Pothole Culture Shock
I didn’t swerve around the pothole because I didn’t see it. In many ways, I’ve forgotten how to look outside myself and outside my culture.
I didn’t swerve around the pothole because I didn’t see it. In many ways, I’ve forgotten how to look outside myself and outside my culture.
Most people say that I shouldn’t let anything hold me back from doing great things. But I don’t have much desire to do great things. What are great things without the small things?
Lucky for me, The Hot Room was offering a free event at a local park last week.
Words are not the deciding factor here. Actions are met with actions.
This is where we are. The reduction of a decades-long debate with life-changing ramifications to a billboard. Or a bumper sticker. Or a sound bite.
Every spring, Notre Dame holds a half-marathon called (surprise, surprise) “The Holy Half.”
Come this new year, let’s not see how low we can go.
Maybe by the time I’m ninety-six or ninety-seven I’ll see things differently. Maybe I’ll see divine love in the allowance of racial violence, torture, and marginalization.
Certainly the most popular selfie-spot on campus, Touchdown Jesus overlooks the football stadium with Christ and his perpetually upraised arms.
We aren’t who we should be, and that’s not ok. And try as we do, we can’t fix our ugliness. But that doesn’t mean we’re not loved, and it doesn’t mean we’re alone.