As many of us prepare to leave the hallowed halls of Harvard University, we’ll bring the skills we’ve learned into a world that needs them — badly. After all, the value of our education isn’t solely defined by the knowledge we gain, but by how we use it to better serve others. I hope more of us consider dedicating our talents and wisdom to a career in public service.

This hope is shared by the very grounds of our campus. Located on Massachusetts Avenue, just across from the Harvard Bookstore, is a gate named after one Samuel Dexter, Class of 1890. Dexter, “a natural leader by all with whom he came in contact,” was president of his class at Harvard. When he graduated from this esteemed institution, he, like all of us, was expected to be a leader in the world. Tragically, his story ended just four years after his graduation, in 1894, when he died from cerebral spinal meningitis.

Upon its erection in 1901, an inscription by then-Harvard president Charles W. Eliot, Class of 1853, was carved on the outside of Dexter Gate: “Enter to grow in wisdom.” Over the last 122 years, tens of thousands from this institution have uniquely embarked on that mission.

I remember being called to this journey like it was yesterday. It was 2020, the height of the Zoom era, and I had just finished attending a remote community meeting.

Three years earlier, in 2017, I had been elected to office on the Jersey City Board of Education. My election made me the youngest Muslim elected official in America.

In January 2021, a year after I arrived at Harvard Law School, I was elected as the president of the Jersey City school board. My mandate was to reopen the schools as the pandemic came to an end. I thought I had a lot of wisdom by that point, but little did I know what awaited me beyond Dexter Gate.

The next month, on the eve of my 24th birthday, I was diagnosed with stage four cancer. I can still remember the shock and fear that washed over me when I received the news. My whole world turned upside down in an instant. Suddenly, everything that I had planned for my life was in jeopardy, and I was overwhelmed by a sense of deep uncertainty about the future. I felt like I was in a daze, like I couldn’t process the information the doctor had just told me.

I was scared, angry, and sad all at the same time, and I didn’t know how to cope with my emotions. I remember asking God, how could this happen to me? How could my passion for public service be so meaningless in the face of nature?

I’m sure Samuel Dexter felt a similar sense of disbelief when he was diagnosed.

But I got the chance that Dexter never did. In August 2021, I officially beat stage four cancer.

A month later, in September 2021, our first month back on campus after the pandemic, I got to walk through Dexter Gate again. This time, my eyes were drawn to the inscription that greets your gaze as you leave the Yard: “Depart to better serve thy country and thy kind.”

Our lives on this Earth are limited. Often, I hear those at Harvard suggest that we should worry about ourselves first and society later. But my journey has taught me to embody Harvard’s mission as soon as I leave its gates — to serve others by spreading the quest for veritas, the pursuit of the truth. Our time on Earth is too short to do otherwise.

We have had a great privilege bestowed on us. We are fortunate to be reminded of it every time we enter the gates of Harvard University.

Now I ask you, how will you depart? Will you use your wisdom to grow your personal fortunes and wealth? Or will you decide to contribute to the greater good and better serve thy country and thy kind?

Hopefully, your growth in wisdom will make your decision as easy as mine.

Mussab Ali is a third-year student at Harvard Law School.