Social Sustainability (The Perspective of an ND Alum)

This past weekend, some good friends and I spent many hours at our friend's house, comfortable on couches, Pandora gently playing in the background, chatting away for hours on end about the heavier things of life. We covered everything from ghosts and the transcendence of the beyond to our students' attitude toward dress code and social media.

It was just some thoughtful, faithful young adults listening intently to one another and responding from the mind and heart. It was the kind of caliber of conversation we enjoyed so much in college, when so many of us were immersed in the academic pursuits of our chosen colleges and majors. We were in the midst of the most rigorous studies of our lives to date, and we were immersing ourselves in the depths of those things that most interested us. We had the time and space to do so with great intention, and as a result, we probably grew more and at a faster rate than at most other times in our lives.

My older brother is four years older than me, so he graduated college just as I began it. I remember enjoying the article links and commentaries he would forward to me or include me in as his friends would produce great conversations by reply-all threads over e-mail. The best piece of advice he gave me then? Relish the intellectual atmosphere at Notre Dame because it will be much harder to find or sustain after you leave.

I soaked it up as best I could. I was a dedicated student; I picked a major I love (Theology) and classes I knew I could really sink my teeth into (World Christianity, Theology of Benedict XVI, etc.); I opted to single major and not add any minors so that I could dabble in whatever ignited my interest and curiosity (Presidential Leadership, American Religious History). I became a voracious reader, bouncing between dining hall copies of The Observer, Chicago Tribune, and New York Times (even if occasionally just for the crosswords!); I consumed blogs and columns; I became a writer myself, of an ill-fated hard-drive crash victim of a book and of this very blog that has survived over three years of catharses. And I openly entered into challenging conversations with my friends whenever our talks went in that direction, happy to pursue the spiritual questions and frustrations that arose, eager to learn from my friends doing political science, science science, or business for their unique insights, excited to see what curiosities and interests cropped up in the collegiate academic lives of my dear friends.

The important thing about all of that, and the important thing about my brother's advice, is that such a lifestyle and disposition didn't have to end at commencement. We donned the cap and gown, received our degrees, and vacated our residences; we moved out of the 574. However, that deepened desire for that next level of experiencing life - intellectually, academically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally, socially - didn't have to fade away.

Thanks to faithfulness to my faith and the blessings of good friends and communities, the wonder and delight of my Notre Dame education endures.

The Notre Dame Folk Choir gifted me a disposition toward liturgy, prayer, and worship that I would never have otherwise had. My experience of the Church and its communal work in the liturgy is surely more critical and active now than before. Though I (in typical alumnus fashion) struggle with the difference between the nature of liturgy on campus and outside it, the tension is something I desire, for it causes me to question, seek answers, and ultimately leads me back to my beloved community. I think back to the choir, to our way of ministering, and I share my thoughts in that context, with new friends and assuredly with my former partners in crime, who experienced this same formation while in the trenches, leading us to reconnect and seek to build our Church up more strongly.

Notre Dame Vision gave me opportunity to an extent I never could have otherwise had, being compensated to dedicate myself for two summers to pastoral ministry for teens. Those eight weeks of sessions, those eight small groups, those 50+ students, those 100+ mentors, and that wonderful staff all helped me discern with great conclusiveness that I needed to do this as my life's work. The joy of community (which hasn't ended over 18 months alter), with mentors as well as with my intimate families of 9 teens each week, were my daily bread, giving me the relationships I desired most, the outlet for my personality that allowed my gifts to meet the needs of the world, for my care to bring people to relationships with others and with God. This is something that, as far I'm concerned right now, will never cease in my life.

Four years living in Zahm exposed me to another side of community. My freshman triple, my sophomore 8-man (the ThrOcho, best 8-man ever), and even my upperclassman singles surrounded with my guys who wanted nothing more than to be together and laugh. We could almost always ease tensions, create a silly memory, and leave each other in happy moods. This was both our strength and weakness - often, our community shied away from seriousness as it was so addicted to levity and sarcasm that we didn't know how to change gears. I have a deeper appreciation for the place of light-heartedness, inside jokes, and brotherhood, but I know its dark side and how it can undermine legitimate friendships, too. The men of Zahm gave me added perspective on what I value and look for in friendship; I have those brothers (look at me, getting all RamJet-y) to thank, and anytime I see them again, it's like we never parted.

Even beyond any one community, my closest friendships didn't rely on tangible things for fun. Yes, we enjoyed occasionally going out for drinks. Yes, we had our favorite landmarks on campus. Yes, the Backer is and always will be the greatest place to dance and karaoke-scream 80s songs into each other's faces. However, our bond isn't dependent on it. We don't need to have a reunion on campus to sustain our friendships. It certainly couldn't hurt, but we endure through a stronger bond than any one place can hold.

We founded our relationships on vulnerable conversation. We relied upon one another's honest sharing of their curiosities and interests, whether academic or social. We relied on each other to speak up when they were troubled, struggling, or in need of help. We relied on the ability to sit around, be comfortable and relaxed, and talk and listen. Our need was for the opportunity to share what was brewing within us; our hunger was nourished by the opportunity to listen to the thoughts of our companions on the pilgrim journey.

Ultimately, the community we continue to have, even after we moved on to Atlanta, DC, Philly, Uganda, Texas, Ireland, California, Iowa, and beyond, is founded on the Eucharist. We endure because we are nourished by Jesus the Lord, who is the manifestation of all those intangible yet valuable commodities that we cannot touch or travel to yet pursued and experienced most much in our social lives at Notre Dame. We know that the Body of Christ is not just the physical body of the One who undertook a Passion for our sins; we say "Amen" also to the bond that Christ creates, to the ties that join us through time and space to one another in Him.

Everything we craved and desired, those things that truly nourished us, things that gave us not just shallow happiness but deeper joy, were and are founded in Him. And that is a realistic and sustainable reality that can keep us going long after we graduate and can uphold us between campus visits to lose our voices in the football stadium or glory in the beauty of a liturgy on campus.

As I left Notre Dame, I knew I'd be moving to Ireland to volunteer as a lay minister and do my small part to help jump-start the Irish Catholic Church. My excessive presence to the moment allowed me to soak up the joy of graduation without the bearing such a heavy weight of leaving it all. It helped give me perspective about leaving my dear home and moving to a brand new, foreign one.

I knew that we go to Notre Dame in order to bring Notre Dame to the world. If we graduate, go right into an ND-sponsored grad/volunteering program, and then apply to PhD programs on campus, we aren't doing anything wrong, but it may be too similar to hitting the snooze button multiple times on a groggy morning. The extra sleep may be nice, but eventually, you have to get out of bed. Staying at Notre Dame isn't inherently wrong, but there is incredible potential if you can embrace the risk of leaving and be forged in the challenges of other worlds and influences.

You bring to your new community, your new job, your new co-workers an uncommon and multi-faceted outlook. You can share with them the value of your well-nourished and well-formed self. You get to carry with you the song of the Folk Choir, the pastoral enthusiasm of Notre Dame Vision, the cheeky, light-hearted love of Zahm House, and the lessons taught to you by your friends. If you're me, you struggle with the Jesuit influence bearing down from every direction, with the frustrating lack of accountability and foresight in your new home, or with the tension of being a campus minister who has to teach without compromising his ministry. And with Christ and the way my life unfolded at Notre Dame and lives on, you engage the tensions and sustain those things you value through it all.

And in this new place, there may not be a God Quad, a giant Jesus mural, or wooded lakes full of memories. However, there still will be a song, pastoral caring, inside jokes, and so much more. There will still be the love of Christ, found in communion with Him and with others. We can bring Notre Dame to the world and, in the new places we go, find a circle of friends, kicking back on some couches, talking of the amazing things in life.