'Is it I Lord?'

“I was very pregnant,” said Teri Rizvi, who has provided communication support and advice to four UD presidents. I had asked her for a few words about an event 29 years ago.

She remembers that day well. So do I. It began for me with a breakfast meeting at the Golden Nugget Pancake House. I was discussing with a friend a piece she had written about her young daughter; it was beautiful, full of life and love. From there I went to the office of a man whom somebody thought would make a good interview. It may have been, but what remains in memory is an office with no sign of life, no pictures of family, no mementos, no life.

From there I went to UD. Standing on the steps of St. Mary’s was our then-secretary, Cynthia Rippie, office mother to scores of students. She told me to go to Miami Valley Hospital. “Something’s happened to Ben.” Ben, my youngest child, died that morning at the age of 15. Suddenly upon a soccer practice field, his heart stopped. Attempts to revive him were pointless; the autopsy showed catastrophic damage.

The following days for his family were a daze. Friends, relatives appearing, their presence making statements words could not. People wanted to do something; Teri and Zafar Rizvi did — they did the work to set up the Benjamin Taylor Columbus Memorial Scholarship at the University of Dayton.

Afterward, Teri wrote in an essay for UD Magazine, “The frailty of life is beyond our comprehension when it involves those who have not yet learned to drive, earned a college diploma, fallen in love with a kindred spirit. … Ben died on his field of dreams, doing what he loved best.”

Teri described what is maybe “a parent’s best game plan — to allow our children to follow their hearts.” Many people at UD have a passionate concern for aiding students in finding what some call a vocation, others, a calling. However we describe it, it is that something in life that is more than a job or even a career, more than a routine of daily activities. It is something deeper, something we intensely feel we are meant to do.

Scholarships are mundane and monetary things. Donors give. University stewards invest. Students and parents pay less. But scholarships are more than transactions. By reducing financial pressure, they allow a degree of freedom, freedom to perhaps find what we are meant to do, who we are meant to be.

I asked recipients of Ben’s scholarship about their UD experience and what they do now. Replies gave evidence that they know who they are and what they are meant to do.

Jacob Slomko ’24, an elementary music educator, arranges for a jazz fusion ensemble, teaches a percussion ensemble, and performs with a community band and jam sessions. He said UD provided him with “opportunities for growth not just as an educator and musician but also as a leader and human being.”

While at UD, Grace Docken ’20 led the club swim team to nationals, made a retreat and did thesis research in England. Now, she said, her work for a health care software company whose focus is the patient “lets me keep the Marianist charisms instilled at UD close in much of what I do.” Part of a strong faith community, she also coaches volleyball at a Catholic middle school.

Jordan Harbeck, a junior sport management major, has finished first in class projects in sales and philanthropy. A manager for the men’s basketball team, he worked alongside Flyer basketball alumni with The Red Scare team in The Basketball Tournament, contributing to equipment management, film analysis and scouting. His goal is to coach Division I basketball.

At a recent 10 a.m. Sunday Mass in the chapel, a song that had been sung also at Ben’s funeral Mass turned my thoughts to Ben and other young people. “Is It I, Lord?” recounts the boy Samuel hearing a voice calling his name at night. It takes him awhile, but he realizes it is the voice of God.

We don’t know when we will hear that voice or exactly what it sounds like, but the Lord does call us.

I think the person in Teri’s womb 29 years ago, Ali Rizvi ’18, heard a voice. With a UD degree in human rights and a grad degree in social work, he has counseled in inner-city schools and now is a social worker and volunteers as co-director at a project teaching young people useful culinary skills.

These days I’m sometimes not sure what I’m hearing in our world, but the young give me hope.

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A version of this article appears in print in the Spring 2025 University of Dayton Magazine, Page 62. EXPLORE THE ISSUE — MORE ONLINE