Here’s the scene: it’s the mid-19th century, the bleakest of bleak Indiana winters. A French priest, Father Edward Sorin, accompanied by seven brethren, is trekking along the path of the Wabash River. Eventually, their destination is reached. The property consists of a shed, a clapboard building and a log cabin. The ground is icy, the topography, like Norfolk, very flat. Anyone else would go straight home.
But they stay, and build what has become the University of Notre Dame, an institution embracing two harmoniously coexisting religions: American football and Catholicism. It’s a monument to Gothic architecture, a paean to perfection in its immaculately maintained campus. My husband has taught history here for the last 15 years.
