Hail the Cross, Our Only Hope

A banner hanging in Father Hesburgh's chapel on the thirteenth floor of Hesburgh Library

A focus of my hall retreat last weekend was “Found.” At some times this year I have felt the most “found” by God and by my loved ones that I have ever felt. 

I have been on fire with love for the Lord and with the desire to serve, responding to the call to serve as a Mentor-In-Faith at ND Vision this summer and accepting the invitation to a semester of adventure abroad in London next spring. I attended three incredibly refreshing, community-building, faith-invigorating retreats: Sophomore Road Trip, Anchor Leadership retreat, and my hall retreat. I saw the Notre Dame family unite in a special and perhaps unprecedented way with the passing of Reverend Theodore Hesburgh, C.S.C. in March. I sat on a Hawaiian black sand beach and contemplated what a gift it is to be alive on the Hawaii Pilgrimage this spring break. I stayed on campus for Easter weekend and was blessed to attend all of the Triduum services at the Basilica, entering into the Holy Week experience in an intensely beautiful, personal way. I made wonderful memories with fantastic friends, both old and new.

At other times this year, I have felt the most lost that I have ever been. 

Several of my close friends have suffered while accompanying family and friends in times of pain. So have I. Our community has grieved the loss of the lives of students, faculty, and benefactors. Our world continues to face natural disasters, tragedies, and unrest. Sometimes it feels like my prayers are small and insignificant. Actually, lots of times it has felt this way. And as I continue to navigate what it means to be a good friend, roommate, student, daughter, follower, leader, and disciple of Jesus, sometimes I feel like I’m failing in these roles. Sometimes the more I learn about who I am meant to be and what I am meant to do, the further I stray away from those things.

However.

My theology class recently read Charles Peguy’s epic poem The Portal of the Mystery of Hope. This text has been hugely transformative in the way I view the concept of hope. On Easter Sunday, Peguy says, “God, for each soul that is saved, rings the eternal Easter bells.” Humans hope in the Resurrection that we experience on Easter because humankind was glorified in Christ. God hopes in the Resurrection because it brings about the finding and the bringing back of His lost sheep.

This semester, I have truly learned to hope.

I see hope in the texts I have read in theology class this semester. I witness hope in my friends and in my family when faced with challenges. I take hope in the coming of spring in the tiny pink and green buds all over campus. I find hope in my own heart at the thought that God hopes in me. Each time I run to Him in hope (or shame or fear or happiness or uncertainty or gratitude), he rings the eternal Easter bells.

Ave crux spes unica. Hail the Cross, Our Only Hope.

This does not mean that everything else is hopeless, but rather that all other hope we may hold within our hearts stems from the hope of Easter Sunday. We have something eternal and certain to hope in. And that is something to be joyful about!

Taken in Flathead Lake, Montana