You may know it more for its football team, but Catholicism runs rampant at Notre Dame

I have just arrived in Toronto from the University of Notre Dame where I gave a  talk on the single life. My invitation came about in an amusing way: on my blog for single Catholics, I asked jokingly who wanted to invite me to Notre Dame; before nightfall I received an e-mail from the Edith Stein Project committee inviting me to Notre Dame. Ask and ye shall receive.

The Edith Stein Project sprang up in the controversy surrounding the performance at Notre Dame of Eve Ensler’s undignified little raunch-fest known locally as “Those Monologues.” In 2004, a group of undergraduate women felt that it was time to discuss women’s inherent dignity in the light of Mulieris Dignitatem, and began to plan a conference. The women chose for their patron the great philosopher-saint Edith Stein, whose thought on “the Woman Question” influenced John Paul II and current Catholic discourse on femininity.

My feminine self arrived, bleary-eyed, in South Bend, Indiana, on Friday afternoon and was met by a slender, quiet, fourth-year student named Holly. Holly’s job was to look after me, which was fortunate as I had not yet recovered from the jet lag of my earlier trip from Britain.

The air was sharp with cold and the snow lay thickly on the ground. I looked eagerly before me as Holly drove into the Notre Dame campus; the famous golden dome rose above the gentle buildings and from its summit Our Lady looked protectively down upon her university.

The papers were delivered in the Conference Centre, and there Holly led me, murmuring that its coffee was excellent. It was. I drank it eagerly and refilled my cup for Fr. Wilson Miscamble, C.S.C.’s talk on making room for faith in American universities.

The next speaker was Wendy Shalit, the celebrated author of A Return to Modesty: Discovering the Lost Virtue. She now lives in Toronto with her husband and family. I read A Return to Modesty years ago, and admired Shalit for both her message and her guts. As the book was a hit, every American celebrity feminist worth being insulted by insulted her. I can but dream.  

The afternoon ended with Mass in the gold-encrusted basilica, and I was charmed to see the amiable face of Brother André on large posters hanging from the outer walls. St. Brother André was, of course, a member of the Congregation of the Holy Cross, the order that founded Notre Dame, and as he is their first saint, they are very proud of him indeed. Dinner followed with a lecture by Bishop emeritus John D’Arcy, and then Holly drove me to my lodgings in the local Franciscan convent. There I discovered the famous chastity speaker Dawn Eden in the doorway next to mine, chatting eagerly with a Dominican nun from Tennessee.

It had certainly been an interesting day, and Saturday was even more full of interesting talks and wonderful conversations. The reality of living in Scotland but writing for Canada is that I get very little public reaction to my writing. At Notre Dame, friendly women kept popping up to say “Hi! I just want to say that I really love your blog. Would you sign my book?” It was a tiny bit like being a movie star, and the only thing that kept my head from swelling to dangerous proportions was the knowledge that I would soon be back in Edinburgh, where my claim to fame is living in a very old house.  

I think my own talk went well; the audience laughed when I hoped they would, and only one of the questions was a stumper. The subsequent banquet was great fun, and in the morning Holly took me to the Extraordinary Form of the Mass. I hadn’t realized that Notre Dame had a traditional Latin Mass, but it does.

“We take out Fortescue at cocktail parties,” declared Holly.

Afterwards I was borne away by students to brunch, and I asked them why devout Catholic parents should send their children to Notre Dame instead of other, more strictly Catholic private colleges like Ave Maria and Steubenville. After all, not everyone chooses Notre Dame because it is Catholic; many choose the school because it is prestigious and rich. One man spoke under conditions of anonymity; another said I could use his name as long as I reported that he had seven inches of lace on his server’s surplice.  

“Notre Dame is more intellectually rigourous than Ave Maria and Steubenville,” said my anonymous informant.

“If parents raise their kids in the faith, knowing their faith, they won’t lose their faith at Notre Dame,” said Michael of the surplice.

Notre Dame is Our Lady’s university, but there is no denying that it possesses some worldly glamour. The waffles in the dining hall had Notre Dame’s Fighting Irish leprechaun symbol stamped in their middles; the world knows the school more for its football than for its faith.

Nevertheless, I found faith alive, joyful and vigourous in the students who work so hard to make the Edith Stein Project an annual success.