My experience of Holy Week in Jerusalem this year was marked by deep tragedy and profound compassion, tied together by . . . tattoos.
Participating in a Mass from a chapel overlooking Jerusalem during a Spring Break pilgrimage to the Holy Land, the writer remembers how Jesus wept over the city from that very same spot. The vision was both beautiful and terrifying.
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.
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.
At Notre Dame, the home of the Fighting Irish, the University’s founder, Father Edward Sorin, CSC, actually banned observance of St. Patrick’s Day.
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.
When President Donald Trump takes the rostrum next week for his first address to a joint session of Congress, will he train his rhetorical firepower on what he asserts is “the enemy of the American people”?
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.
As he assumes the presidency, will Donald Trump be able to govern the way he campaigned for the nation’s highest office? And what impact could such an approach have on the broken relationships between the legislative and executive branches that so many observers identify today?
Decades later, militarists and historians still wondered how it could have happened.
When they went to bed on election night, most Americans — even in GOP quarters — thought the outcome of 2016 was a foregone conclusion. But by the time the presidential and other electoral results became known, it was the Democrats who were left wondering what their party’s fortunes might be.
At age 70, the president-elect faces a new reality that couldn’t be more different from his decades as a developer or even his nearly 18 months as a political candidate. Showing up at the Oval Office each morning to “just see what develops,” in a phrase taken from his 1987 bestseller, The Art of the Deal, probably won’t suffice as a strategy for serving as president of the United States.
Election Day, like commencement at Notre Dame or any other school, marks both an end and a beginning. After all the votes are cast and counted, questions about the future collect like starlings in a stand of trees, noisily making themselves heard.
A correspondent ponders our new e-spresso overlords.
Being an American abroad these days provides someone with a perplexing yet recurring experience. Wherever you go, people beyond our shores want to know why the American presidential campaign is approaching its conclusion as a political popularity contest between two historically unpopular candidates.
Did Joe Biden start a trend? Since Biden’s election as the first Catholic vice president eight years ago, the Democratic and Republican parties in 2012 and this year have nominated running mates born and raised as Catholics in Irish American households.
As horse-race polls — nationally and in battleground states — tighten between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, two other numerical findings in recent days shouldn’t gallop by without our taking notice.
To understand the full meaning of the Parable of the Good Samaritan we need to understand that a parable is a story, told by Jesus, the intent of which is to get you to question your values, to question what you think, to turn your world upside down.
At the beginning of class the other day, I circulated a questionnaire for the 26 duly-enrolled Millennial Domers in my course on American Political and Media Culture. Besides wanting to know their partisan and ideological preferences, their pushing-70 teacher wanted to gauge student opinion about contemporary political figures and this year’s presidential free-for-all from the anonymous surveys.
Every four years Americans learn anew that a presidential election is less a national fencing match than an array of brass-knuckle fistfights in a few select states.
When historians write their accounts of the 2016 presidential campaign, they will be able to rely on adjectives with the prefix “un” to explain what happened during the hurly-burly nominating and general election seasons.
Now that the Republican and Democratic national conventions are history, one common denominator of the 2016 presidential campaign stands out in bold relief. Both major parties this fall will be united by high-decibel hatred of the nominee of the other party.
This election year is particularly fascinating because the primary season between February and June appeared at times to be a two-front war against the Republican and Democratic establishments. But larger and potentially more profound problems confront each party this fall and in the future.
I went to the church half an hour early to pray. The most difficult part of the afternoon was figuring out how to get inside the confessional.
I am fond of saying that the older I get the better I look in gray. The contrasts and paradoxes in the Holy Land are so obvious and remind us that a black and white world does not exist.
It’s impossible to use the past to predict the future, but electoral trends can often provide context for understanding the present. By almost any measure, 2016 should be a change election rather than one of continuity.
I never had much interest in going to the Holy Land, primarily because I thought that it would never happen. But on the Thursday after commencement I found myself with a group of pilgrims on a plane from New York to Tel Aviv. I will be eternally grateful.
Notre Dame Magazine congratulates Ted Barron on the announcement of his appointment as executive director of the DeBartolo Center for the Performing Arts. Back in 2011, when Barron was the director of the center’s popular Browning Cinema, we asked him to compile this list of his favorite films.
I awoke in South Bend on Tuesday, March 22, to the dismaying news of the terrorist attack in Belgium, sobered all the more by my calculation that one week earlier, at the same time, my five urban design students, a colleague and I were in the exact place where the two suicide bombers detonated themselves in Brussels Airport.