Was Brian Doyle ’78 the most passionate Catholic writer in America?
Is it too much to say that everything you have ever lived and done and tried, whether you succeeded or failed, has purpose and meaning in your life?
How is it that a teenage girl, a country miss, was chosen to flank St. Michael the Archangel above the Memorial Door to the Basilica of the Sacred Heart?
The not-so-normal early years of Theodore Martin Hesburgh, in honor of his 100th birthday.
It began in the stillness of night, an hour before dawn. Illuminated by only a few flecks of starlight, the Mount of Olives and its surrounding villages had merged into a sea of darkness under the tranquil night sky.
My experience of Holy Week in Jerusalem this year was marked by deep tragedy and profound compassion, tied together by . . . tattoos.
I have an ongoing email exchange with a doctor in Pittsburgh whom I’ve never met. Every once in a while, out of the blue, I receive a thank-you note from Kurt Weiss ’97.
Today should be different. Such were the author’s sentiments on a Good Friday long ago in Seattle, Washington.
Frank, my brother-in-law, works in the emergency room of a medical center in Arkansas. About twice a year our families get together for the holidays. We catch up on news, share meals and hear how Frank comes to terms with carnage.
‘About the time my son went into Gaza as a soldier with the Israeli Defense forces, I started learning to play Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” which expresses in music my own longing to give my heart to God.’
Father Bob Pelton went to Latin America to serve the people there, but he didn’t envision his work for social justice would put his life in danger — as subversive to government efforts there, and here.
When Father Scully launched ACE to send college grads to serve and teach in Catholic schools with designated needs, he wasn’t expecting this.
A trip on the Atchafalaya Swamp prompted this prescription for living the good life.
The landscape of sexual orientation and of gender identity is changing faster than a three-year-old falls asleep at a Sunday homily. While the Church does not have to jump on every bandwagon that passes by, it must listen to and read the signs of the times.
Some years ago I decided that I would invite 10 students to my room in Dillon Hall one random evening. I blind copied all of them so no one knew who else was coming. I told them I would be serving pizza. And everyone would have an opportunity to tell the story of how they came to Notre Dame.
Junior Parents Weekend didn’t even cross the author’s radar until he received an email from his son in late October. “He was in Dublin for the fall semester, and our communications with him were typically erratic and brief, so the fact he mentioned it at all gave us a clue: This was important.”
Today, the art of letter writing has been largely lost. One can, of course, fairly ask: Who needs to write letters anymore, with the advent of email, text messaging and Facebook? Well, two young women writers — Amy Andrews and Jessica Mesman Griffith — discovered the need or, rather, the spiritual need to do so.
Let me tell you a story. It should sound familiar. It’s about a local judge who is supposed to decide a complicated insurance case.
Before moving into his rental house in Seattle last year, Ben Wooley felt he needed to give his future housemates a warning. “Just so you know,” he told them, “I have a lot of instruments, and not all of them are going to fit in my room.”
Tomorrow a new president will be inaugurated. And we will have to support him as much as we are able. What common ground can we find?
Revolutions begin with the quiet decision and the small act. So picture this scene of would-be rebellion.
In 1720, Johann Sebastian Bach, 35 years old and still making a name for himself, still ascending to the heights of his powers as a composer, paid a visit to one of his heroes.
I was delighted to learn that the Holy Father is asking the Missionaries of Mercy to continue their “extraordinary ministry” until further notice, “as a concrete sign that the grace of the Jubilee remains alive and effective the world over.”
Try to pin Greg Bahnsen down and you may need to wait a while. When he isn’t casting metal and fashioning it into pipes at Paul Fritts’ organ workshop, he’s often thousands of feet up in the air.
Rev. James J. McGrath, CSC, ’55, whose campus contributions included key roles in the construction of the Galvin Life Science Center and the sandy beach at St. Joseph Lake, died October 24 at age 84.
McGrath, professor emeritus of biology, taught numerous botany courses and also served as a dorm rector, chaplain of the Notre Dame Fire Department and as a parish priest in Dowagiac, Michigan.…
A new organ adds another jewel to the Sacred Music program.
The Murdy Family Organ, a grand creation from the renowned Fritts workshop, is installed in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart.
Three stories, three lives, three doorways into a world you may not have given much thought to.
A long time ago in a research and development laboratory far, far away, Raphi Giangiulio made a little piece of cinematic history.
On the night before Christmas, when I was little, the very air would be teeming with excitation. The world felt wondrous and magical and alive in anticipation of the unbelievable making a real-life visit.