Kathryn Griffin Swegart's Blog, page 8

Thoughts by the Wood Stove

 Winter mornings in Maine are dark and bitter cold, hard as ice on the body and soul. I arise before dawn, eager for a steaming mug of hot tea. That must wait. My first task is to start the wood stove. I open the door and check for embers. On this eight below morning, all looks black — not a spark to be seen. Even the stove is cold to the touch. I have no hope that the kitchen would be warm anytime soon. With a sigh I gather twigs from a paper bag. I hold a small iron shovel and shuffle coals around, doubtful that I will stir up any sparks. Surprise! I look closely and see a faint glow. Encouraged, I stack twigs, kindling, and newspaper, strike a match and a flame lights the darkness.

Now this may seem like too much work for most people. Indeed, it is a chore, but it is all worthwhile. I will tell you why. A wood stove delivers more than heat. It delivers the crackle of kindling and the sweet smell of burning oak. It delivers a cozy spot to read a book. Mysteriously, the flames have a mesmerizing effect, encouraging me to reflect deeper, beyond just staying warm. As I carefully add sticks onto a small bed of coals, I think of people I love who have left the Church. Deeply immersed in secular society, they lack awareness that life has a transcendent quality. St. Paul reminds us,

What is seen is transitory, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:18b)

Sometimes I lose hope for these loved ones that the light of faith is dead. I pray for them, strive to be a charitable person, and every now and then spark a gentle conversation about the existence of God. Often, it feels like a dead end. Still, I don’t give up. Recently, I read Night’s Bright Darkness: A Modern Conversion Story by Sally Read. Her story gave me hope. After the death of her father, Sally felt disoriented. All meaning in life was lost, by all appearances her heart seemed dead to change but one night, the unexpected happened. Alone in the world, Sally remembered words from a book, words that had a strange effect on her. It read, “God is merely shorthand for where we come from, where we are going, and what it’s all about.” Suddenly, Sally thought there was a possibility that God existed. One word started a chain of events that led to her conversion to the Catholic faith — all in just one year.

I take that first glorious sip of hot tea on a cold day and feel a glimmer of hope. A small ember can start a fire in my wood stove, just as heartfelt prayers, charity, and sweet reminders of our eternal destiny can start a soul back on the path to Christ and His Church.

Headline: Great New Podcast for Kids!

Radio theater is alive and well in the hands of a talented young man named Alex Dee. Alex first came to my attention through his masterful editing of archival footage in the movie Pray! The Story of Father Patrick Peyton (now Servant of God) who began a Rosary movement that attracted the Faithful from around the world. He and his wife, Melissa, have taken on a new project sure to be popular with young families who strive to pass on the Faith to their children.

Can you tell us a little about your background?

I am a husband, father, actor and producer and I’ve been pursuing film and acting for the last decade. Currently, I work for an international Catholic family ministry as their content creator and manager. I feel blessed to have developed a career both in front of and behind the camera, and I have a deep desire to tell stories that move hearts to Christ. For our podcast, I act as the narrator for each episode, and I edit and master everything together.

Where did you get the idea for Saints Alive?

I really have to credit my Mom for this idea. She grew up listening to stories of the saints on a record player and credits her love and knowledge of the saints to these stories. After becoming a Dad, I realized the need for tales of courage, virtue and beauty for children. The lives of the saints are filled with the sacrificial love of Christ and nothing could be more important for kids to hear than this in today’s culture. Once my wife and I realized that we could work together to create our own radio theater of the saints we decided to take it on. 

What is the purpose of Saints Alive and who might benefit from it?

Our goal is to tell the stories of the saints in a way that is engaging and inspiring to kids of all ages. Our podcast is geared towards children ages 6-12, but we’ve heard of toddlers, teenagers and parents alike who have all enjoyed listening! We have steered away from dumbing things down, and instead want to call our audience to lives of heroic virtue while still keeping the stories exciting and entertaining. 

Can you describe how an episode might sound?

Each episode is filled with beautiful music, talented voice actors, dynamic sound effects and engaging storytelling. We have characters to make kids laugh, moments that will make you cry, edge of your seat suspense, and most of all each episode is inspiring and calls the listener to sainthood. There’s nothing more exciting than the story of someone who said yes to Christ. The saints have had the greatest adventures with Christ and it’s been an honor to create this podcast. 

Footnote: I highly recommend Saints Alive! To listen, go to:

https://www.saintsalivepodcast.com

Christmas in Maine

 It was to be a quiet Christmas, with our farmhouse deep in snow and a blizzard bearing down, tracked by radar from the Kansas prairie. Treacherous road conditions cut us off from civilization. At noon on the day before Christmas, a dim sun rose, rimmed with a dark circle — an ominous sign. Bitter winds blew from the east. Our son made it home in time to help us bring wood on the porch. Bedtime came early that Christmas Eve. I felt the old house shake as gales blew across the field. Snow drifted on the windowpanes and piled up on our door posts in shapes spooky as sheeted ghosts. Pulling blankets over my head, I fell into a deep sleep.

 I awoke on Christmas morning to a new world, filled with glistening light under the rising sun. Gone was the brush pile, now covered with a white dome of snow. We sipped hot coffee and ate fresh cranberry bread, gearing up for shoveling. The air was crisp and clean under a cloudless blue sky. Thanks to the strong arms of my son, we cleared a path to the car and leaned on our shovels. We looked at each other and knew what we would do that afternoon. We would strap on snowshoes and hike in the woods behind our house.

 I felt exhilarated by the woods after a blizzard. I listened to the swish of my snowshoes through powdery drifts. Dark-green fir trees stood laden in dazzling crystal snowflakes. Wisps of wind blew snow off the branches into my face. We  plowed through deep drifts and stopped at an old pine tree. I heard scratching high up in the uppermost branches. A little critter looked down at me. It was a flying squirrel that leaped off the trunk and swooped in front of my face. It startled me.

 Startle is good on Christmas morning. After all, the Incarnation is a shocking event. God became Man and dwelt among us. Catholic convert and novelist Annie Dillard agrees. She hears bland sermons, observes lackadaisical parishioners and feels puzzled, wondering if people believe a word of the Gospel. She writes, “It is madness to wear straw hats and velvet to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews.”

 That night I turned on the white candle lights that sit on our windowsills. Colored lights twinkle on our Christmas tree, decorated with ornaments, reminding me of a birth in our family or the death of a loved one. Even as a child, these rituals made me think of the interplay of darkness and light, of good and evil that played out on that first Christmas day. Even as Jesus lay in the manger, Herod made plots to kill him. The Holy Family had no time to linger at the stable. They fled for their lives.

It is all so fabulous and strange! I snowshoed in the winter woods, touched by the beauty of God’s creation, surprised by the wonder of Christmas Day.

The Holy House of Mary

December 10 is the memorial to Our Lady of Loreto, a day that honors the the miraculous story of Mary’s house in Nazareth, the place where Jesus, Mary and Joseph lived. Here is the story.

In the year 1291 a strange thing happened in the little town of Nazareth. On the morning of May 10th, people of the village walked by and were astonished to see that a small house had disappeared. Now this was not your run-of-the-mill dwelling. Pilgrims considered it a holy house for it was the Virgin Mary’s house. Whoosh! Overnight the house was gone. All that remained was its foundation.

Who moved it? What happened? Good questions, dear reader. My sentiments exactly. The miraculous “translation” (movement) of Mary’s house was one of those nuggets I discovered in my research on Miraculous! Catholic Mysteries for Kids. At first, I was skeptical, but kept reading. The more I researched…the more I came to believe that it was not a fairy tale.

Here is the basic story. In the 1200’s, Saracen forces were attacking Christian churches and holy sites. It appeared their warriors were closing in on this sacred site. How sacred? Here was the house of the Immaculate Conception, of the Annunciation, of the hidden life of the Holy Family. Wow! Try to top that!  One night, unseen forces moved the little house from Nazareth to Croatia. It stayed there for three years. Next, it was carried over the Adriatic Sea to Italy. After two more moves, it was mysteriously relocated to its current location in Loreto, Italy.

It is believed that angels moved Mary’s house. Now that’s hard to swallow. What crazy person would buy that line? I delved more deeply into the story. Popes over the centuries have encouraged veneration of the Holy House. Many saints have visited the pilgrimage sit in Italy.  Among those saints are Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Francis Xavier, Saint Charles Borromeo, and St. Theresa of Lisieux. In 1848, St. John Henry Cardinal  Newman made pilgrimage to Loreto and left with no doubt of the miraculous nature of the house. “If you ask me why I believe, it is because everyone in Rome believes.”

By the year 1917, forty-four popes had visited and expressed belief in the miraculous origins. Among those popes were Leo XIII, Pius X, and Pius XII. In 1950, Pope Pius XII elevated the House of Loreto to the status of holy place. In 1993, Pope Saint John Paul II called it “the foremost shrine of international import dedicated to the Blessed Virgin.”

If any readers have been to this holy site, I would love to hear your story. Please post a comment on my website.

The Beggar of Bulgaria

Sofia, Bulgaria -Winter winds beat down on the old man. He pulled a threadbare coat tightly around his stooped body and shook snow out of peasant sandals. Despite fierce weather, he held out a tin cup to gratefully accept coins from pedestrians, never taking a penny for himself.  Even at age 100, the beggar walked 12 miles to his post outside Sofia’s churches. His name was Dobri Dobrev, called by some “the most humble man on earth”. Others call “Grandpa” Dobri a living saint.  With his long white beard and torn clothes, he did not look like a great philanthropist, but he was just that.  In 2009 he donated $22,500 to the local cathedral-the largest single donation ever received by the church. Over decades, Dobri collected nearly $50,000 to restore churches in Sofia, keeping it in the bank account of a relative.

Born in 1914, Dobri was inspired by his parents’ acts of kindness. His mother worked in an orphanage. If the orphanage ran short of money, Dobri’s father paid the power bill to protect orphans from the cold. As a young man serving as a bodyguard to the king of Bulgaria, a miracle occurred in Dobri’s life. Terrorists set off a bomb, attempting to kill the king. Inexplicably, Dobri survived and came to believe that God had a special mission for him. He devoted his life to God, eventually living in a cell attached to a monastery, giving gifts to the poor and homeless. During World War II, he helped shelter Jews from Nazi persecution.  All of these works he tried to keep hidden, but the world discovered him.

Admirers established a Facebook page that garnered 300,000 followers. Documentary films have been made depicting the life of a man who gave away all his possessions to rely on the mercy of God. Images of Dobri have appeared on Youtube videos and Twitter. Probably unknown to him, his kind face has been tweeted and retweeted thousands of times. His message was always the same.

He said, “The goodwill is just and true. Everything in it is good. We must love each other as God loves us.”

Dobri Dobrev died on February 13, 2018 at the age of 103. His name comes from the Bulgarian word for good.

Where did the St. Bernard Dog Come From?

How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization

We are all familiar with the majestic St. Bernard dog, that gentle giant of the canine world. The fascinating origins of this breed go back to the year 1670, to the St. Bernard Hospice, a Benedictine monastery nestled high in the Swiss Alps. Pilgrims often traveled through the St. Bernard Pass between Italy and Switzerland. Here they encountered blinding blizzards and treacherous avalanches. Brigands also robbed unsuspecting travelers who were left bleeding and penniless as they stumbled up to the doors of St. Bernard Monastery. Here they were provided safe refuge, thus living out the Benedictine Rule that “All guests who come shall be received as though they were Christ.”

Monks also saw a need to rescue pilgrims lost in deep snows. Over the centuries, they developed a breed of dog enormous in stature, able to navigate towering drifts, much like a canine version of a snowplow. These dogs were also trained to sniff out humans buried deep beneath the snow. 

The most famous of these rescue dogs was Barry der Menschenretter (people rescuer) who lived from 1800-1814. He is credited with saving the lives of forty people. In one rescue mission he found a child asleep in an icy cave. Barry licked the child’s face to bring back circulation and carried him back to the monastery.

Barry’s preserved body is on display at the Natural History Museum in Bern, Switzerland. In 2000, a special exhibition was held at the museum to honor a dog bred through the ingenuity of Catholic monks, part of the wider legacy of the Catholic Church in bringing Christian charity to the world, alleviating human suffering and misery down through the centuries. As historian Thomas E. Woods wrote, “The Catholic Church invented charity as we know it today.” This topic will be covered in future posts found at this website. Stay tuned.

“When he steps over that line, I will torture and kill him!”

Rome, Italy, 1943. World War II rages and Rome is occupied by Nazi Germany. Italy has surrendered. Allied prisoners have been released from Italian prisons but still must elude capture by Nazi forces. Monsignor Hugh O’Flaherty masterminds a rescue network to save them. 

As the sun set over Vatican City, a Catholic priest, tall in stature, stood on the steps of  St. Peter’s Basilica. He wore a broad-brimmed black hat and cassock edged with red. Monsignor Hugh O’Flaherty read prayers in his breviary until a noise interrupted his devotions. A sleek black car pulled up three hundred yards away. Colonel Herbert Kappler, commander of German forces in Rome, stepped out of the car, followed by two men, members of the dreaded SS: the Gestapo Secret Service.

Kappler pointed. “That is O’Flaherty. He is a dangerous man and gives us more trouble than anyone in Rome. I have ordered this white line painted around the Vatican. If he steps over the line I will torture and kill him.”

This began a deadly cat-and-mouse game between the Irish priest and Nazi commandant, a man who ordered a machine gun massacre of Allied prisoners. Known for his courage and compassion, O’Flaherty often sneaked over the white line in various disguises, including that of a coal man covered with dust. Priests, nuns, and lay people worked in secret with the rescue network hiding refugees in convents, monasteries, and private homes.

In June, 1944, Allied forces liberated Rome. More than 6,000 escapees were still alive. Kappler was tried as a war criminal and sentenced to life imprisonment. One person visited him in prison, faithfully once a month. That was Monsignor Hugh O’Flaherty. By the good priest’s example of heroic charity, and through discussions of literature and religion, Kappler had a major conversion and was received into the Catholic faith.

O’Flaherty’s inspiring story was portrayed in a fine major motion picture starring Gregory Peck. The Scarlet and the Black accurately portrays the kindness and courage of this heroic priest.

On October 30, 1963, Monsignor O’Flaherty passed away in his native Ireland. He was 65 years old. Fifty years later, a permanent memorial was unveiled in Killarney. The plaza shows a life-sized statue of the priest striding with prayer book in hand, unafraid  and with a smile on his face.

“It was like a bomb was dropped!”

On May 22,1958, Doctor Jerome Lejeune leaned into his outdated microscope to study chromosomes taken from the tissue of a child with a genetic anomaly. With a sharp eye, he spotted something strange. Under typical circumstances, a baby is born with 46 chromosomes. This baby had as extra copy of chromosome 21. Lejeune leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. The tissue was taken from a child with Down Syndrome. He had just discovered the cause of Down Syndrome, also known as Trisomy 21. Thankful that he had devised a way to attach a camera to the microscope, he snapped photographs of the slide. With excitement, he shared the photographs with other scientists. Now that he had discovered the cause of this genetic defect, researchers could find ways to treat it.

Little did he know that this groundbreaking discovery would lead to his greatest heartbreak.  Other scientists used the detection of Trisomy 21 in utero to abort children. In his native France, 90% of children with this birth defect are aborted.

Thus began the odyssey of Jerome Lejeune, known as the father of modern genetics. His story is told in the inspiring hour-long documentary film, To the Least of My Brothers and Sisters, produced by 4 PM Media. Filmed in France and the United States, the filmmakers use archival footage and recent interviews with family and colleagues to tell a riveting story of Lejeune’s genius and the persecution he endured for his defense of human life.

Some of the most moving segments of the film are the parents of these special children who had been outcasts before Dr. Lejeune took up their cause. With tears in their eyes they spoke of the extraordinary kindness and love he had for children that flocked to his clinic.

In 1969, Lejeune was at the peak of his career and in great demand to speak at scientific conferences. And then something happened. The American Society of Human Genetics bestowed on him the William Allen Award : the world’s highest honor in genetics. Two hundred scientists sat dumbfounded as he delivered an acceptance speech in defense of the human embryo, asserting that human life begins at conception, an assertion now accepted as fact by the scientific community. 

Listen to one scientist who was in attendance. “Wow! It was great. He called a spade a spade. It was scientific logic, not religion. He created an earthquake. It was a bomb being dropped.”

As Lejeune finished, there was a smattering of applause and a chorus of boos. He walked through the crowd and they made a path for him, refusing to shake his hand.

Lejeune wrote to his wife. “I have just lost the Nobel Prize for Medicine.”

The brilliant geneticist was ostracized by the scientific community. Research funding disappeared. He was not invited to speak at conferences. Death threats were made on his family, hateful graffiti spray painted on the walls of his clinic. Tires on their cars were slashed. Opponents hurled objects at him. Yet he did not remain silent. Lejeune debated on television with scientists who supported abortion. After a time, those invitations ceased. He spoke the truth with clarity. His words were irrefutable.

Thanks to this fine documentary, offered free to the public, we hear and see the heroic life of Dr. Jerome Lejeune, who died on April 3, 1994. It ends on a hopeful note. We see the celebration of these special people at a national conference. We hear a young doctor from Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston speak with excitement about his work in this field. We learn that research is now being done to modify the effects of Trisomy 21 and possibly find a cure. It is the work Dr. Lejeune desperately wanted to achieve in his lifetime. One day his dream will come true.

On January 21, 2021, Dr. Jerome Lejeune was declared Venerable by Pope Francis, declaring Lejeune to have lived a life of heroic virtue. 

Who is the Father of Aviation?

How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization 

Wrong! It was not Orville or Wilbur Wright. It was a Jesuit priest and mathematician named Francesco Lana de Terzi (1631-1687) who first described the physics and geometry of a flying machine. In 1670 he published a book in which he described a flying ship that was lighter than air. Although the machine was never built, his work laid the groundwork for a systematic theory of aeronautics backed by mathematics.

Like the Wright brothers, Father Terzi feared that the invention of a flying machine would be used as a devastating weapon of war. He wrote that “God will never allow that such a weapon be built…because everyone realizes that no city would be safe from raids…from weights, fireballs and bombs hurled from a great height.”

This priest could never have imagined the truth of his warnings.

To honor Father Terzi’s contributions to aeronautics, a model of his invention is on display at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. 

The Unthinkable!

At the turn of the millennium, Eric Brende took bold action. Long concerned about the detrimental effects of technology on the human condition, he decided to test his theory. Brende was a graduate student at M.I.T. and decided to write his Master’s thesis by living with an Amish community for eighteen months. He and his wife Mary gave up washer, dryer, refrigerator, microwave, electric lights, computers, air conditioning, central heat, power mower, and running water. Last to go was his Ford Escort, replaced by a mare named Isabel and a wagon.

Brende writes in a humorous, insightful style often describing the kindness of the Amish community. I enjoyed his description of the day he bought his horse–and-buggy. He sat high atop the seat, tipping and bumping down a slope, trying not to panic. A gust of wind sent sprinkles of horse sweat into this face.

It became a joy to reenter the world of sensory objects that is cut off from the driver of a car. You could actually touch the hedgerows slowly moving by the driver. You could literally converse with the human figures in their yards. The wagon was a kind of moving front porch.

Is life better without smartphones, wide-screen televisions, and Twitter?

That is a good question. Just asking the question is food for thought. Observe as the unsuspecting pedestrian stares at a smartphone, oblivious to the world and people around him. See children at restaurants playing video games on laptops, detached from all conversations, hypnotized by pixels.

Scenes like these should give us pause for thought.

In his real-life experiment, Brende shows that life with reduced technology can help alleviate stress and increase our enjoyment of life. 

Brende gives practical tips on ways to minimize the dominance of technology in day to day living. Oh, by the way, he does practice what he preaches. Currently Eric and his family live in St. Louis, Missouri where he earns money driving a pedal-powered rickshaw taxi and makes soap.

Read this book. You will be better off for the time invested.