Monthly Archives: September 2016

Walking in Faith in the Dark

September 2016, Uncategorized, , , , ,

Erica Pereira, Senior

Last semester, I studied abroad in Santiago, Chile. A few of my friends and I had the opportunity to spend a few days backpacking in Patagonia, which is the wilderness in the southern-most part of Chile, at the end of the world. It truly felt like another planet in the great beauty we encountered there.

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The highlight of the trip and the pinnacle of beauty in Patagonia are the Torres del Paine. They are huge towers of rock that shoot up into the sky. The best time to see the Torres is at sunrise when the light from the sun rises and casts a bright orange color on the rocks. To see this once in a lifetime sight, we rolled out of our tents in the pitch black, snapped on our headlamps, and started the strenuous 45-minute hike up. No one could see particularity well, and next to us was a huge, black crevasse with depths we could only imagine in the dark. All we could see were the steps in front of us and the lights of the headlamps of the people behind us and ahead of us all in a line—all hiking to the same destination.

Our sleepiness quickly waned as the number of steps and rocks we were climbing increased. When we finally reached the top, the excitement was unbearable. It was still pitch black, but I could just barely make out the silhouette of the three giant towers. I had seen so many pictures of it before, and here it was! Right in front of me. I had never experienced such an atmosphere of exciting anticipation.

We sat down in the cold and windy weather and waited for the sun to rise. Each moment was more exciting than the next because in each passing minute we could see just a little bit more of the Torres. As more and more light came, we could see that there was a small lake in front of them—something we had no idea was there in the dark. And the true and glorious beauty of the Torres was revealed. We sat there (slightly shivering) in awe of its wonderful beauty. My friend Anna said to me that this moment was a lot like heaven. Right now on earth, we only have a glimpse of heaven like we only had a glimpse of the Torres before sunrise. But when heaven is fully revealed to us, the glory of it will be awe-inspiring. My experience at the Torres was truly a glimpse of that eternal peace and glory.

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On our hike back to the campsite, I was reminded of the saints and their headlamps walking in front of me, leading me to heaven. I could only see the present moment—the step right in front of me, but I was guided by their light. We are all walking in faith in the dark to something we cannot yet fully see. We are all headed to the same place, with the same goal.

The reality of heaven and the hope of what we cannot yet see are so present in our lives. Each day is a tiny glimpse of the eternal love that has been offered to us. It is a reality that we are called to be in awe of, and to bask in each day. Let us rest in the hope and awe of salvation in Christ.

“For this momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.”-2 Corinthians 4:17-18

Patagonia

Faith Through Transitions

September 2016, , , , ,

Emily David, Senior

Since the day I moved into South Hall at Holy Cross College in August 2013, I’ve lived in 6 cities, 4 states, 2 countries, and on 2 campuses. The past 3 years have been full of movement, transferring to ND with the first Gateway class, living in a different place every summer for an internship, spending a semester navigating the gem that is Rome, and going home to southern Indiana for the holidays and short breaks. As a senior reflecting back not just on all the places I’ve lived but also on the adventures and busyness packed in between, I can see why many of my friends and family have asked me, “Do you ever stop?”

View from the Top of Saint Peter's Basilica.

View from the top of Saint Peter’s Basilica. Rome, Italy.

The truth is, I do stop. I try to do so daily. Wherever I am. And this is part of the reason I’m able to (imperfectly) follow where the wind blows.

At Holy Cross, it was at daily Mass right before lunch. In DC, it was reflection on the metro or on the roof of my uncle’s apartment. In Texas, on walks during breaks at work, and at yoga. In Rome, at a new church almost every day. In Boston, at a chapel in the middle of a shopping-convention center. Or on a park bench. At Notre Dame, in any chapel, especially in Adoration at CoMo or kneeling in front of the tabernacle in Geddes. Or, in the Lyons chapel in the middle of late-night paper writing. And in all of these places, God answered my need for companionship with friends who accompany me in my faith.

It’s not easy: transitioning into college, into unfamiliar places and crowds in new cities, anticipating the transition into the working world, transitioning from one class to another, changing majors and adding and dropping minors, changes in relationships, living with new roommates, changes in health, and everything in between. “Do you ever stop?”

There are challenges with all of these movements, some easier than others, and I’ve learned there needs to be a constancy through it all, or else I find myself lost in the thoughts and worries I often create. A routine is helpful- for me, between Lyons, South, Debart, and CoMo- a checklist for the day’s major to-dos is helpful, a regular call home is helpful, and regular meals and honest conversations with friends about our struggles in addition to our joys are helpful to remind us that we aren’t alone.

Yet, even these things aren’t enough, especially when we’re thrown off balance, when plans fall through or are interrupted, when a 3 page paper takes 10 hours longer than expected, when we catch a cold, when it rains on game day, when we suddenly realize how unhappy we are with our major, when someone we love passes or moves away, or when family dynamics change.

Boston
Farmer’s market outside my workplace in Boston, summer 2016. Sunflowers are a reminder for me, especially in the hustle and bustle of the city, of the beauty that comes from growing toward God, just as sunflowers grow toward the sun.

I have a great need for a constant that is not of my own effort or creation, because, let’s face it- I, like most of you, am already exhausted keeping up with everything else.

My experience is illustrated by composer Chopin’s lovely “Raindrop Prelude.”

In the 6 minutes and 26 seconds of this beautiful melody, all of life is present: one moment you’re happy, then sad, some moments are more intense and uncertain, others are simpler and more peaceful. Chopin really tugs at our emotions as he expresses the human fragility and unstableness that we’ve all experienced.

If we change our focus a little bit as we listen to this piece, we can hear a single note repeated over and over again that underpins the larger melody. The most boring note in the background becomes the most interesting as we sense there is a strength that comes through the transitions. It is the heartbeat that guides the whole story.

Listening to this, I ask myself, what is my source of strength, joy and hope through my fleeting emotions and circumstances? What is the backbone and constancy through the ebb and flow, changing seasons, and all the transitions? What unifies everything in my life?

fall 2013

God, unified with the desires of the human heart, is always there.

Following where the wind blows, for me, is following the calming wind of the Holy Spirit. And I can only follow when I stop and pause to pray. To remind myself of this guidance, I integrate a simple yet powerful prayer into my days:

“My Lord and my God!”
From John 20:28- a recognition of God among us, as St. Thomas exclaimed when he put his hand into Jesus’ pierced side.

Notre Dame has further instilled in me that one’s “faith life” doesn’t have to be separate from the rest of life. I’ve discovered that my faith is the guiding backbone through every transition. I’ve discovered faith to be a relationship with God who is the heartbeat that is always there, giving meaning and deep joy -even through the difficulties- to everything.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget this simple fact when the heaviness of life rolls in as it does in Chopin’s piece. In these moments, it takes just a brief pause to pray in order to bring my focus back to what unifies the greater picture. Little by little, I become more deeply rooted in the constant heartbeat of God that guides the melody of my life.

“My Lord and my God!”

Finding God in the Everyday

September 2016, , , , ,

Kate Walsh, Senior

Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame
Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame

“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest” Matthew 11:28

If there is one thing I have come to expect as a Notre Dame student, it is an amazing summer. Despite not being able to see the golden dome on a daily basis, or being deprived of make-your-own-pizza-night at South, I can count on Notre Dame to provide for me in different ways during the summers. But this past summer, my final summer before becoming an alumna of this wonderful University (God willing!) was different. It was not, by my quite high standards, amazing.

My tasks this summer were to take the MCAT. Complete the primary med school application. Drive almost an hour to and from a lab for my unpaid internship. Work on med school secondaries. Repeat.

While I am still grateful for the opportunities I had this summer, and I feel extremely lucky to have worked in a lab near my home and apply to medical school, my overall experience was not as life-changing or fulfilling as say the summer I spent working at my SSLP, or being a small group mentor at Notre Dame Vision. Rather, the daily routine wore me down. Commuting filled me with frustration. As one would probably guess, retelling my greatest challenge and what I learned from it on ten different med school applications exhausted me. And most importantly, I fell out of touch with God. I was so used to the accessibility of Mass and chapels on campus that without them, I was praying much less. But even though I was putting Him to the side, God didn’t forget about me this summer, and one way He showed me was through daily Mass.

If I wanted to, I could have gone to daily Mass at my parish most mornings before making the commute to the lab. Unfortunately, because I typically wanted more sleep, I regretfully didn’t go very often. But one morning I pulled it together and went to 8 a.m. Mass. When I got there, I followed the lead of the almost exclusively elderly congregation and picked my own pew. To begin Mass, the priest started with the Prayer to St. Anne, which alerted me to the fact that it was Novena week. Before I could debate whether it was worth it to take the long walk back to the door to pick up a booklet of prayers, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and a married couple behind me offered me one of their books. It happened so fast that it was nearly a reflex for them, and though my first instinct was to feel embarrassed, I quickly remembered that this was no place to feel self-conscious, so I expressed my gratitude instead, and then was able to recite the prayers that followed in unison with the congregation. That morning, I got to receive Jesus Christ in the Eucharist before I headed off to work. My day was centered on God. My commute was less frustrating, as I thought more about the people inside the cars than the traffic jams produced by the cars themselves. Later in the day, as I was pipetting cells and spreading them on a petri dish, I finally remembered that God really is in all the work we do as long as we do it with Him in mind. After attending just one daily Mass, my day turned out radically different, and it was because God filled me with His Grace after I started my day with Him.

(Photo by Matt Cashore/University of Notre Dame)
Matt Cashore/University of Notre Dame

After that lovely day, I definitely didn’t make a perfect attendance record at my parish’s morning Mass, but the monotonous, tiring days were more bearable with a heart full of gratitude. I focused more on God and prayer and decided to try something new which was to read more spiritual texts. I think God used this summer to challenge me to mature in my faith, since we both know that I only have one year remaining at the University of Our Lady of the Lake. Still, with school starting back up, I am reminded of how challenging and monotonous the days here can be too. I love Notre Dame, and I am thrilled to be back, but I know football season will end and winter will come, bringing with it projects, exams, and stress.

It is possible that you might already feel overwhelmed or in a rut. If so, I urge you to find your own way to spend time, on a daily basis, with God. We are so lucky to have access to incredible opportunities for growing in faith here at Notre Dame, and God wants us to include Him in all that we do. Whether it is attending daily Mass, finding time to light a candle at the Grotto, going for a nature walk with a friend, or reading a book and praying and reflecting on it, there is something you can do every day, alone or with community, to maintain your relationship with God. I promise you there is enough time, and I know that God will bless your busy-ness with His presence. If this summer taught me anything it’s that it’s a lot easier to find God if you give yourself a chance to look.

 

Falling In Love

September 2016, ,

John Lee, Senior

During my freshman year at Notre Dame, I knew exactly what I would be doing after graduation. I had my entire life figured out. Looking back, it’s curious to see that the farther away I was from graduating, the surer I had been about what I would do afterwards. And now, as a senior, the closer I am to graduating (knock on wood), the more uncertain I have become. Go figure.

Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame
Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame

Let me give you a glimpse of what my time at Notre Dame looked like, and the rollercoaster of a ride I gave my academic advisor during these years. I entered as a Psychology/ Pre-Med student, dropped Psychology, picked up Political Science, dropped Pre-Med, picked up Philosophy as a minor, picked up Italian as a supplementary major (because, why not?), picked up Theology as a minor, raised Theology to a major, was irked that Political Science did not have a minor, dropped Italian as a supplementary major, was accepted to the Hesburgh Program in Public Service minor, dropped Theology back to a minor, raised Philosophy to a major, dropped Theology all together, and dropped the Hesburgh Program to finally be the Philosophy and Political Science double major that I am today.

Amidst the craze of what could accurately be called my academic shopping splurge at Notre Dame, dreams of my future came and went, rose and fell like the tides of an ocean. I had set my sights on going to medical school, becoming a neurosurgeon, and discovering the cure for Alzheimer’s; going to graduate school for International Relations, joining the Foreign Services, unraveling the enigma that is North Korea, and becoming the next Secretary General of the United Nations; working in public policy, serving as the Chief-of-Staff to a future President of the United States, and being elected Speaker of the House; earning my Ph.D., and teaching philosophy to students at a small Catholic university.

The list goes on, but one can only change one’s major so many times before worrying one’s parents to death… And now that the day of reckoning draws near, I have never been more unsure of what the next step in my life should be. Sure, I can convince everyone I have my life in order with the elevator pitch I’ve memorized over the years. But that pitch is more to reassure myself I have my life figured out so I don’t lose my cool. Because frighteningly enough, this next step seems like it will largely determine the course of the rest of my life. And if that isn’t a daunting thought, then I’ve never had one.

“What if I apply to the wrong job, or accept the wrong offer?” Or perhaps: “What if I don’t get hired, or get accepted to the law school or the graduate school of my dreams?” Or even more seriously, “After all this time and energy, what if medical school just isn’t for me?” Or: “What if he or she isn’t the one?”

With all of these doubts and uncertainties swirling around in my head like a tornado, I was thrown into a bout of anxiety and despair. “What am I doing with my life? What am I going to do?”

Sometimes, I just want to let go, give up, and run off into the sunset, escaping this stressful world and eloping with destiny.

And it is at these moments that I feel the most with Frodo Baggins of the Shire who, in his own despair on his perilous quest to destroy the Ring, found himself saying, “I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.”

I especially feel this way when I occasionally catch myself day-dreaming about life on a farm 300 years ago. I picture myself rising from bed with the sun, breathing in the crisp and refreshing morning air, working the land with nothing but fresh soil between my toes, and drinking the ice cold water from the chortling creek nearby. I dream of watching the radiant sunset dip between the great sycamore trees and behind the grand mountain range beyond after a hard day’s work, and laying under a black tapestry of stars shimmering with songs and stories of heroes and monsters weaved meticulously into the fabric of the night by the ever-flowing fingers of Time.

And sometimes, I daydream of being a dog, and having absolutely nothing on my mind except Kibbles, good belly rubs, and the consistency of squirrel droppings at the park. The unexamined life is a life free of stress and obstacles.

But even in this despair of wishing none of these things had happened in life, Gandalf reassures Frodo: “So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we must decide is what to do with the time that is given us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, in which case you were also meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought.”

It truly is an encouraging thought to know that we are meant to be where we are now, and that every step we take forward is essential to the grand scheme. But the path to our final destination, is it right or left? Corporate finance or management consulting? Medical school or service work? To Orgo, or not to Orgo?

April 11, 2012; Sacred Heart Jesus statue and tulips in Main "God" Quad. Photo by Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame
Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame

Whenever I begin to drown in these potential scenarios or “would have, could have, should haves,” I am reminded of a simple yet beautiful prayer by Jesuit priest, Fr. Pedro Arrupe:

“Nothing is more practical than finding God,
than falling in Love in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends,
what you read, whom you know, what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in Love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”

The great secret to our vocation lies in what we secretly love greatly. So to all my fellow anxious and despairing Domers out there: fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.