Skip to Content, Navigation, or Footer.
The Observer
Saturday, April 4, 2026
Support The Observer
Observer Store Subscribe
The Observer

Opinion

The Observer

A Gameday Reflection

By The Observer · Wednesday, Oct. 10, 2012

I had a dream that one day, Notre Dame would return to the pinnacle of the college football universe. I had a dream that one day, Notre Dame's football prowess and the friendly confines of South Bend, Indiana would tickle the fancies of whoever plans "College GameDay," and they would return to these hallowed, tradition-rich grounds. I had a dream that one day, "College GameDay" would be unable to deny the allure of placing their show in the space between the glorious Notre Dame Stadium and the mosaic arms of Jesus that pierce the sky towards the clouds as they signal the repeated inevitability during of a Notre Dame touchdown. I had a dream that when "GameDay" cast its wide-angle lens towards the Hesburgh Library, it captured the effulgent reflection pool in all of its glory. I had a dream that this reflection pool would be full of every kind of outrageous flotation device that has ever been created, and that the occupants of these devices would still be filled with what one Notre Dame alumnus termed as "liquid courage." That dream has come true this Saturday. Three years ago, two sophomores and three juniors started the most recent Notre Dame tradition, the Gameday Reflection. Students and fans have floated for every home game since then, cheering on the band and Irish Guard as they march in front of the library and over to Stonehenge. Meet us at the pool (the band marches at 9:30 a.m. but come early), wearing the most ridiculous clothing you have, dragging any flotation device you can find and toting your cheering voice. As Dickie V would say, "We're gonna be on TV, baby!" When this happens, when we allow ourselves to be immersed in the most recent Notre Dame tradition, when we forget the pounding headaches from the night before and start our gameday mornings like real Notre Dame men and women, when our unwavering support for what matters the most in life reverberates through the halls of our buildings, the ears of our players and the hearts of our fans, we will truly signal to the world that one thing is for certain in an increasingly uncertain world: Notre Dame football is back! P.S. For updates and answers to your questions, join the "A Gameday Reflection" group on Facebook. Marko Pesce alumnus Class of 2012 Raymond Gallagher alumnus Class of 2012 Alex Korenstra alumnus Class of 2012 Michael Lucente junior O'Neill Hall Bobby Weltner junior St. Edward's Hall Chris Mertens senior Keenan Hall Matt Brown alumnus Class of 2011 Billy Shields alumnus Class of 2011 Jake Marmul alumnus Class of 2011 Jamie Koepsel alumnus Class of 2011 Chase Riddle alumnus Class of 2012 Stephen Schwaner senior Keenan Hall

The Observer

A new year's transformation

By The Observer · Wednesday, Oct. 10, 2012

Have you ever walked down the quad or through a hallway to a classroom and wondered, "Can't they tell?" Have you ever felt so changed, so transformed inside that you're shocked to realize it isn't written all over your face? Maybe you just heard that your sister and brother-in-law are going to have a baby or you were accepted into grad school, and you think, "How can this stunningly awesome turn of events not be completely obvious to everyone around me?"   Sadly, we also sometimes feel this in a moment of pain or sadness after a tragedy like the death of a close friend or family member. My niece recently wrote about the death of her cousin, "The world continued as if it hadn't just lost one of the really special people, one of the people who doesn't come along very often. I wanted to scream at my teachers that piece-wise functions and ionic bonds didn't matter when Bjorn was gone. Who cares about the proper use of commas when Bjorn is gone?" We marvel that the world - or at least that person who just said hello to us - can't immediately see that our insides have just been put through a cross-cut shredder. Other times we can't keep the tears from streaming down our face or wipe off the big dopey grin that insists on returning no matter how hard we try to control it, thereby revealing our inner selves for all to see.   Beginning today, you are officially invited to a time of transformation.  Not of your outside appearance (a plethora of over-the-counter grooming products can take care of that just fine), but of your heart. The One who loves you more completely and intimately than anyone in the world invites you. Through the Church all over the world, and right here at Notre Dame through Campus Ministry, God asks you - dares you - to open up this year to a new commitment to who you are on the inside. Today, Oct. 11, begins an official "Year of Faith" for Catholic Christians worldwide. Starting today, the 50th anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican Council, be bold enough to take on the challenge to venture deeper into your faith. Listen more carefully to God's voice in your life, act on what you hear, discover who you are and what you believe in, explore the questions and uncertainties you've felt about your beliefs, engage your heart as you seek answers and experience a fuller sense of God's constant presence in every moment of every day. At Notre Dame, we know how to go big. We can do big football weekends - hey, we can even do "College GameDay." We can do big stress at mid-terms and finals. We can do big parties for JPW and Commencement, big Masses for Frosh-O and Baccalaureate. We can do big trips to Dublin and Chicago, to Montreal, Washington, D.C., and Appalachia. So in Campus Ministry when we first heard about the Year of Faith, we thought, "We'll go big! Big events! Big excitement! Big opportunities to transform our faith lives!" Funny enough though, for this Year of Faith we decided we'd like to invite you to go small. We've planned a year of ways to focus on our faith that's, well, full of the small stuff - because sometimes small stuff sticks better than big. Just like a tiny piece of lint will cling to your sweater with ferocious determination even while that big water bottle can't seem to stop falling out of your backpack, we in Campus Ministry hope that you'll try some tiny but mighty things each month of the coming year. These tasks are small enough that you can stick with them and mighty enough to become habits that will stick with you over the long haul. Whether it will be obvious by looking at you or not, you have a new year's opportunity to know, love and serve God more deeply - to become transformed, to start a revolution in your own heart and mind, to go big by going small. Visit our website at campusministry.nd.edu and click on "Year of Faith" to find out more. Katharine Barrett is the director of the Emmaus program at Campus Ministry. She can be reached at kbarrett@nd.edu The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

The Observer

It's sign time

By The Observer · Wednesday, Oct. 10, 2012

I don't know if you've heard, but "College GameDay" is coming to campus for the epic battle of the college teams whose mascots' names don't end in 's.' Or, "the battle for being 's'-less," if you will. Now there's no need to speculate about who Lee Corso is going to pick, because it's obvious. He will be sporting a green hat, carrying a shillelagh and doing his best Irish jig. So don't waste your precious time on that. Check. As for midterms this week, they are unimportant and suck the creativity out of your minds (trust me, you will need the creativity this week). So you should also not waste your time studying for or fretting over those. Check. The most, absolutely most important thing this week, with the arrival of "College GameDay," is the signs. When people watch "College GameDay," they do not care what Kirk, Lee, Desmond and Chris say. Yes, Corso's tradition of picking a school is awesome, but his selection is second in awesomeness to the plethora of provocative signs parading around in the background. Fans have been watching ESPN all week. They've heard all of the predictions and opinions about the game - nothing new will be said. The viewers care what the signs say. Or maybe that's just me. It is your one shot, your one opportunity, to show the world what you can do with a bit of bawdiness, a poster board and a handful of Magic Markers. The whole world will be watching what a bunch of crazy college kids can come up with. We need to rise to this tremendous occasion and show the world that we can combine arts and crafts with cleverness better than any other school out there. There are always the usual signs that go for the cheap laugh, but then there are those that go down in sign lore. We need to aim for lore-status. When another college gets "GameDay" and the students go to Google looking for funny ideas, the whole first page should be completely covered with our signs. Imagine the world is Bluto from the movie "Animal House" (I know, kind of a scary thought, but stay with me) and imagine we are Otter. Bluto has just challenged us to fulfill our potential, so what should our response be? It should be: "We have to go all out. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody's part. And we are just the guys to do it."     So let's do it. Let's go all out and make the greatest, most memorable signs ever. Right now. Seriously, stop reading and start sign making. GO!   Contact Isaac Lorton at ilorton@nd.edu The views expressed in the Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

The Observer

National Coming Out Day

By The Observer · Wednesday, Oct. 10, 2012

AllianceND is the proposed student-run Gay Straight Alliance (GSA), which would serve to educate and foster understanding on campus concerning LGBT issues. The goal of the group is not only to provide a safe space to LGBT students and their allies, but also to reach out to the campus at large and encourage a safe climate. We believe that the recognition of a formal GSA on campus is vital to providing adequate resources for LGBT members of the Notre Dame family. Currently, LGBT issues are handled exclusively through a limited-access board (the Core Council). Although this board allows for the representation of LGBT student interests to University administrators, it is not open to members of the campus community at large (non-member LGBT students and staff as well as allies). Today is National Coming Out Day.  Historically, National Coming Out Day was founded to encourage acceptance of one's identity, as well as to raise awareness about the struggles the LGBT community still faces today. The Notre Dame LGBT community certainly remains in this struggle. Current structures and the general campus climate both continue to discourage students from coming out. AllianceND itself has come out time and time again over the past two decades, fighting for the right to exist. Today, we write to you all encouraging you to come out in support of our struggle to improve campus climate, and ask administrators of this campus to come out with substantial plans for doing so. For those freshmen, sophomore, junior, senior, or grad students who are not sure if Notre Dame is ready for the greatness you have to offer, we promise that there are people on this campus who will love you for exactly who you are. AllianceND will always welcome you. KobenaAmpofo senior off campus Mia Lillis junior Cavanaugh Hall Carl Brinker senior off campus Alex Coccia junior Siegfried Hall Karl Abad senior St. Edward's Hall Maggie Waickman sophomore Howard Hall Patrick Ntwari freshman Keough Hall Colleen Hancuch sophomore Howard Hall Lauren Morisseau sophomore Breen-Phillips Hall Zoe Jimenez junior Breen-Phillips Hall Tom Lienhoop junior Dillon Hall Maggie Miller sophomore Pasquerilla East Caitlin Zeiler sophomore Welsh Family Hall

The Observer

Taste the victory

By The Observer · Monday, Oct. 8, 2012

In more than two years as a resident of Breen-PhillipsHall, I've found there are a few of things that we Babes can always count on. Firstly, we know that we will never feel neglected by @NDdormjokes. Secondly, we never need to search too far to find a source of snacks. And thirdly, our flag-football team has been and always will be bad. How bad? Cal Tech basketball level bad.  But while I never thought I would see such a thing, the impossible happened on Oct. 2, 2012: BP won a football game. We only had 10 girls playing. We had no time to warm-up and no practice since we'd been mercy-ruled the previous Sunday. Half of our coaches were stuck in class or exams, and half of us were playing defense for the first time. But none of that mattered, and as we closed out a 20-18 win over Lyons, we all ran half-mad to embrace on the sideline as if such an event had never before occurred. Of course, as far as we were concerned, this was a first. I do know that we were completely shutout in my freshman campaign - in four games, we didn't manage so much as a safety - and last season we played in pinnies that had "No Mercy (Rule)" written across the back. Lest anyone think I'm blaming my teammates for our failures over the years, I assure you that I hold more than my fair share of the blame. I'm no good at pulling flags, I'm too slow to make a good running back and as an offensive lineman I probably spent more time impeding the progress of my teammates than I did protecting the quarterback. If I wasn't the most penalized player in the league last year, then I must have been awfully close. Let's put it this way: There was a reason why no one questioned the appropriateness of my coaches bestowing me with the "Dr. Jekyll and You Better Hyde Award for Most Aggressive Pass Blocking." And that's why it felt so good to finally, finally come out on top in a Recsports contest. As competitive as I am, I'm not sure I've ever entertained the thought of playing in the title game in the stadium. For those of you who have the luxury of setting your sights that high, a close Tuesday night win behind Stepan Center probably won't be one of the most memorable moments of your college years (ditto for those of you who actually have their priorities straight and devote more energy to chemistry class than interhall sports.) But for people like me - people who care way too much but don't see the payoff that often - this was special. BP is 1-14 since I arrived on campus, and I wasn't happy to lose any of those games. But it's those 14 defeats that made the one victory feel so good.Well, that and the celebratory froyo.  

The Observer

Ministry of magic

By The Observer · Monday, Oct. 8, 2012

I really loved magic when I was little. I wore the same wizard costume every year for Halloween, asked for magicians to perform at my birthday parties and made sure to record all five parts of the two-hour-long specials of "World's Greatest Magic." The great majority of my time, however, was spent performing magic tricks. I would buy all sorts of illusions: trick decks, vanishing pennies, magic coloring books and the like. I would then rush home to perform the tricks for the only audience I had - my brothers.

The Observer

The real war on women

By The Observer · Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012

This week is Respect Life Week here at Notre Dame. Some of you may think this week brings out the best in Notre Dame students by allowing us to stand together and make a strong statement supporting the rights of all human beings to live long and happy lives. Others believe it brings out the worst in us, with the rows of crosses that line South Quad pointing a hateful and accusatory finger at any woman who steps on our campus who has found herself in the difficult situation of considering abortion. Whatever your views about abortion and Respect Life Week, I hope we can all agree on the topic about which I am writing today: sex-selective abortion. Sex-selective abortion is exactly what it sounds like: aborting a baby because the parents desire a child of a different sex. It is most common in Asian countries, particularly India and China, where the ratio of males to females at birth was as high as 1.2 to 1 in some parts of India and most of China (according to the Indian census and various U.N. population statistics in 2010). Although sex-selective abortion is far less common in the United States, it is not unheard of - especially among communities of immigrants who come from nations where sex-selective abortion is widely practiced. The U.S. House of Representatives recently rejected a bill that would make knowingly participating in a sex-selective abortion a federal offense punishable by up to five years in prison. While I think the maximum penalty might seem excessive to those who do not believe that abortion is the killing of a human person, I believe that everyone, including those who would permit abortion in most cases, should support some kind of ban on sex-selective abortions in the United States. I will now offer three reasons why I hold this position. First, sex-selective abortion demeans the worth and dignity of women. Second, it is often a symptom of a broader culture of abuse and coercion of women that must be brought to light. Third, banning sex-selective abortion would allow the U.S. to exercise moral and practical leadership on an issue that will have drastic consequences for the futures of many nations. Regarding offenses against women's dignity: I am not a woman, but if I were, I would find it profoundly insulting that people seek medical procedures to allow them to have sons instead of daughters. This practice goes beyond sex-selective abortions to in-vitro fertilization, where parents can use some of the latest technologies and techniques to control the sex of the embryos they implant. Womanhood is not a genetic disorder to be eliminated through abortion, nor is it an undesirable trait that we should reject when building the perfect "designer" baby. Women are half of humanity. Some would even say they are the better half. Let's keep it that way. It should not surprise anyone, then, that in many cases, the women who undergo sex-selective abortions do not do so of their own free will. The father, under cultural pressure to produce sons in order to appear "virile" and "manly," might convince or even compel the mother to abort a female fetus so he can try for a son next time. In this way, men who disdain womanhood impose their warped value system on their own wives by preventing them from bearing female children. It's difficult for me to think of a more tragic example of male oppression of women. Allowing the authorities to investigate cases of sex-selective abortion could help put an end to this form of coercion and also bring to light related offenses like domestic violence. Finally, banning sex-selective abortion in the United States would give the U.S. a chance to speak out against the rampant overuse of the practice in other countries. A Congressional report on China said recently that the Chinese could have as many as 40 million "surplus males" by 2020. These men will never get the chance to marry or have children and may lead "lost and lonely" lives, according to Washington Post reporter Mary Curtis. Sources in China say the rate of sex-selective abortion is increasing as more families become wealthy enough to afford abortions. In fact, more sex-selective abortions are taking place throughout the entire developing world for this same reason. The U.S. must take a stand against this practice that threatens the happiness of men and the dignity and safety of women around the world. We can start by banning it at home. Elliott Pearce can be reached at Elliott.A.Pearce.12@nd.edu The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

The Observer

Chicago state of mind

By The Observer · Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012

Growing up on Long Island, there was never any doubt in my mind that New York City was the greatest city in the country. It has everything an individual could possibly expect from a city - from amazing restaurants and shopping areas to diehard sport traditions, and, of course, ridiculously high prices. I remember visiting Boston and Philadelphia in middle school and feeling superior to all the residents because my city was larger and more cosmopolitan than their cities. To be honest, I never really even spent that much time in New York City, even though I only live about thirty minutes away from Manhattan. I'm more of an outdoors person and crowds overwhelm me, so New York's tightly packed buildings and busy streets are not exactly up my alley. But once I came to Notre Dame, I acted as if New York City was my second home. I enjoyed telling people I was from New York because I automatically assumed that unless they were from Paris or Sydney, my hometown was probably more entertaining than theirs. Even with the wealth of Notre Dame students from the Chicago area, it never occurred to me that Chicago might rival New York. Maybe San Francisco or Washington, D.C., but never a random city in the middle of the Midwest. But over the past few years, I've visited Chicago several times, and each time I leave liking the city more and more. Yes, it's smaller than New York, but that only makes it easier to navigate. Prices, while still high, are much lower than New York's, and Chicago natives are almost as infatuated with their athletic teams as Notre Dame students are with our football team. The city is cleaner overall, and Lake Michigan offers a nicer view than New York Harbor. I always assumed that if I lived in a city after graduation it would be New York, but as I think about post-Notre Dame life more frequently, I think I might rather spend a few years as a young professional in Chicago. This past weekend only cemented those feelings. Chicago and its inhabitants welcomed Notre Dame students and fans alike with open arms, and I can't think of a better weekend I've had in several months. The bars were lively, the food was tasty and the Notre Dame network was huge and comforting. Even though I'll always be a New Yorker at heart, I'm starting to think a Chicago state of mind might be just what I need to start my life after Notre Dame. Contact Mel Flanagan at mflanag3@nd.edu The views expressed in the Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.  

The Observer

Harmony and discord

By The Observer · Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012

"Silent night, holy night ... Dr. Martin Luther King says he does not intend to cancel plans for an open housing march Sunday into the Chicago suburb of Cicero ... Police in Cicero said they would ask the National Guard be called out if it is held ... Round yon virgin mother and child ... In Washington, the atmosphere was tense today as a special sub-committee of the House Committee on Un-American Activities continued its probe into anti-Vietnam war protest ... Sleep in heavenly peace." Such is the chilling and poignant juxtaposition of the Aug. 3, 1966, 7:00 news and the simple carol, "Silent Night," produced by Simon and Garfunkel. Such is the dichotomous view of the world they present. It is a view of the world with a surface theme of harmony, but the undertone of conflict. Saul Alinsky says that if all of human history could be incorporated into a singular musical score, it would be one of discord. This song, while unifying disparate themes, is wrought with division and strife. As part of a story of an era in American history, the subtext is prejudice. It is a view of the world in which humans come together to praise what is sacred while underneath the ineffable is the mental, physical and emotional clash of these human beings. It contrasts the celebration of a single human life with the consecration of the view of human beings as objects and as means. The irony surrounding this juxtaposition is that it is the reality of our existence. James Carroll writes, "I claim an identity that limits me. Yet equally it gives me a place to stand." Here, Carroll identifies the present balance: standing tall in our self-identity while not letting our height block that invaluable vision of others, not letting our vision of the sacred block our engagement with those around us. Recognizing this reality can lead to either a defeatist and apocalyptic attitude or a call to action. Unfortunately, there is certainly no definitive answer to change this reality. Indeed, the process throughout human history has been one of success and failure, where conflict has been the perceived means to peace, where the resolution of one conflict plants the seeds of another and where human beings are both the ends, and the means to a perceived greater end. There are few road maps and limited signs. There is only direction. Yet, in the midst of all of this mixture of harmony and discord, our mission is to fully engage with the world and its problems, meaning that we engage further with each other in the complete understanding that this engagement will inevitably create more conflict. Yet, we do not shy away; we simply approach our interactions with a more pure vision of the world as it is. We must start with this reality of the world - our limitations and our foundations and the sinuous curve of harmony and discord. However, as Alinsky notes, "that we accept the world as it is does not in any sense weaken our desire to change it into what we believe it should be - it is necessary to begin where the world is if we are going to change it to what we think it should be." We must have a vision of where we would like to be as a human race grounded in the reality of where we currently find ourselves. That vision must include others.   It is ultimately an "other-oriented" lens through which we must address our actions in life, a lens to be enhanced by the sacred and profound, not blinded by their radiance. It is a vision of religion as a path to God and in service to God through service to other human beings, not in spite of other human beings. Similarly, other lofty sentiments like democracy cannot merely be the ends for which human beings are the means. The Simon and Garfunkel rendition illustrates this fault in instances when order becomes the ends by which civil rights are refused, or national security becomes the ends by which dignity is violated. The necessary vision must be that "the least of these" refers to each of us at one time or another. It is a vision that both oppressor and oppressed have to bear. Alinsky writes, "In the world as it is there are no permanent happy or sad endings," just a continuing appreciation for the beauty and struggle of human relationships and interactions.  "No man is an island," proclaimed John Donne. At least, none should be - not in our successes, our failures, our ecstasies or our agonies. As human beings, we do have our moments of solitary experience. But the island paradise we seek is found in other human beings. Even when our personal melodies are ones of discord, they are symphonic with others in the world. Alex Coccia is a junior Africana and Peace Studies major, and a Gender Studies minor. He appreciates late night conversations in the Siegfried Chapel.  He can be reached at acoccia@nd.edu     The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

The Observer

Imaginary friends

By The Observer · Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012

Mark Sloan died last week. This name may mean nothing to some people, but to every "Grey's Anatomy" fan, Dr. McSteamy will always be remembered as the sexiest, cockiest, best plastic surgeon that's ever existed. He may be just a character on a TV show, but when the years of his life flashed across the screen at the end of the episode, I felt like I was at a funeral reading his tombstone. I cried alone in my dorm room about the death of a fictional character. Sad, I know. But he was more than a fictional character to me. He was the man who always had a witty comment to make me laugh on any given Thursday, the man who taught me that we all make mistakes, yet some people suffer worse consequences, the man who was enthralled by Lexie Grey, but didn't admit it until it was too late. It made me wonder - is it right that I feel so much emotion for this person who isn't even real? When I read stories about shootings in Chicago or the war in Iraq, of course I think it's sad and horrible, but it doesn't really faze me. I've become desensitized to it. I have this numbness toward the tragedy in our world because it happens so much. It's like if you put a frog in boiling water, it hops out immediately. But if you put it in room-temperature water and slowly heat it up, the frog will die because it won't know to jump out. That's how I've become unaffected by all of the injustices in our world - because the temperature has been rising slowly, I'm unable to jump out, unable to be shocked by any of it. But witnessing Mark Sloan's death was like putting the frog in boiling water for me. The sadness hit me right away because he was suddenly gone. That's shocking and sad and hard to deal with. But then why aren't the injustices in our world as shocking and sad and hard to deal with? It could be because they're far away from us. Characters are close, they're relatable. But these problems in our world, they're distant and maybe too much to handle. It's like when someone is seriously injured and blacks out because the brain can't deal with the pain. There's too much to deal with, so the brain doesn't deal with any of it. It's in shock. Dealing with problems in smaller doses is easier. Setting up one food pantry or one good school is more doable than solving world hunger or bringing good education to poor areas. Curing a disease on a case-by-case basis is easier than eliminating it completely. If you look at the big picture, things may seem hopeless - but if you zoom in, a solution seems possible. That's what fictional TV show characters do for us. They take general problems and make them specific. That single figure represents many problems from reality, but they're relatable, sympathetic, loveable. And they make us love them. They welcome us into their lives for a fleeting moment once a week, and in those moments we come to love them for the lessons they teach us. They teach us about love and heartbreak, life and death. I swear I've learned more than half of my life lessons from "Grey's Anatomy" (specifically from Meredith's monologues). We live vicariously through these characters, because they represent real problems that we face every day, though on a greater and more exaggerated scale. So, these characters affect us, we feel like we know them. No wonder we're sad when they leave us. They're our friends - which isn't necessarily a bad thing, just a little strange. For instance, it's strange to me that watching "Grey's" while doing my chemistry homework gives me extra motivation to keep studying science or pre-med or whatever I choose. It's almost like these doctors are my role models, but they're not even real. Sometimes I think I could better invest my time in reality, in real relationships, in crying for the tragedies in our world instead of crying for Mark Sloan's death. Then again, maybe not. I'm still learning lessons and feeling human emotions. So what if it is a fictional TV character who brings them out? At least I feel something. If only this empathy could be extended to more people in real life. I think it could, though, if I find a cause that makes me love it just as much as Mark Sloan made me love him. That would be the best of both worlds. Bridget Galassini is a freshman. She can be reached at bgalassi@nd.edu The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

The Observer

Everyone loves St. Francis

By The Observer · Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012

Everyone loves St. Francis. When I mentioned his feast day on Facebook, Catholic and non-religious friends alike gave the thumbs-up. The dining halls baked cakes. There was a special Mass in the Basilica. Besides being struck by the irony of the vanilla lambs, I sometimes worry that we romanticize Francis too much. When a million movements claim him as their poster-boy, when we anchor statues of him in our gardens and imagine him dancing barefoot in the sun with the birds, we risk missing the point of what was really radical about him. When St. Francis was about our age, he was coasting through life. He had it made. And then one day, while he was selling velvet in a crowded marketplace - as he'd done dozens of times before - he noticed a beggar sitting in the corner, ignored by every single person passing by.   We all know the rest of the story: how Francis chased after the beggar, how he exchanged clothes with him and later denounced his father's inheritance. That is awesome. But let's rewind a bit. The very first radical thing that Francis did, before he founded an order, cared for lepers, negotiated with a Sultan or whatever, was to see that man in the marketplace, to really see him, for the first time. How many times had he sat there before, unnoticed amidst all the hustle-and-bustle? Francis may have been the very first person to see him for who he really was: not a beggar, but a man and a brother. The next radical thing that Francis did was to run after him. Francis was a lot like many of us: 20-something, well-off and well-educated. For him, there was no lightning from the sky or intellectual "aha!" moment. He just opened his eyes to what was smack-dab in front of him all along. Not all of us can go to Appalachia for fall break, or make it to a soup kitchen every week. Some of us may always live and work in environments like that marketplace - Notre Dame is certainly one. But the example of St. Francis challenges us to not use our circumstances as an excuse for not reaching out to others. He challenges us to look more closely for those who are poor and tired around us - a friend going through a rough time, a worn-out housekeeper, a dorm-mate sitting alone in the dining hall - and to go out of our way not only to acknowledge them, but to love them. In those little moments, we might become saints. Take a look around!    Christina Mondi is a junior with a major in psychology and a minor in Catholic Social Tradition and Science, Technology, and Values. She can be reached at cmondi@nd.edu     The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

The Observer

Reevaluate the Shamrock Series

By The Observer · Thursday, Oct. 4, 2012

When Notre Dame and Miami face off in Chicago on Saturday, it will mark the fourth installment in the highly successful Shamrock Series, the University's annual off-site home football game. The series promotes the Notre Dame brand and has brought the Irish to San Antonio, New York and the Washington, D.C. area prior to this year's tilt in Chicago. The University has done an admirable job promoting Notre Dame and consistently finds new heights on which to elevate its imprint. But, this time, it has found a new low. Three weeks ago, Notre Dame students received an email telling them only 288 tickets would be made available to the student body for this year's contest. That's 288 tickets for an undergraduate population of more than 8,000 students. For a home game. In Chicago. Soldier Field is 94 miles from the Notre Dame campus. Alumni, as usual, will travel in droves to see the gold (and, this week, blue) helmets shimmering under the lights in what is sure to be a Notre Dame celebration that spans the entire weekend. But only 3.6 percent of the students were invited to the party. One of the unique aspects of the Shamrock Series is its inclusion of academic and other non-football activities that the University puts on during the annual event. This year's docket includes a pep rally at Millennium Park, drummers' circle and several academic lectures. When the Shamrock Series was in other parts of the country, a lack of student tickets was understandable. But this year is different. Even students without a car on campus could have easily made the trip by bus or train and taken part in a spectacular atmosphere at one of America's iconic venues. Saturday was a day Notre Dame students - many of whom are from Chicago - have had circled on their calendar for quite a while. The Notre Dame-Chicago connection is a special one, and that's due in large part to the lofty number of students from the area. This week, Irish players who grew up in the Windy City have described what this weekend means to them as Bears fans, Chicago residents and Notre Dame student-athletes. It's an experience they will cherish far after their playing careers are finished, but that opportunity has mostly been withheld from students. Once the University announced the ticket allotment for this game, many Chicago-based students decided to go home for the weekend, even without a ticket after being forced to reevaluate their plans. The University's decision led many other students to look for tickets through outside sources, such as StubHub, for greater than the $125 price it offered students, an amount costing about half as much as the home season ticket booklet. Maybe it's time to reevaluate what the Shamrock Series is all about. If Notre Dame is trying to promote its brand and celebrate its academic and athletic brands, how can it properly do so a couple hours from campus with only a 288-student allotment? This is a college football program. We are the college students who can bring our voices and our spirit to support a team of our classmates and peers. Anyone who's ever been to a Notre Dame home game knows the student section is the pulse of the Stadium. Now, despite a golden opportunity, the Shamrock Series will feel like a home game in name only. Maybe the decision was made to maximize a profit. Maybe the decision was made to appease as much of the alumni base as possible. Maybe the decision was made to keep as many students in South Bend as possible the weekend before midterms. The University at least owes the student body an explanation for this disappointment. An integral part of the home football experience is the student body - and most of us will be missing when Notre Dame and Miami revive a once-intense rivalry this weekend, less than 100 miles from campus. 

The Observer

My day with JFK

By The Observer · Thursday, Oct. 4, 2012

Fifty years ago next Saturday, on October 13, 1962, President John F. Kennedy campaigned for Democratic candidates throughout Southwestern Pennsylvania. One of his stops, at my county courthouse, was located just a few miles from my home. With such a rare opportunity before us, naturally my father - an elementary school principal, first generation Italian-American, Catholic, World War II veteran educated through the GI Bill - dragged me to see the president. As an 11-year-old sixth grader, I was more interested in football on that sunny Saturday morning. However, little could I imagine at morning's start that I would ultimately be three feet from the president who spoke to me.  Kennedy's election was an important political milestone victory for Catholics, a time that also exposed me to my first experience of religious discrimination. Growing up, I heard my father share his stories of hostile heritage and religious hatred hurled at him in school and against my Italian immigrant grandparents in the workplace. While in fourth grade, during the Kennedy-Nixon campaign, my best friend - from a Protestant family - spewed nasty slurs at me he had heard from his parents about "those Catholics" like Kennedy and me. So I understood why my father dearly admired Kennedy who broke the political barriers for Catholics similarly to how Barack Obama shattered one for African-Americans in 2008.  Stepping back a half-century ago, our nation faced chaotic and challenging times that tugged the president's attention from one huge event to another at lightening speed. Amidst the pressures of the Oval Office that October weekend, Kennedy focused on the off-term election cycle when an incumbent president's party usually loses seats in Congress. Thus, Kennedy campaigned against congressional Republicans who were obstructing his legislative agenda.  When Kennedy spoke to us, he was wrestling behind the scenes with an international crisis trying to thwart the Soviet Union's installation of nuclear missiles in Cuba. On the home front, the president dealt with civil rights discrimination, specifically James Meredith's attempt to break the all-white discrimination that barred him from enrolling at the University of Mississippi. Kennedy mobilized federal forces by sending 170 marshals to escort Meredith to class. But on that October Saturday, I was concerned more about football.  Mid-morning we staked out a spot on the sidewalk and stood for two hours before the motorcade approached. My mind wondered but dismissed the possibility of snipers hiding under a porch with a latched wooden fence. It seemed like forever before the motorcade arrived and surprised me. As a boy, automobiles played a huge role in my life. So, I was shocked to see President Kennedy sitting on the trunk of a tan Chevrolet Impala convertible with his feet on the back seat. Where was that big black limousine I had seen on television? Yet within a minute, he passed. He had gone so quickly - in an Impala.  We tried to walk a block closer to where the president spoke on the courthouse steps. However, throngs of people clogged the streets, so we only heard half of his speech through the roaring cheers and blurred sound system. After speaking, Kennedy attended a luncheon at a hotel, so naturally much of the crowd went home. But my father led me to the alley behind the hotel where we again stood for another hour. Finally, the president mounted onto the Impala's trunk near us.  We leaned on a fence an arms-length from the president. Kennedy's rich chestnut auburn-colored hair moved in the wind. He nodded in recognition when my father said, "Hi Jack!" Then the president said to me, "Hello son," as his car began to roll towards the street. He waved at me first, then to the people at the end of the alley. As quickly as he arrived, he was gone.  Looking back on my day with President Kennedy - beyond my sore feet, sniper fantasies and the surprising Impala convertible - I note his message countering the Republican Party for acting as obstructionists against Kennedy's agenda. Ironically, it is not unlike today's campaign when he said, "As it has shown for 30 years, that every time we try to do something for jobs, and for security, and for education, the Republicans vote 'no,' the Democrats vote 'yes.'"  Kennedy continued, "We lost the medical care for the aged, as we lost the department of urban affairs, as we almost lost minimum wage, as we lost supplemental unemployment compensation, as we lost our agricultural bill, as we lost our higher education bill. Will you tell me what they are for?"  Kennedy concluded, "And I am proud to stand here, although I am not a candidate for office, and in all good faith ask you to give us some people who in 1963 and '64 will build a strong America upon which the world depends."  My day with JFK may sound like today, but it still seems like yesterday.

The Observer

Boxing out of a rut

By The Observer · Thursday, Oct. 4, 2012

None of my friends could keep a straight face when I mentioned in August that I was joining the boxing team. Between the smirks and incredulous laughter, I heard everything from "You're the least aggressive person ever," to "I thought you hated working out," to "I really don't think you could actually punch someone like that, if you had to." After hearing "Wait, are you serious?" a dozen times, changing my mind really wasn't an option anymore - at that point, the only way to avoid a year of jokes and offhand comments about being a wanna-be boxer was to become an actual boxer. None of my previous athletic pursuits prepared me for this experience - I was an average member of my high school tennis team and a well below-average swimmer for one season. If I felt particularly motivated, I might take on the occasional fifteen-minute mile and call it quits at the three-quarter mark. I knew this, but at the same time I'd been pretty bored with the current state of the union and I wanted to do something uncharacteristic and unexpected. Team rules hold that members have to attend four practices a week to fight in the Baraka Bouts in November, and it's fair to say that the first week or two absolutely destroyed me. The only way to distract myself from the misery of those first runs was to spend the time brainstorming escape routes or excuses to quit the team altogether. I couldn't bring myself to do much more than get through it and then sleep as hard as I could. Each practice is challenging, enough to keep me questioning why I got into this to begin with, but that's exactly what I was hoping for. I didn't join the team so my friends would think I was tougher and realize they'd underestimated me, and it had nothing to do with some hidden desire to punch people. I don't aspire to go pro after my Notre Dame career, and while I am proud to say that the money we raise will help the people of Uganda, that wasn't it either. I joined because I needed to get out of a rut, to shake up the way my life was going and see what else I had to learn about myself. I needed to know that I could ask that much of myself and then pay upfront, even if the price tags on those first miles were alarmingly high. I like myself much better if I'm a person who boxes after class instead of taking a nap; I needed to learn to fight every now and then, as long as I chose my battles wisely. Each day I feel my body getting stronger around me, and if nothing else, I'm glad I can go to bed each night knowing I'm better off in some way than I was when I woke up that morning.

The Observer

The perks of being a superfan

By The Observer · Wednesday, Oct. 3, 2012

The other day, I was running around the lakes, the sun glinting off the water, the first fallen leaves of autumn crunching beneath my feet and "Gangnam Style" pounding in my ears, when I approached a man running towards me from the opposite direction.  

The Observer

Love and the Holy Trinity

By The Observer · Wednesday, Oct. 3, 2012

How many times a week do we make the Sign of the Cross, with its somewhat absurd claim that our one God is three persons? Perhaps we have made it in the dining hall before a meal, or in bed during prayer before falling asleep. What's the significance? Does it really matter, right there in the dining hall, in your dorm room or apartment, that we affirm God as three persons, as a Trinity, rather than as, well, just "God?"

The Observer

Fall ball

By The Observer · Wednesday, Oct. 3, 2012

I often flip-flop on my favorite season, but fall is a front-runner.

The Observer

CSC Pledge for Virtuous Discourse

By The Observer · Monday, Oct. 1, 2012

Every year the Center for Social Concerns (CSC) centers its events around a theme; this year's revolves around a document called "Pacem in Terris," written 50 years ago by Pope John XXIII. In it, Pope John encourages respectful relationships between people, societies and nations as well as the utilization of one's talents to add to the greater good of society.

Trending