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Page 1: Liberty + vine Magazine

volume one | issue one

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AUGUST 2012

IN THIS ISSUE

Who We Are

Contact Us

My Take: You Never Really Run Alone | Jennifer Scroggins

Keep It Simple: Clean Out Your Home,

Mind, and Soul | Susan Vogt

Pop Culture: Blame It on Andy |

Christopher Heffron

Reel Time: “To Rome With Love” | Christopher Heffron

Black + White + Read All Over: “Abraham Lincoln:

Vampire Hunter” | Kathleen M. Carroll

Channel Surfing: When Reality Television Gets It Right | Christopher Heffron

At Home on the Farm | Carol Ann Morrow Where faith and family meet

More Than Mere Food | Diane M. Houdek

It’s Easy Being Green | Christopher Heffron

Your faith and the environment

In the News | Rachel Zawila

Did You Know?: Can Catholics Celebrate

Weddings Outside? | Pat McCloskey, ofm

Questions about faith

Inspiring Lives: St. Augustine and St. Helena | Kathleen M. Carroll

Saints Among Us: Clark Massey | Judy Zarick

Parting Words

Page 2: Liberty + vine Magazine

My Take_________________________________

J E N N I F E R S C R O G G I N S

You Never Really Run Alone

Even when you’re not running with a

partner, and it feels like it’s just you and

the road, you’re always part of a great big

community of supporters.

That’s one of the first lessons you learn

when you take up the sport: runners love

other runners. They love to talk about

running, think about running, blog about

running, and then listen to other people

talk about running.

If you’re training for “only” a 5K, an

experienced marathoner will cheer you

every step of the way. She’ll advise you on

your mileage, your shoes, your pre-race

breakfast—you name it.

It doesn’t matter how fast (or not) you

might be. It doesn’t matter what kind

of fancy (or not) gear you use. All that

matters to one runner is that you also

are a runner and, thus, you are forever

connected by the power of the pavement.

Running is a sport of great equalizers.

The best runners in the world can be

sidetracked by injury or illness just as

easily as a neighborhood jogger can be.

In any race, every runner has to battle

the same course and the same weather,

whether it’s extreme heat, bitter cold, or

even the occasional spray of hail.

There’s a unity in the battle of running.

No matter the circumstances, we’re

always racing against ourselves, fighting

our body’s desire to stop and our mind’s

doubts and disbeliefs. As often as we think

we can’t, we know we must—and we

know we will.

The power in that determination bridges

the gaps between male and female, young

and old, fast and slow. It even can bridge

the philosophical and social gaps that tear

us apart on a global political level.

Never more was that evident to me than

in the Jerusalem Marathon on March 16,

2012, when a Catholic from Kenya won

an event that featured runners from 50

different countries—including a woman

running through the streets of Jerusalem in

a shirt that said “Palestine.”

David Cherono Toniok won the race

in a course-record 2:19:52 and told the

Jewish Telegraphic Agency news service

that, as a devout Catholic, he was thrilled

to have his first marathon win happen in

Jerusalem.

Toniok covered the 26.2 miles in about

a minute less than it took me to complete

the half-marathon that day.

Yet we are the same. We both set out that

morning to conquer hills, wind, rain, and,

yes, even sporadic hail.

I can’t prove it, but I say with certainty

that we both worried about the weather;

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Page 3: Liberty + vine Magazine

obsessed over what to eat and when;

arrived at the start of our races with a mix

of excitement, dread, curiosity, and nerves;

and took off knowing that no matter what

happened, the result would be ours and

ours alone to revel in or to regret.

I suspect we both spent countless hours

after the race dissecting every detail with

our friends and plotting ways to do better

the next time out. And I’m willing to bet

that if I ever met Toniok, we’d have no

problem striking up conversations about

everything from energy gels and hydration

to pre-race routines and superstitions.

Runners love other runners. The

camaraderie is genuine, and the support is

heartfelt.

The bond of the community grows

stronger with each step its members take,

and newcomers are welcomed with open

arms (and plenty of free advice).

It’s a powerful thing to call yourself a

runner. It means something. Other people

see it and wonder: Could I do that? Am I

strong enough? Do I have what it takes?

The answer, of course, is yes. It won’t

always be easy, but there always will be

another runner along the way when you

need encouragement and inspiration. The

community will be there, accepting you for

all your fears, struggles, and foibles, and

celebrating your milestones and successes.

Running has been likened to a religion,

and there’s ample reason to affirm that

analogy.

At its best, the Catholic Church resembles

the scene at a road race, with crowds of

runners and their families and friends

cheering and supporting one another from

start to finish.

Every shape, size, race, and class can be

seen, and we all have a unique story to tell

about how we got to the start line in the

first place and how our journey is going.

Some miles, we feel great! We’re cruising

along, thankful to be enjoying the sights

and sounds and the strength of our bodies.

But seemingly in an instant, we can grow

tired and discouraged and we need a

partner to help us keep trudging toward

the finish.

At its best, the Catholic Church prepares

us well for the race, and we share our

insights and passion with one another

along the way. As runners love other

runners, so we love each member of our

faith community. And as runners love

to talk about running, so we are moved

to share the beauty of Catholicism with

everyone we encounter.

Both running and religion boil down

to belief. They’re about learning to trust

our training and push ourselves from our

comfort zones to reach the bigger goals

to which we aspire. We acknowledge

the difficulties with the understanding

that every run is a good run—part of the

process of growth—no matter how we

judged it when we were in the moment.

We know that every step we take is

made in faith and that we never really

run alone. +

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Page 4: Liberty + vine Magazine

Pop Culture _________________________________

C H R I S T O P H E R H E F F R O N

Blame It on Andy

Perhaps no other celebrity in history has

been a greater champion of pop culture

than Mr. Warhol. From that alabaster-

white wig, to the oversized sunglasses

that could shame an Olsen twin, to the

monosyllabic way he communicated,

Warhol was the birth father of the modern

pop culture movement. And nowhere was

his keen understanding of it on greater

display than in his art.Who else could

take a bland design concept like a can

of Campbell’s soup and reinvent it as

something wholly new and stimulating?

Who else could turn a sultry Marilyn

Monroe into a punk-rock painted lady?

Warhol just got it.

Thanks to that modern miracle—

television—pop culture satisfies our

collective sweet tooth every day. And

we’ve never been hungrier. Browsing a

used bookstore recently, I passed a shelf

of random titles. Nestled in between

Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged and Truman

Capote’s In Cold Blood was (are you

sitting?) Snooki’s bestseller, A Shore Thing.

But I wasn’t disgusted. I should have been,

but I wasn’t. I was proud of that girl for

using her 15 minutes to conquer every

conceivable medium at her tanned and tiny

fingertips. (Yes, I bought a copy. It was $3.

Leave me alone.)

But pop culture is more than 4-foot-9,

Chilean-born reality stars (though I

wouldn’t hate it if it weren’t). It’s about

flavor. It’s about fun. Pop culture doesn’t

demean. It entertains as it informs. It can

take the shape of MC Hammer’s parachute

pants, or Linda Blair’s pea-green projectiles

in The Exorcist, or Jennifer Aniston’s coif

on Friends. Pop culture takes a snapshot of

the world in which we live—even as that

world rapidly changes.

Life would be just a Campbell’s soup can

without it. +

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Page 5: Liberty + vine Magazine

At Home on the Farm_________________________________

C A R O L A N N M O R R O W

On his family’s 27-acre farm in Indiana, Kyle Kramer connects faith and farming—for everyone.

Photo by Krista Hall/The Herald

themselves to the complexities of living

simply.

Kyle and Cyndi Kramer live with their

three small children—8-year-old twins

Eva and Clare and 5-year-old Eli—in

a home Kyle built largely by himself.

They use solar power, a cistern, and

firewood they harvest from their

woods. The Kramers grind their own

grains, buying them in bulk.

Kyle later jokes that their wedding

gifts included a grain mill and other

practicalities seldom found on

bridal registries! Their cozy home is

furnished with substantial pieces that

Kyle has crafted, complemented with

hand-me-downs. Their home is airy

and pleasant, even on a mid-August

afternoon. Their dogs, Bella and Lulu,

bark at me without menace. I sniff the

promise of both bread and soup.

Acres of Life Lessons

Why make this journey off the beaten

path? I want to see the earthy outdoor

classroom in which Kyle learned Life

Lessons in Work, Prayer, and Dirt,

the subtitle of his 2010 book, A Time

to Plant. I want to walk the land Kyle

bought in 1999 and visit the pole barn

he raised that fall and lived in for four

years. I want to see the home that the

imminent arrival of twins spurred on.

Lastly, I want readers to discover

with me whether the youthful author

has harvested further life lessons as he

balances family, a 40-hour workweek

at a Benedictine abbey, 27 acres of

formerly abused farmland, and an

idealistic calling to trace the threads

that bind his Catholic faith to his

“vocation of location.”

In the first chapter of A Time to Plant,

Kyle wrote, “My calling was to a life

whose exterior might seem small and

insignificant but that cultivated an

interior spaciousness and centeredness.

I wanted a life that was grounded in

acts of justice and awareness of divine

mercy, a life connected intimately

to other people and to the rest of

creation.” Toward the end of the book,

he speaks more of “vulnerability,

weakness, and need.” That trajectory

continues to unfold in his life.

Genesis Organic Farm’s precise location

isn’t available by satellite today, farmer

and author Kyle Kramer is pleased

to report. Incredulous, I consult

MapQuest. Beyond the interstate, its

directions always hedge—“If you

reach . . . , you’ve gone too far.” Two

state roads and three county roads

later, I have avoided going “too far,”

though some might wonder if the

Kramers have by planting themselves in

rural southern Indiana and committing

Page 6: Liberty + vine Magazine

Kyle and I take a look at the edges

of Genesis Organic Farm, while he

explains the evolution his family’s

ambitions are experiencing. First, they

have expanded their focus beyond

organic to what he calls “regenerative”

farming. Second, they are decreasing

their focus on market crops so there’s

more time for reflection, family,

writing, and relationship to the wider

community.

As we walk the land, Kyle feeds the

chickens, gathers eggs, and introduces

me to Fluffy, a decidedly unfluffy

rooster. An anonymous and annoying

barnyard dictator, Fluffy was headed

for an early death—until the twins

christened him in protest. Fluffy

personifies the tension the Kramers

experience between stripping away and

engagement.

Health and Character

What exactly is regenerative farming?

Kyle explains: he and Cyndi are moving

toward no-till crops such as nut and

fruit trees, berries, and perennial

vegetables such as asparagus. Tilling

releases carbon into the air, and that

contributes a lot to farming’s carbon

footprint, as does the use of the tractor,

Kyle explains. He and Cyndi want to

follow nature’s lead.

“Mother Nature Doesn’t Till. She

Mulches.”

That observation has prompted another

practice at Genesis Organic Farm.

“We’re trying to generate on-farm

fertility, not import it from somewhere

else.” The Kramers harvest their hay

for mulch, encouraging the richness of

their own soil, rather than importing

soil amendments from someone else’s

land. Because of their commitment to

this specific place, they are trying to

heal its soil, respect its woodlands, and

maximize its potential to thrive over

the long haul.

“After all,” Kyle says, “if I ruin this

place, it’s ruined for me. I’m not going

to move elsewhere. . . . I can’t escape

the consequences. This is our place of

sustenance.”

When Kyle was discerning the life

choices that led him to this Indiana

farmland, he sought the counsel of

Wendell Berry, the distinguished

Kentucky farmer, author, and activist.

Berry encourages small-scale, practical

action inspired by broad knowledge

and informed principles. It is obvious

that Berry has influenced Kyle and

Cyndi profoundly. Kyle cites Berry’s

belief that a farm’s most important

products are the health of the soil and

the character of the farmer.

So, while Farmer Kramer nourishes

his soil and seeks to improve it, the

husband and father also cultivates

his inner life. Despite a self-described

tendency to brood and obsess, Papa

Kramer chooses to nurture and be

nurtured by family. While Cyndi

keeps the three children entertained

in another room after dinner, their

laughter erupts often and little Eli

escapes several times to crawl on his

papa’s lap and distract him. After all,

this is the evening, when the family

often plays guitar and sings, and it isn’t

happening—yet!

“God created us in the image of

belonging and connection,” says Kyle,

who sees both as very particular, with

no pious generalities. So, while he

is a man of prayer, he still splits the

firewood, lets the chickens out, and

gets the kids to school on his way to

work. At Saint Meinrad, a Benedictine

seminary, graduate school of theology,

and publishing house, Kyle is director

of lay ministry programs.

Kyle sees a strong resonance between

the abbey and the farm, however. Both

are about “the work of belonging,” he

says. “While I shepherd people through

a graduate theological degree program,

ultimately what we’re doing is building

community. We’re sending healing

agents out into community. And that’s

what [Genesis Farm] is about, too. It’s

about belonging and healing.”

For his wife, belonging has come at

a price. She is not a native Hoosier,

and she says, “Finding kindred spirits

in a rural area is not so easy.” Just

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Page 7: Liberty + vine Magazine

as her husband has wrestled with

balance and challenge, so has she. “I’m

learning how to be more practical and

grounded, as my tendency is to live in

the world of ideas.” That groundedness

is a daily effort.

Belonging and Healing

Belonging is integral to Benedictine

spirituality, as Kyle learned in his work

at the abbey. Monks take a vow of

stability. Essentially, Kyle and Cyndi

have taken this vow as well. But

Francis of Assisi also inspires Kyle.

“Francis laughed. Francis showed

people that the kind of life he was

living was not only satisfying and right,

but joyful and happy,” he says.

While “moral outrage, anger, and

desire” drew the youthful idealist to

a life rooted in nature, “what’s grown

in me is a sense of affection for people

and places.” He adds, “I fall in love

with God though the particulars.

. . . God created us in the image of

belonging and connection.”

After attending to place, however,

people need to help with the healing.

Action follows attention. Kyle and

Cyndi have, predictably, given that

careful, prayerful thought in their

home, as well as on their land. “I don’t

see a lot of distinction between our

economic life and our spiritual life.

Every economic decision is a moral

decision. The authentic life of Christian

discipleship would be a life that is

simpler and more mindful. It would be

less ambitious and more communal.”

For the Kramers, that includes

bartering for services, giving of

their harvest and their talents, and

participating in the wider community.

They know their neighbors by name

and by need. They are ministers of

music in their small parish.

What about the Global Village?

It seems obvious that not everyone

can move to a farm. But what can the

typical suburbanite or city dweller do

to heal the earth, live more simply, and

cultivate a sense of belonging?

“An ideal scenario for me,” says Kyle,

“is that we have more people on the

land, with smaller acreages, and that

there be stronger partnerships between

people who live in cities or towns and

those who are in rural areas. To be

honest, we need each other. . . .

People who live in cities need to find

ways to reconnect with nature. They

need to know where their food comes

from. They need food, period!”

The larger question, perhaps, observes

Kyle, is, “How do we belong in our

places?” The answer, he thinks, is,

“First, you make a commitment. This

is where I am. . . . You start being

attentive to the place and its needs

and its limitations. You inhabit it in a

healing way. . . . You pay attention well

enough to know what is the proper

scale. What can this land support?

Whom can this land support? In what

form or fashion? With what lifestyle?

“I would be thrilled if someone read

my book and said, ‘I’m going to live

on my little suburban lot and I’m going

to plant fruit trees and put in a little

garden and grow as much food as I

can to eat and share.’ Or if someone

in the city said, ‘I’m not going to move

out. But I am going to take this vacant

lot next door and begin a garden.’ Or,

‘I’m going to grow tomatoes on the

balcony.’ To me, the issue is less about

whether you’re in the country or the

city, but it’s more the relationship you

have with your place—and with the

people in your place.”

Paradise Is Still Ahead

Kyle wants the world to know that he

and his family aren’t living in paradise.

“This is a hard life, and I’ve got

calluses inside and out. But it’s a real

life.”

And real life has its rewards. “What’s

been most satisfying is that, however

imperfectly and falteringly we do it, we

do belong here. We have a place in the

world, and it’s a place made and held

by grace.” +

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