By Josh Siatkowski | Staff Writer

Slapped on the side of Brooks Residential College, the words, “To you I hand the torch,” are for many, the extent of knowledge on Samuel Palmer Brooks’ Immortal Message. But Homecoming is a better time than any to remember the story behind those words: they’re a message of hopefulness and responsibility, even when the times around us are full of uncertainty, struggle and death.

Brooks, the president of Baylor from 1902 to 1931, is best remembered for his Immortal Message speech, which he wrote in May of 1931 to the graduating class. Even those who have never read the short address will know it by its signature line:

“To you seniors of the past, of the present, of the future I entrust the care of Baylor University. To you I hand the torch.”

Now almost 100 years removed, Brooks’ powerful words risk being watered down into a catchphrase. But the context behind the Immortal Message lifts it high above the realm of slogans.

Most know that Brooks himself was facing death at the time of his message. Diagnosed with cancer in 1930, he spent much of that year hospitalized and penned the speech from his sickbed.

But death loomed over much more than Brooks’ bed. At the time of his message, loss was almost everywhere. Just four years before, in January of 1927, Baylor lost about half of its basketball team — the Immortal Ten — in a bus crash. And even looking ahead, the university’s future seemed awfully grim.

Around the time of Brooks’ death, Baylor was in severe financial distress. As was the case with many institutions during the Great Depression, the university’s debt became unmanageable, and according to an article from The Baylor History Project, it peaked at over $450,000 in 1932. When enrollment started to drop due to the faltering economy, there wasn’t enough income to cover the interest payments. And the endowment, according to another article, was “practically zero” after Brooks’ death, giving the university little to fall back on.

The troubles reached a point where pens, pencils and paper clips were rationed, the first article highlights. It goes on to say that for three months in 1932, faculty even went without receiving payment.

With his own mortality and the uncertainty of Baylor’s sustainability, more salient than ever, it is inspiring that Brooks could even think of the future in the way he does here:

“Do not face the future with timidity nor with fear. Face it boldly, courageously, joyously. Have faith in what it holds.”

It’s easy to have faith in the future when times are good, but that’s not what the Immortal Message is about. It’s more than just a thread that provides continuity between generations, and it’s more than a feel-good story. It was, and still is, a delivery of light in the darkest of times.