Under the Dome

For much of my years, going to Notre Dame had been the ultimate goal in my life. In a column I wrote in this newspaper my freshman year, I compared my dream of attending Notre Dame to Jay Gatsby’s dream of reaching the green light on Daisy’s dock in “The Great Gatsby.” The Golden Dome, which I first set eyes on in eighth grade on a visit with my family, seemed to represent all that I had ever wanted and could become. As a prospective student, I would look across the lake at the light of the Dome, stretching out my arm at my dream as though I could hardly fail to grasp it. 

I asked myself what would happen when I finally reached that light, grasping what Gatsby could not. I decided then that even once I got to Notre Dame I never could never fully reach that goal I had been striving for, that I would always be searching and grasping for more. What had been most important was the transformational effect which working toward my goal had had on me.

During my time here, this challenge of the climb has defined how I have lived my life. It has been a flurry of activity, one challenge after another, success and joy, failure and defeat. I remain as thankful as I was then for the positive effect which chasing a dream had on me. At the end of it all, however, I wish I had understood what Gatsby failed to. That the dream was not in front of him, but “that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.”

There is a time for activity. There is a time for ambition. There is also a time to take stock of what you have. To not rush toward the Dome grasping for what is beyond it, but to pause for a moment, to sit under its light and marvel at it and to give thanks to the God who inspired it. Sometimes the answer is not an advancement, but a return, a rest and a sense of peace. 

During the past few weeks, I’ve been trying more and more to do that and to rest under the light of the Dome. I feel most of all a sense of gratitude. First, for my family for making it possible for me to come here, for introducing me to this wonderful place, for supporting me and allowing me to succeed while here. I am grateful for the friendships I have made, the incredible people who have laughed with me, toiled with me, challenged me, and, I hope, changed me for the better. I’m grateful for the amazing professors I’ve had, the great books I’ve read and for the Sunday homilies which always brought me back to what mattered.

Above all, I thank God for the opportunity to come here. For refusing to allow me to give in to despair, even when I failed, but instead to look at the Dome, pick myself up and live with hope. Whether I am sitting under the Dome or leaving it behind in the rolling fields of the republic, I know that that ultimate hope can never fail to be grasped. That dream, unlike all the others, is always present, always within reach and always delivers.