Cover Story Fr. Richard Kropf lives alone in the woods, in a cabin he built himself. He spends his days praying, writing and working. He spends his nights gazing at the stars. Find out how this diocesan priest serves God in solitude. Alone with God ­ Fr. Richard's life as a hermit By Bob Horning
	Feature Terry and Andy Rabideau used natural family planning to help them conceive. Find out how NFP can help bring a bundle of joy into the world. A bundle of joy that came naturally By Marybeth Hicks
	Feature Stephen Gruber is a cancer researcher who's tracking down the roots of a deadly disease. His scientific quest around the world has intensified his faith. Find out why. When worlds collide ­ meet a scientist who relies on faith By Maragaret Ann Cross
	Culture Find out how to feed bodies ­ and souls - with this gardening project Garden for giving By Patricia Majher
	Exclusive A friend asked my advice a couple of weeks ago. Her son was getting Instant Messages from a classmate containing words usually found on the inside of bathroom stalls Instant Messaging the bane of my parental existance By Heidi Hess Saxton

Alone with God
the life of a hermit
By Bob Horning | Photography by James Luning

Since 1981, Fr. Richard Kropf has lived alone deep in the woods in Montmorency County, northeast of Gaylord, along Michigan’s Cheboygan Black River. Born in Milwaukee in 1932, he was ordained a priest for the Diocese of Lansing in 1958. After seven years of parish work, he returned to school to earn a doctorate in theology. Following a number of years teaching in colleges in the Lansing and Detroit areas, he sought permission to live as a hermit. He built his own cabin and took permanent vows under Bishop Povish’s supervision for that state of life, according to the rules set by the Code of Canon Law. Now he prays, writes, does manual labor, helps the local bishop by serving in emergencies in parishes, and occasionally emerges to talk to the rest of us.

[I don’t] really [get lonely]. My upbringing as an only child, with frequent moves around the country (10 different schools by the end of 12th grade), probably helped prepare me for living in solitude. By the way, a hermit is one who lives in the desert or wilderness, and an anchorite is one who lives completely in solitude. I am both.

I center my day around the Divine Office of the church and the Eucharist. I begin before dawn with matins, interspersed with periods of meditation after each reading, then morning prayer (lauds) and the celebration of the Eucharist in the chapel built into my cabin’s loft. I then try to divide the rest of the day equally between intellectual work and physical work or exercise.

“In the evening, I recite vespers and spend at least a half an hour in silent prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. One of the advantages of living alone is that if the Spirit is moving me to pray, rather than eat, I won’t upset someone else’s schedule. I keep my evening meals simple, often just a large salad, while I listen to the evening news. I try to do some more serious reading in the evenings.

“Until my senior year in high school, I had expected to go into engineering like my father. However, reading Thomas Merton’s autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, began drawing me to contemplative life. After some years of parish work, I made a private retreat at Gethsemani Abbey in Kentucky, where Merton (the novice director) urged me to seek further education, but predicted I would eventually end up in contemplative life. Fifteen years later, after making an intensive Ignatian retreat, I took the final step. By then I was close to 50 years old and realized that life is too short to keep putting off what you feel ultimately called to do.

I’m not completely isolated. I have good friends who live about a mile-and-a-half away. Once a week, I make a trip into town to pick up my mail, groceries and other necessities. I’m also in contact with others through e-mail. I even do a bit of spiritual direction through e-mail. I occasionally see other priests and the bishop, usually when I attend priests’ convocations or similar events. Every year or so, I try to attend the annual meeting of the Catholic Theological Society of America.

The best thing I experience [about life alone] is a contentment that is so intense that I sometimes feel guilty about it, especially in comparison to all those parish priests whose life I consider to be just a little short of heroic – having known from firsthand experience how demanding it is.

The hardest thing about my life is feeling misunderstood. Many Christians seem to have no use for solitaries in the body of Christ. Others, especially traditional Catholics, also have their stereotypes of what a hermit should be like, and are probably scandalized to find out I have indoor plumbing or a telephone or a car. On the other hand, I have no question about the rarity of my vocation. In fact, I thank God that only a few priests seem called in this direction. Otherwise, the church would be in bad shape.

I find God most readily by trying to cultivate a sense of his presence in all things. I’m not a natural mystic, so this is not easy for me. My training as an academic gives me the tendency to “live in my head.” I have to counteract this by prayer that is as silent and wordless as possible, usually before the Blessed Sacrament – and by the silent contemplation of nature on its most vast scale. We need a balance of seeing God in everything and at the same time, seeing God as above everything. A verse I often find myself repeating is Acts 17:28, “In him we live and move and have our being.” To me, this truth could be the foundation of all spirituality and sanctity would be constantly acting in accord with it.

Since I used to do a lot of hunting and fishing, I’ve always been keenly aware of wildlife. But as the years have passed, I have become more intent on photographing, rather than killing, animals – and have become more or less a vegetarian while at home. I am less inclined to want to eat animals that I see every day. This is especially true of the deer and elk. Besides, what would I do with a whole elk? I also occasionally see coyotes; foxes; bobcats; otters; beavers and even, but rarely, a bear. There also are, besides smaller birds, partridge, turkeys, ravens, hawks and an occasional eagle.

My study of nature has taught me that nothing in this world is permanent, and, according to the latest findings of science, not even the universe itself. For some people, the universe has become ultimate reality and ecology or environmentalism a substitute for religion. Seeing the universe as temporary protects against that view. On the other hand, we have reached a point where man has become capable of destroying our world. As Christians who see ourselves as being placed on earth for a distinct purpose, we have a special obligation to care for the earth.

During my first 10 years in solitude, I resisted having a TV, but began to realize I was missing quite a bit that might be beneficial to my reflection and writing. I still will watch nothing that isn’t the quality of PBS (in fact, that is the only channel my set receives clearly). It was because of a PBS feature on amateur astronomy and telescope making that I decided to build an observatory.

The telescope-making adventure led to the study of cosmology – the science of the origin, characteristics and future of the universe. Cosmology, as they say, “blew my mind.” I had long been a student of the writings of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the controversial Jesuit paleontologist who upset many Catholics with his speculations on the relationship between Christianity and evolutionary science. It was only after I began my own hands-on study of the universe that I began to understand some of the further-reaching concerns of Teilhard’s thought – particularly the relationship between Christ and the rest of the universe, and the still unclosed gap between religion and science.

I want my theological activity to be an outgrowth of living a contemplative life, much as has been the pattern in Eastern Christianity. I’m convinced that my primary vocation must be first and foremost to seek and achieve union with God to the greatest extent possible in this life – not just for myself, but also for the sake of the church.

I feel most a part of the church when I celebrate the Eucharist, which never can be just my Mass, but an offering made in union with the whole church.

I pray mostly for priests and bishops and those who ask me to remember them in my prayer; but always for peace in the world, and for the effectiveness of the church as an instrument of peace and reconciliation.

I’m open to sharing my insights through retreats or workshops, providing they don’t call me out of solitude too often or for too long. But other than that, I believe to be a true anchorite, one must stay “anchored.” That’s not hard to do when you live in a natural paradise.

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Hermit? Anchorite? What’s that?

Fr. Richard Kropf describes himself as a hermit and anchorite. Although the words are used virtually synonymously today, there are some slight differences. “Hermit” derives from the Greek word, eremite, meaning “living in the desert.” From the earliest days of Christianity, men and women have been called to live apart in contemplation, imitating Christ’s 40 days of solitude at the beginning of his public ministry. Originally, hermits withdrew to the desert, while anchorites lived in cells that were part of churches or near population centers. Julian of Norwich is an example of a famous anchorite.

Although Fr. Kropf’s lifestyle is not typical of a diocesan priest’s vocation, it does demonstrate the rich diversity with which God calls each of us. For more information about this or other vocations, contact the Office of Vocation Services at 517.342.2506.

A bundle of joy that came naturally –
how NFP made Terry and Andy’s
dream of a family come true
By Marybeth Hicks | Photography by Tom Gennara

Joseph Andrew Rabideau cries softly as his mother settles in the chair to talk on the phone. His tiny voice and tender touch belie the enormous amount of time and attention he requires.

“But it’s all worth it,” says his mom, Terry. “He’s wonderful.”

Terry and Andy Rabideau are adjusting to the sleepless life of first-time parents since Joseph arrived on the scene in October 2004. But their journey to parenthood included a rough patch – emotional highs and lows that made them wonder, for a time, if God planned a family for them.

Fortunately, their longing for a child was fulfilled through Natural Family Planning (NFP).

Terry was 27 and Andy 37 when they met and married in 2002. Their first date – Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament followed by dinner with family members and a card game – launched a brief and beautiful courtship. “We both knew right away we would get married,” Terry recalls.

“I had been doing missionary work in Mexico and Andy was living and working in California, but we each felt called to return to Michigan for no particular reason,” Terry says. “After we had both moved back to town, a sister-in-law set us up on a date.”

Within a few weeks of their first meeting, Terry and Andy became engaged – on Valentine’s Day. They were married in October at St. Augustine’s in Howell. They settled in Howell where they joined Holy Spirit Parish in Hamburg.

“We were open to children right away,” Terry says. Having taken the NFP course prior to marrying, the couple incorporated the daily practice of tracking Terry’s physical signals to achieve pregnancy.

“I assumed I would get pregnant easily,” she says. “My cycles were regular and I thought we’d have no problems.” But after six months, she began to worry about infertility.

According to Rita Michaels, R.N., director of the Lansing Diocese office for NFP, overcoming infertility is an important reason to use the system. “NFP helps a couple understand the woman’s monthly cycle, and the system can be used to achieve or avoid pregnancy,” Rita says. “The majority of women in NFP classes have no idea of the normal cycle of symptoms that signal fertility. They have a general knowledge of menstruation, but not of the extraordinary way God created that signals fertility.”

Rita runs the NFP Ministry for the diocese, which now includes a mandatory introduction to the system for engaged couples. Most couples think of NFP as a way to plan and space children. Less obvious is the system’s ability to help couples experiencing infertility.

“Rather than race toward invasive procedures and therapies, NFP offers a safe, natural starting point to determine if fertility is a problem,” Rita says.

The Rabideaus did just that. After tracking Terry’s cycles for several months, they determined a more thorough medical check was necessary. Terry was a patient of Caritas Center in Ann Arbor, an obstetric and gynecological practice whose mission is to support the Gospel values of life.

Terry’s physician, Dr. Lorna Cvetkovich, found that Terry suffered from mild endometriosis, a condition characterized by endometrial tissue growing outside the uterus. Dr. Cvetkovich removed the excess tissue and encouraged Terry and Andy to keep trying to conceive using NFP.

“Sure enough, I was pregnant within six months, just as she predicted,” Terry says. Sadly, her first pregnancy ended at 11 weeks in a miscarriage, a devastating blow to the hopeful couple.

After recovering for a month, Terry and Andy were eager to try to become pregnant again. But another six months passed, prompting Terry to make a follow-up appointment with Dr. Cvetkovich.

“We were just about to go in for a series of tests ... but I had a sense I might be pregnant,” Terry says. Terry and Andy conducted two home pregnancy tests and discovered they were expecting. “It was Valentine’s Day again, only this time we were celebrating the news that I was pregnant.”

“I was a nervous wreck up to a point,” Terry says, recalling her failed first pregnancy. “I trusted God that it would be all right, but I was afraid.” Morning sickness reassured Terry that her pregnancy was going along normally.

The Rabideaus’ path to parenthood was a spiritual one. “God really helped me to understand that it didn’t depend on us, it depended on him,” Terry says of her desire to have children. “I struggled with saying ‘Your will be done,’ because I wanted his will to be mine.” Terry says her husband helped her grow in trust and faith as she waited for God to answer her prayer.

As a husband, Andy spent many months watching as his wife worried and waited. “When you love someone, it hurts to watch her go through all of this and not be able to do anything directly – just pray.” Andy says he felt many emotions along the way, from frustration to confidence.

Now that he’s a father, Andy is learning to adapt to the changes little Joseph has brought to their family. “I love fatherhood, but it’s a big change. Prior to being married, I traveled quite a bit. It’s different to get used to being at home more – and to operating on less sleep.”

Rita Michaels believes NFP is a tool that gives couples not only an avenue to planning and achieving pregnancy, but also a way for greater intimacy and love in marriage. “Couples can go through so much stress on the road to having a child. NFP offers a way to understand God’s extraordinary gift of reproduction and the miracle of new life.”

For the Rabideaus, that miracle is Joseph.

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For more information about Natural Family Planning, contact the Office of Catholic Charities at 517.342.2587 or visit the Web at www.ccli.org

FAITH spoke with Stephen Gruber, M.D., Ph.D. from his sabbatical in Barcelona, Spain, where he is tracking down ancient genes for colon cancer. Dr. Gruber is associate professor of internal medicine, epidemiology and human genetics at the University of Michigan. He is also the director of the university’s Cancer Genetics Clinic. His wife, Robin, and their three daughters are spending this year in Spain with him.

I am a physician-scientist at the University of Michigan. I am a medical oncologist as well as a cancer geneticist, so I divide my time between taking care of patients and cancer genetic research. In my line of research, what I try to understand is inherited susceptibility to cancer and ways in which cancer can be prevented.

Specifically, I have been working on two cancers primarily: colorectal cancer and melanoma. One of the things that we are trying to do is to understand both genetic and environmental contributions to colon cancer. We discovered a gene for colorectal cancer among Ashkenazi Jews and a lot is already known about how screening, diet and medications can help prevent colon cancer. So I developed a study with collaborators in Israel to look at this particular gene, which is quite common among individuals of Jewish descent. In fact, 6 percent of all Jews from Eastern Europe carry this particular gene. This work led me to Israel, where we just completed a five-year study of more than 4,000 people. Traveling to Israel every year for the past seven years has given me an extraordinary opportunity to understand this region as a scientist and as a Catholic.

What was striking was how different things were from the way I had pictured them. The Sea of Galilee is a modest-sized lake. And the Jordan River is a simple creek. I had this imposing impression of the mighty Jordan, but the reality is quite different. Yet these places are profoundly meaningful in our faith. In some respects, it’s like science. Casual impressions don’t always capture the complexity of fundamental truths of nature.

From a scientific perspective, one of the things we discovered about this particular gene is that a mutation arose somewhere between 900 B.C. and about 195 B.C. And we also found that the same mutation was identified in populations other than Jewish populations. For example, we found it in Arab and Hispanic populations.

That led me to Spain, where there was formerly a very large Jewish population and now there is a very small Jewish population, following the Spanish Inquisition. But we are looking for the residual genetic signature to find out how much these particular mutations account for colorectal cancer in Spain. I am working with a research institute here, the Catalonian Institute of Oncology.

Another line of research that I’m particularly proud of is work done by another one of my graduate students. Jen Poynter is a Ph.D. student, and a fellow parishioner at St. Francis of Assisi in Ann Arbor, who asked the question about whether a certain class of drugs commonly taken to lower cholesterol might also reduce the risk of cancer. We found these drugs were associated with a nearly 50-percent reduction in the risk of colorectal cancer. Jen presented this work at a meeting in June in front of more than 10,000 physicians and scientists. More work is required before we can move these results into clinical practice, but it’s a pretty exciting finding. I’m pleased with the work, but what I’m most proud of is helping nurture a superb scientist.

My faith has grown while I have been [in Spain]. It has developed not only because I’ve had more time to think about things, but also because it has given us an opportunity to have more focused family time. And our faith is a very important part of our family. It has also been fulfilling because my wife joined the church last spring at Easter – after we had been attending Mass together for 25 years. So, to be able to celebrate the Eucharist, with her fully participating each week at Mass, has been a wonderful element of what we do here.

As a physician, I rely on faith when I interact with patients, though it is rarely explicit. I pray for all of my patients, but I only tell some of them. When a patient shares their faith with me, I don’t hesitate to share mine as well. But it is only appropriate when a patient seeks that in the physician-patient relationship. As a medical oncologist, I have sadly seen many patients die of cancer. Death and dying are not easy things to deal with – for patients, families or physicians. Faith provides us with a way to help think those issues through that science and medicine can’t. I had a really good example in my father. He is a physician, and he didn’t hesitate to allow his faith to inform his practice.

I am fortunate that, in my role as a cancer geneticist, I help families try to understand how to minimize the risk of cancer when a gene is passed down through the family. Prenatal counseling rarely enters the discussion and when it does, it is important to provide advice that is consistent with the teachings of the church. We live in a rich and diverse culture that values and respects many traditions, so my faith is understood and respected by my colleagues. I am not put in a position where I would be asked to do something that would conflict with my faith.

Science has an extraordinary capacity to advance human understanding. It’s a gift to mankind. But I’ve never seen a good scientific description of love and I know what love is. That is something I don’t think anyone could accomplish through science. That’s what faith does for me. I see true love every day when I look at my wife. I see true love every day when I hold my children. And I see true love every week at Mass.

Student parishes and campus ministries provide rich resources for your faith to inform your education. For more information, contact:

St. Mary Student Parish (UofM) at 734.663.0557,

garden for giving
feed the soul as you feed the body
with wholesome fruits and vegetables

The phrase “planting a seed” can have many meanings. There’s the literal one – the act of putting something in the soil. But there’s also a figurative meaning – that of introducing an idea.

The volunteers at the sustainable garden of St. Francis Parish in Ann Arbor do a little bit of both. “Ever since we founded the garden [in 2000], we’ve had two purposes for it,” explains coordinator Tracy Nagy. “We wanted to show people that it’s possible to garden in an environmentally friendly way. And we wanted to give something to those who are less fortunate.”

A local nursery school, established to provide day care and educational services for the children of single parents, was chosen as the fortunate recipient of the garden’s bounty. “The school staff uses the fruits and vegetables to prepare meals and snacks for the kids,” says Nagy. “What’s left over is set out for the parents to take, free of charge, as they need it.”

About 120 pounds of organically grown food were harvested and donated last year. And all that was needed to make this happen was a core group of three or four “regulars,” joined by five or six others who helped on special work days in the spring, mid-summer and fall.

“With each of us donating just one or two hours a week, we were able to accomplish a lot,” affirms Nagy. “And the school really appreciated our efforts.”

“They call us their ‘vegetable ladies,’” she adds with a smile.

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think you might want to set up a “garden for
giving” at your parish? Here are a few suggestions to make the process easier.

Start Small
The first thing you should do, advises Nagy, is to start with a modest plot of land and see what your group of volunteers can handle. In St. Francis’ case, the garden – which was carved out of the side yard of the parish rectory – measures just 20 feet by 25 feet.

Till the Soil Sensitively
The next step is to prepare the soil for planting. If you want to follow St. Francis’ example, you’ll use spades and other human-powered tools and skip the gas-powered polluters.

Plant Something Easy
At first, you should sow seeds for those things that are quick to sprout, like carrots and radishes. That way your volunteers can almost immediately see the fruit – or vegetable – of their labors. “Zucchini and tomatoes are rewarding, too,” says Nagy, “because they just keep on producing.”

Invite the Bugs in
Even if you’re not interested in taking the organic approach, you can still plant herbs and flowers that will attract the insects that eat “bad” insects or assist in pollinating the plants. “Fennel, chives, and basil are good for this,” Nagy recommends.

Keep the Animals out
After you’ve tilled the garden and planted your seeds, it’s a good idea to erect a pest-proof fence. Otherwise, Nagy warns, you’ll be sharing your produce with the local wildlife. “We fattened up quite a few rabbits the first year.” Chicken wire, supported by poles at the corners, is an inexpensive option. And a scarecrow never hurts.

Amend the Soil
Last, but not least, enrich the soil with fertilizer or compost to boost the producing power of each plant. And of course, pray for good weather. “We had to work hard to overcome last year’s wet spring,” Nagy says.

Savor Your Successes
The end of each growing season is a good time to review what worked and didn’t work and make notes for the coming year. In 2004, the St. Francis group learned a lesson about a certain slender green vegetable. “Watch out for celery. It’s self-seeding and aggressive. We spent most of our fall work session digging it back out of the soil.” St. Francis has also opted to make their garden financially self-sustaining. To this end, the volunteers conduct a seed sale every spring and fall. A stipend from the parish's Peace and Social Justice Committee helps cover additional expenses. “When it comes right down to it, all the garden really costs us is time,” Nagy explained, “and we willingly give that in service to others.”

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suggested plants
to reap and sow

Below is a list of the fruits, vegetables, flowers, and herbs that the St. Francis group has successfully planted in its garden. This list may be adapted to various regions and climates:

Basil, Beans, Beets, Black-eyed susans, Blanket flowers, Cabbage, Celery, Chives, Collard greens, Cosmos, Cucumbers, Dill, Garlic, Kale, Leeks, Lettuce, Marigolds, Morning glories, Nasturtiums, Onions, Peppers, Radishes, Shasta daisies, Spaghetti squash, Spinach, Strawberries, Sunflowers, Swiss chard, Tomatoes and Zucchini