Don't Knock the Miraculous

[Denise]

MORE THAN STRANGE COINCIDENCES
Modern Catholics: Don't Knock the Miraculous Medal!

June 2001By Mitchell Kalpakgian

Mitchell Kalpakgian, who formerly taught at Christendom College and Simpson College, is a tutor at Magdalen College in Warner, New Hampshire. He is the author of The Mysteries of Life in Children's Literature (Neumann Press), and his writings have appeared in Culture Wars, Homiletic & Pastoral Review, and The Catholic Faith.

When I was teaching English at Christendom College in Front Royal, Virginia, I received a telephone call one evening in early June 1992 from close friends in Iowa, Frank and Jane Ellen Colella. As we exchanged news, Jane Ellen mentioned Frank's recent visit to France with other faculty and students from Simpson College (where Frank is a professor of economics). On a spontaneous excursion that was not scheduled on the itinerary, Frank had meandered to the Chapel of the Miraculous Medal on the Rue de Bac in Paris where the body of St. Catherine Labouré lies incorrupt. Frank remembered his visit to the chapel as the highlight of his tour of Paris, and he purchased several of the Miraculous Medals at the gift shop for family members.

Frank's experience had piqued my interest in this particular saint who, compared to the more famous saints I had studied (Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Francis de Sales), was relatively unknown to me. In fact, I felt somewhat guilty and embarrassed at my ignorance and told myself that I needed to learn more about her life.

A few days afterwards, I visited the Seton Home School, also in Front Royal, to collect English tests and papers that I was grading for part-time work. On one of the desks I noticed Mary Fabyan Windeatt's biography of the saint, published by TAN Books. Even though it was a simple children's version of St. Catherine Labouré's life, I felt compelled to read it, and asked for permission from Mrs. Mary Kay Clark, director of the Seton Home School, to borrow the book.

Immediately engaged and spellbound, I read the book in a few sittings. I admired the simple, modest, pious life of St. Catherine's parents, their generosity in raising a large family with small means, and their great love of the Catholic faith, which they transmitted in all its fullness to each of their children. When I read about the visitations of the Blessed Mother to Catherine when she was in her religious order, the Daughters of Charity, and then read of all the cures and miracles effected by the Miraculous Medal, I felt an overwhelming desire to acquire such a medal. The powerful image of the Blessed Mother with beams of light radiating from her outstretched hands to symbolize the abundant graces that Christ dispenses through His holy mother's Immaculate Heart stamped itself upon my memory as indelibly as it was impressed upon the medal. As I finished the book, the message of the Blessed Mother to St. Catherine echoed in my mind: As the Mother of us all, Mary desires all her children to seek the many graces that she will generously pour upon all of them. Yet, as she lamented to St. Catherine in one of the visitations, these abundant graces are not fully dispensed because they are seldom sought in prayer; many beams of light go unclaimed and never touch human lives.

Thus, my introduction to St. Catherine Labouré through a friend's visit to the Chapel of the Mother House, and happening upon her biography, led to a desire to own a Miraculous Medal. These events all seemed to be normal occurrences -- a matter of course. However, a few weeks after I had read Mary Fabyan Windeatt's biography, a good friend from the Front Royal area, Dorothy Schneible, was visiting our home. As she was leaving, I noticed that she was wearing a chain around her neck with a holy medal. When I asked whether she was wearing the Miraculous Medal, Dorothy said yes and showed me firsthand the very medal I had read about in St. Catherine's biography. Naturally, I inquired where she had procured it so that I might buy one and wear it myself. Dorothy mentioned a Catholic gift shop where she had purchased the Miraculous Medal and promised she would give me the address. This sequence of events was now becoming most interesting. From France to Iowa to Virginia; from a phone conversation with friends 1,300 miles away to a book at the Seton School two miles from my home; and from pictures of the Miraculous Medal in a book to the real medal worn by a friend in my own home -- the French saint and the Blessed Mother were sending me a message.

My 10-year-old daughter, Tanya, always attentive to her parents' conversations, had overheard my discussion with Dorothy and knew that I was hoping to buy a Miraculous Medal. One hot July afternoon, my five children and I were swimming at the Christendom College outdoor pool. Tanya had been diving from the deepest end of the pool, looking for coins at the bottom. After one of her dives she came up with something in her hand and immediately turned to me: "Dad, is this the medal you wanted?" It was indeed the Miraculous Medal, this time in the hands of my daughter. From a friend far away to a friend in the same town, from a chain around the neck of a visitor to our home to the hands of my own daughter, St. Catherine and the Blessed Mother were speaking to me in the language of love, although I did not yet fully grasp their meaning. But I was certain that God wanted me to possess this medal and to receive it from the hand of my daughter.

During that summer my family and I were preparing to move from Virginia back to Iowa so I could resume my teaching at Simpson College, for my visiting professorship at Christendom College was drawing to a close. A week or so after Tanya had found the medal in the swimming pool, I attended my last Mass at the college chapel. My heart was filled with the many emotions that accompany saying a sad farewell to good friends and recollecting wonderful memories. I was deeply grateful and especially blessed for the opportunity to teach at a college faithful to the Magisterium in an authentic Catholic atmosphere where I felt so endeared to so many students and colleagues, and I felt sorrowful that I could not continue my teaching career here. In his homily during my last Mass at Christendom College, Fr. James McLucas mentioned an American soldier in World War II who was hiding in a foxhole. Without warning, a Japanese fighter suddenly jumped into the foxhole with the American and was about to take his life when he saw the Miraculous Medal around the American's neck. Obviously a Catholic, the Japanese soldier interpreted the medal as a sign from God to spare the American's life. Of all the examples from history, literature, or the Bible that Fr. McLucas might have cited to illustrate his sermon, he happened to select this incident involving the Miraculous Medal. Thus, St. Catherine Labouré, once an obscure saint about whom I knew virtually nothing, was becoming a familiar name who was constantly present in my life. From early June to late July, this saint had become a familiar companion and the Miraculous Medal a constant symbol of the Blessed Mother's love. And yet I did not know where all these events were leading.

The night before we left Virginia to return to Iowa, Dorothy Schneible, her husband, Dan, and four of their children came to bid us good-bye and share a final meal together. As the Schneibles were about to leave that night, they presented all of us -- my wife, Joyce, our five children, and me -- with chains and Miraculous Medals. The Blessed Mother was touching the lives of each member of my family in a most tender, personal way. The graciousness of Mary had now encompassed my whole family. Instead of merely providing the address of the gift shop (The Catholic Shop, 201 E. Main St., Norristown PA 19401), Dorothy's Catholic heart generously bought not one but seven medals! As Pascal would say, "Love does such things." This last event seemed to be the logical culmination of all the earlier episodes related to the medal -- a gift to remind us of our wonderful Catholic friends in Front Royal and of our fond memories of Christendom College. However, I had not yet glimpsed the heart of the mystery.

Back in Iowa on a September Saturday morning, my daughter Tanya and I were returning home after her soccer practice. We were waiting at an intersection for the light to turn green. When the light changed, I began to cross the intersection when another vehicle, traveling at a reckless speed, ignored the red light, and collided into us. Losing control of my car as it spun around and hit a light pole, I heard the terrifying sounds of shattering glass and metal clashing with metal. After the initial impact I got my car under control again, but heard shrill screams and uncontrollable sobs from Tanya. Stopping the car, I asked if she were injured. She assured me she was unhurt. I too was unharmed. The other driver received a severe cut on the head. Although both vehicles were totaled, Tanya and I escaped unscathed. We had experienced firsthand the miraculousness of the medal we were wearing. That we were so close to the jaws of death and left untouched could only be explained by the Blessed Mother's intercession with the Lord on our behalf. I began to discern the heart of the mystery.

The story began in Virginia with a surprising phone call from the Colella family, and mysteriously culminated in Iowa. Hearing about the accident, Jane Ellen Colella called to inquire about the event and express her gladness at our safety. I explained that I had been wearing the Miraculous Medal. I had briefly sketched for her, a month earlier, the series of events involving the medal that her telephone call had set in motion. However, at that time I had omitted the detail about Tanya's finding the medal in the swimming pool. Now that I included this information in my summary during our conversation, she marveled at the remarkable coincidence of Tanya finding the medal to give to me to protect both our lives. As G.K. Chesterton comments in Orthodoxy, the more coincidental things seem, the less coincidental they are.

All these beloved Catholic friends -- Frank and Jane Ellen Colella, Mary Kay Clark, Dorothy Schneible, and Fr. James McLucas -- were leading us, step by step, to the Miraculous Medal, to St. Catherine Labouré, to the abundant graces of the Blessed Mother, to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The thoughts, prayers, and love of all these people -- and many others whom I cannot include here, and many that I am not even aware of -- helped to effect this miracle. In fact, as I was writing this story, I picked up a book on my desk, a farewell gift from the English majors at Christendom College -- Thomas Molnar's The Pagan Temptation. I had placed in its pages a letter from Anita Crane, a Christendom student:

Dear Dr. Kalpakgian,

Wishing you peace in the glory of Our Lord God almighty in everything you do. My memories of you and your commitment to truth in education will endure. Know that I will also remember our many conversations on the subject. You and your wife and children are in my thoughts and prayers.

Sincerely,
Anita Crane

Included in the letter was a card I had forgotten about until, in an idle moment at my office, I picked up the Molnar book and saw Anita's letter with the card. There it was -- a picture of the Miraculous Medal on a membership card to The Central Association of the Miraculous Medal, dated April 26, 1992. The card reads as follows: "Dr. and Mrs. Kalpakgian and Family are members, and for one year will share in the spiritual benefits listed on the back." I was in awe. This, at last, is the end of the story, I thought.

After I had written an early draft of the story you are now reading, I passed it along to Jane Ellen Colella, as well as an article I had written for Fidelity (April 1992), "The Home as the Center of Civilization." She opened my eyes to two other illuminating facts that I had completely overlooked. First, it was exactly on April 26 that Frank had visited the Chapel of the Miraculous Medal in Paris. Second, appearing on page 36 of that April issue of Fidelity was a poem entitled "Apparition at Paris" by David Lang on the same page as my article -- a poem about St. Catherine Labouré and the Miraculous Medal that I read but did not consider in the light of all these later events:

Guided by a cherubic child,
Down once familiar halls:
First a soft shimmering glow,
Then a coruscating chapel
Where hovers a Queen, stellar crowned,
A pure prism of divine grace,
With outstretched hands scattering rays
Of miraculous iridescent love.
Sublime prayer personified,
Summation of all orations,
Speaking celestial words
To a humble cloistered daughter;
And Catherine beholds the labor
Of a Woman garbed with sunlight:
The globe upheld in counter-revolution
To correct its erratic orbit.

Another remarkable occurrence happened that bore the stamp of God's divine hand and the tenderness of the Blessed Mother's love. Shortly after I wrote to Anita Crane about my auto accident, she wrote back the following to me on November 28, 1992: "My father escaped injury in a serious auto accident also. Even though his car was ‘totaled'…he was not injured. Your story caused him to recognize that the Blessed Mother's Miraculous Medal, which he wears faithfully, was instrumental in this favor."

The heart of this mystery is that God's love never ends.

"O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee."