Today the Congregation of Holy Cross and the University of Notre Dame said farewell to Father Theodore M. Hesburgh, who served as Notre Dame's president for 35 years and is regarded as the 'second founder' of the university. As you might imagine, his funeral Mass inspired and moved those who attended as well as those of us who watched the live broadcast on television. We have been thinking quite a bit about Father Ted around here this past week.
At the end of the funeral, his brother Holy Cross priests filed out past his casket. Each of them, as far as I could tell, laid a hand on the casket as he passed it. They led him out of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart and then in the procession from the church to the cemetery of the Holy Cross community about half a mile away. Hundreds of students and faculty and staff and local citizens lined the road which winds around the lake to the cemetery.
Not every visitor to Notre Dame discovers the Holy Cross Community Cemetery. In a secluded area of the campus, it sits well away from the 'beaten path' that most visitors and students tread. I found the cemetery during the first weeks of my move here, and frequently make excuses to enter or leave campus by that route. I find it a place of great peace and serenity. Row upon row of small, white, stone crosses cover the ground, barely protruding above the snow that blankets the cemetery today. This is the final resting place of members of the Congregation of Holy Cross, the group of priests and brothers who founded Notre Dame. And you cannot distinguish one grave from another, save by reading the name on each cross. I find this a bit breathtaking.
Father Ted's grave will be just one of hundreds. Oh, I imagine that it will now be a 'must see' place for visitors henceforward, but other graves will soon surround it. Father Ted will lie with his brothers forever.
As I watched the procession and then the committal, I thought about the sacrifices of the Holy Cross priests who came here from France and carved a university out of the raw wilderness of northern Indiana. They first stopped in Vincennes, far south of South Bend, thinking their mission would be established there. A few years before, the Sisters of Providence had arrived, also from France, and were trying to start schools and missions in that part of Indiana. They encountered some challenges from the resident bishop, and Father Sorin and his Holy Cross brothers also found some obstacles in their way in Vincennes. When word came that there was land available for the Holy Cross mission in northern Indiana, practical wisdom indicated a change of scene might be good. Mother Theodore Guerin (canonized in 2006) lent Father Sorin an oxcart for the journey north. Off he went with his brothers, and the rest is history.
Both Father Sorin and Mother Guerin labored in the Lord's vineyard here in Indiana. Both were buried with their brothers and sisters in their communities' burial grounds.
I taught with Sisters of Providence at Guerin High School in Chicago, and made dear friends among them. Once, I had the privilege of attending a Sister's funeral at St. Mary of the Woods near Terre Haute. I thought about that funeral today as well. Sister Jean Margaret did not have the international stature of Father Ted, but she shaped and influenced the lives of hundreds and hundreds of students and colleagues. Her funeral, while held in a beautiful, stately church, didn't draw television coverage or thousands of mourners. Her photo didn't grace banners flying across the campus of the college. And yet, when the funeral ended, her sisters led her out of the church and stood at the doorway before her casket was borne away. We joined the group gathered there, and listened as the sisters sang their community's hymn, "Our Lady of Providence", as a final goodbye.
Sister Jean Margaret now lies beneath one of the hundreds of small, white, stone crosses in the Sisters of Providence Cemetery at St. Mary of the Woods. This cemetery also fills a quiet, secluded, serene spot in Indiana's countryside. Row upon row of white crosses stretch into the distance. Some of them now mark the graves of my own colleagues. One can trace the history of the Sisters of Providence in the names on these crosses. Benches sit in convenient places so that visitors may stop awhile and think and pray. It is a beautiful and humbling place. It is a powerful witness to faith and love and community.
That is what knits Father Ted and Sister Jean Margaret together in my thoughts today. That is what marked Father Sorin and his brother missionaries and Mother Guerin and her sisters. Whatever they accomplished, whatever accolades they received, whatever good came to others through them, they drew strength from their lives as professed members of religious communities, and they rested within those communities when their lives ended.
I will visit Father Ted's grave when spring arrives. When I do, I think I will walk around and read the names of some of his Holy Cross brothers and say thank you.
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