I'm told it's Fathers' Day. Nobody ever remembers me or my fellow CSCs on Fathers' Day. Yet nobody calls their patrilineal progenitor Father any longer. You only call us Father. But I've gotten over that...the BVM told me to. Those of us whom you still call Father bust our humps as chaplains both in your dorms and on the battlefield (sometimes there's very little difference). But let me assure you that, though we may not have children of our own, the loss of a son or daughter at college or in ...
Good Fridays w/Padre: Bloom & Grow
For many years, there were two ancient Magnolias at the foot of the steps to the Main Building. They were beautiful, especially at this time of year when they bloomed. One of the Magnolias passed on. I don't know where trees go when they die, but I hope it's a fabulous place. There is a giant Sycamore by the Grotto. It, too, has been growing and thriving there for many, many years. I will mourn when that glorious creature of God passes, because it's beauty has given so much joy and hope to so ...
Good Fridays w/Padre: Break-Its
So much excitement at this time of year about the Grand Tournament! Especially this year since our team is, indeed, so grand! Yet, I am always disturbed by the fixation with these so-called “Brackets.” In that they are gambling, I remind you all that this is illegal – unless you’re an Alum in the stock market who makes lots of money and donates most to the University. In that case, gamble away. In another regard, these brackets somehow seek to make an academic science out of what is merely ...
Padre on Padre
I am not one to give up a lot of credit. But Ted deserved it. What a man, what a national figure, what a priest! And I'm quite sure that the last title was closest to his heart. Theodore Martin Hesburgh was, first and foremost, a great priest. He loved the Sacraments and administered them with great care. He also loved Notre Dame. I set the place up, but Ted advanced us in a way no man ever had. Ted was smart, and gentle, and holy. It will be a century before we see a man of his stature ...
Good Fridays w/Padre: Bad Ideas
Like the icicle that starts to form at the corner of the roof, it slowly grows until it’s a heavy, sharp, pointed thing that will impale you without warning. It was fascinating to behold at one time, but it became a lethal sculpture that plunged through the window and left your room cold and wet. This icicle is a metaphor for a Very Bad Idea, and many of them are forming at this time of year. Not surprising that an athletic conference, the source and summit of bad ideas, is the water ...
Good Fridays w/Padre: Beating the Conundrums
It’s an upside down world lately. I feel like Ferdinand and Isabella when Columbus came back. I mean I feel bewildered, not greedy and despotic. If I wanted a comparison for greedy and despotic, I’d use ESPN. I am bewildered at the odd inversions and reversals of these times. The football team had a mediocre season, while the basketball team is in the top ten. The Joyce Center picks up its 600th victory, while the Stadium ended the season with two wrenching losses. The Stadium is becoming ...
Good Fridays w/Padre: Era’s End
So the Freemasons have won. Or the Illuminati, Rosicrucians, Elders of the Priory of Sion – let’s just call them the E-lders of the S-ion P-riory freemasoNs. They and their Rodent Overlord enjoy a complete victory; they have taken over college football and forced the creation of the playoff system that they have long wanted, and will long broadcast, for lots of money. I mourn the passing of an era. Gone are the days when the leading teams from regional affiliations of colleges would compete ...
Good Fridays w/Padre: A Tale of Two Teams
It was the best of seasons, it was the worst of seasons; it was a game of touchdowns, it was a game of turnovers; it was the inspiration for belief, it was the cause of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the autumn of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had a playoff berth before us, we had a second-tier bowl before us; we were in Heaven on earth, we were in a cold, wet Stadium of defeat. Since 1887, we’ve had worse seasons, but few as ...
Good Fridays w/Padre: As Always
Like the swallows returning to the Mission of San Juan Capistrano, my loyal sons and daughters are flying back to Notre Dame, their mother. Of course, the students aren’t birds, they don't have feathers, and can’t really fly. So maybe that was a bad simile. Like salmon swimming against the current to return home, my loyal sons and daughters are coming back to the place of their spiritual and educational birth. Wait…NO NO NO – the salmon do that to spawn. There is absolutely no spawning at ...
Good Fridays w/Padre: Childs’ Play
I am hailed as the Founder of Notre Dame; also the first Postmaster (go figure). These are great honorifics of which I am proud. But the title closest to my heart has always been Father. I consider all of you to be my loyal sons – and thanks to Ted’s innovations, loyal daughters. Indeed, you are all my children. I’m told there was a beautiful opera by that title, though I don’t recall it in Verdi’s or Wagner’s repertoire. However, though I am called Father, I have never had children of ...