Juilliard is about caring; about using art to soothe our fellow citizens on this troubled planet by making the artistic messages we convey be experiences that allow us to deal with the challenges of each day. Every year I see more and more of our current students and graduates go out into the world with exactly that mission in their minds and bodies, whether performing for prisoners on Rikers Island or working with disadvantaged children at an arts camp in southern Florida.

Juilliard is about joy; a joy that is experienced equally by our performers and our audiences. A joy that combines your artistry, energy, and creativity with your desire to transform your audience for the better through your art.

I cannot think of a more meaningful intellectual experience in any academic discipline than the one our students address every day at Juilliard. If we speak of high standards in the arts, we are often branded with the aforementioned elitist label. After all, American Idol has so-called standards and no one would ever call them elitist. Humor aside, it is disturbing for any committed artist to realize that the majority of American citizens view this popular television show as the ultimate arbiter of standards in the music profession. Well, at least Mick Jagger understands that Juilliard rocks!

Yes, our world is a complicated place, perhaps more so than in 1905. In order for the arts to flourish in our society today, we must be more clever than in an earlier time. More willing to perform in unconventional venues to engage the public; to think "out of the box," so to speak. I have total faith that you, our graduates, are completely up to this task. Take what Juilliard has given you and use it to change the world for the better. Our expectations are high for you, but you're used to that. Don't ever compromise your standards in how you present your art. Use your communicative powers as artists to engage more and more of our fellow citizens in the artistic process.

Your challenge is great but the rewards are even greater. As President Kennedy said regarding the importance of the arts in our society and his quest for excellence in America: "I look forward to an America which will reward achievement in the arts as we reward achievement in business or statecraft … And I look forward to an America which commands respect throughout the world not only for its strength but for its civilization as well."

He also said, "We choose to [excel], not because [the tasks] are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win."

And please never forget the great respect and admiration we have for you all. Yes, times change, but with the energy, joy, discipline, and determination that you have brought to your studies and your art, I know that you will show our society the value that the arts bring to the human condition. And we as your mentors will marvel as you succeed in this crucial and lofty task.