It all began with music and admiration. Long before Ryan Cunningham ’02 was writing musicals, he was looking up to his older brothers, Kevin and Thomas, as they played piano and sax at the Saint Joseph Summer Theatre in Needham, Massachusetts. He knew he didn’t quite have their talent for instruments, but he diligently built sets for Kiss Me, Kate…
Other universities have histories. Notre Dame has legends.
A few decades ago, when I began reading seriously about our search for the divine in nature, I ran across a quote from John Stewart Collis in The Triumph of the Tree
Creative work from Notre Dame people.
While driving around town in my minivan I stop at many lights, park in lots of parking lots, spend hours waiting for children to finish school or other activities. I have a great deal of time to notice the cars around me and read bumper stickers.
I have noticed, just as matter of interest, that you never see a pro-choice sticker on a minivan. I have also noticed a rather popular bumper sticker that reads “Who would Jesus bomb?”…
Santa Cruz, in eastern Bolivia, offered plenty of nearby options for an adventurer. Yet six weeks after arriving to begin a new posting there, I still hadn’t left the city once. Why? I was pregnant.
To be admitted without review by committee: children under the age of 12, sixth-grade teachers, the mothers of triplets, janitors, nuns (all religions), nurses, all other mothers, loggers, policemen with more than 10 years of service, Buddhists (see Appendix A).
The turning point in my long, bumpy and still-unfinished spiritual journey began on a bright summer day when I exited a busy highway outside Sturgis, South Dakota, and headed north into the seemingly infinite horizon of the Great Plains.
My father called me in early November with the words, “something is wrong with me.”
My sister Rosemary was recently widowed. Her husband of more than 30 years went in for minor surgery but died later that night.
The end of the world could not have come at a more inconvenient time.
Imagine if Notre Dame lost legal ownership of its campus, and the Main Building with its Golden Dome was bulldozed to make way for the golden arches of McDonald’s.
So here you are, sitting on a bench by Notre Dame’s Main Building, trying to figure it out.
You don’t have to be an indigenous person living close to nature — or a Catholic worshipping at a grand cathedral — to be moved by sacred places.
It’s still early on a cold March morning that threatens rain, yet Rome’s Piazza Navona teems with life.