Heroes: Inspiration for All Ages by Robert S. Swiatek - HTML preview

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2.  Eric, Jerzy and William

Eric Liddell

Eric Henry Liddell was born in Tientsin, China, on January 16, 1902, to James Dunlop Liddell and Mary Reddin. His original name of Henry Eric Liddell was rejected because of what the first letter  of  each  name  put  together  would  represent.  Even  then, apparently acronyms were around as were  horrible spellers. More important, Eric‟s mom and dad were quite religious, initiating their missionary career  in China  at  the  turn  of the  twentieth century. Eric‟s older brother Robert was born in Shanghai two years before. Their sister Jenny was born in China  in October 1903. The  three children were the only ones in Siaochang who weren't Chinese.

The  family  traveled  to  Southampton,  England,  in  early 1907 just as Eric was getting over a case of dysentery. Before they left, a missionary friend took note of the young lad and mentioned, that  boy will  never  be  able  to  run  again.  Robert  and  Eric  were enrolled  in  the  missionary  school  in  the  Blackheath  section  of England at  Eltham College.  The rest of the  family had gone back to China. The pair played rugger, which most of us know as rugby. Eric defied the guy who said he would never run again.

In China, the government was overthrown as Sun Yat-sen replaced empress Tz‟u-hsi. In 1914, Mary, Jenny and Ernest, who was born two years before in China, arrived in London around the same  time  as  World  War  I.  Jenny  began  attending  school  at Walthamstow, but then left for school in China probably due to the war.  Before  she  left,  Eric  mentioned  that  his  schoolwork  wasn't that great, but he could run.

At  Eltham,  Rob was a runner, too. For 1918,  he  and Eric finished  in the  top  two  spots  in  final track  events:  quarter  mile, hurdle race, 100 yards, cross country,  high jump, long jump. Rob went on to Edinburgh University while Eric advanced as more of a leader: school prefect, cricket and rugby captains. He ran the 100- yard dash in 10.2 seconds, a record for him and one that stood at the  school  for  80   years.  He  also  captured   the  Senior   Track Athletics  Championship  in  1919,  which  his  brother  had  done  a year before.  He  also  impressed  the school  with his  humility and character.  He  began  going  to  Bible  study classes  at  Eltham and started visiting the sick at the medical mission in Islington. Almost a year passed without  Eric doing any running but he set his mind on  following  A.  P.  Cullen,  a  teacher  at  Eltham,  to  China  as  a teacher in Tientsin. Soon, he started running again. He joined Rob at Edinburgh University.

On June  18,  at  the  Scottish Inter-Varsity Sports  meet,  he won both the 100-yard and 220-yard dashes and repeated the feat at  Hampden Park  in  Glasgow  at  the  Scottish  Amateur  Athletics Association Championship, posting a 22.6 second time in the 220- yard event, a Scottish AAA record. Eric would repeat his winning ways numerous times in the days that followed, even in 440-yard races. Rob was at  medical school at Edinburgh University and he and  Eric  lived  in the  Edinburgh Medical  Missionary Hostel  in a really happy setting. Rob was a member of the Glasgow Students‟ Evangelical  Union (GSEU)  when David P.  Thompson,  a student from Glasgow, was searching  for a  speaker.  Aware that Eric  had never done that before,  he asked  him if he could say a few words about his faith. Eric agreed.

On April 6, 1923, he found that God had granted him a gift, besides  that  of  running.  Not  that  much  of  a  speaker,  he  still inspired listeners and gained their attention. A week later, he spoke to 600 students and soon he joined the GSEU. Eventually he would speak  to  thousands  who  listened  to  the  famous  athlete  and  his words of  faith.  Because of  his success on the  track,  Eric  had  his thoughts on the 1924 Olympics  in Paris. He  had one test  that  he needed to succeed at, though.

Winning a 440 race in the summer of 1923 would result in his being on the  team  from Great  Britain.  The  event started and within seconds J. J. Gillies sent him flying, not only down, but also away from the track. It  may have been accidental, but I doubt  it. Two officials yelled out, Get up, get up! Eric did, needing a great effort to catch up to the other runners. Slowly he passed the second last  one,  and  then  the  person ahead  of  him.  His  arms  were  like windmills and his fists punched the air. He lifted his legs high and soon he was ten yards away from Gillies. The crowd was cheering, even those who weren't Scots. He gave it all he had. He passed J. J. and won the race. He would be going to Paris.

When the star runner found out that the heats  for the 100- meter race were to be held on a Sunday, he said, I’m not running, in  order  to  keep  the  Sabbath  holy  as  the  fourth  commandment instructs.  Eric was entered  in the 200-  and 400-meter events, but neither the 4 x 100 nor 4 x 400 relays because both heats were also on a  Sunday.  In  the  semifinal 200-meter  race,  Charley Paddock finished  first,  edging  Eric  by a  tenth of  a  second  and  the  latter wondered if he had enough strength to repeat his effort in the final. Eric didn't begin well and didn't finish in first. He managed to be the  first Scot to  ever  win a  medal  in  the Olympics,  doing so by ending up in third place and winning the bronze. The next day was the 400-meter run.

Six   runners   qualified   for   the   400-meter   event:   two Americans,   Horatio  Fitch  and  J.  C.  Taylor;  Canadian  D.  M. Johnson; Joseph Imbach from Switzerland; Gary Butler from Great Britain;  Eric  Liddell.  Liddell  was  in the  sixth lane. He was tired and Fitch had set an Olympic record with a 47.8 second run. When the race began, Eric started out in a sprint, leading the way. Fitch was right behind him and as they neared the finish line, Eric gave it all he had. He was the winner setting a record at 47.6 seconds. Eric wasn't proud of himself; he was proud of his country.

When Eric graduated on July 17 1924, his family wasn't in attendance but it was made up of Scots, professors, classmates and dignitaries. When the name Eric Henry Liddell was announced, the crowd  cheered  and  kept  it  up  until  vice-chancellor  Sir  Alfred Ewing  pleaded  for  calm.  Speaking  to  Eric,  Sir  Alfred  said,  you have shown that none can pass you but the examiner! Laughter and more cheering followed  and  Ewing asked  for silence once  more. When the ceremony ended, he was carried out on the shoulders of students to a thanksgiving service. There he was beseeched to say a few  words.  He  told  of  the  words  found  over  the  gate  of  the University of Pennsylvania: In the dust of defeat as well as in the laurels  of  victory  there  is  glory  to be found  if  one  has  done  his best.

Before the Olympics,  Eric  had  his  mind set on missionary work   in  China,  but  decided  to  spend  a   year  at  the  Scottish Congregational  College   in   Edinburgh   first.   That   year,   Annie Buchan,   a   nurse   from   Peterhead   decided   to   be   a   Chinese missionary after observing Eric. Also inspired was Peter Marshall who  came  to  America  and  eventually  became  a  well-respected pastor, serving as U. S. Senate chaplain. Elsa McKechnie was only fourteen, but admired  him and hoped to  meet  him, which she did when he visited the McKechnie home for tea. During the year Eric appeared at numerous speaking events. He also competed at track and continued his winning ways.

Traveling  east,  Eric  took  a  ferry  from England  to  France where  he boarded the  Trans-Siberian Railway for  his 5,000-mile trip to Tientsin. Family members had been on long journeys before and that would continue. As usual, China was unstable. On arrival, Eric would see  his  family, do some preaching,  meet some of the teachers  from  the  Anglo-Chinese  College  and  even  relax  at  the gulf.  Natives  considered   visitors   to  their   land   foreign  devils, whether missionaries or traders.

Eric  was  appointed  Sunday  school  superintendent  at  his father‟s church. One morning in 1929, while at the church, a young woman approached him, saying: Hello, Eric. You don’t remember me,  do  you?  It  was  Florence  MacKenzie,  who  he  had  met  four years before when she was a fourteen-year old. She was there  for work at the mission. She  had loved him for a  few years. It wasn't long   before   they   were   courting,   despite   their   ten-year   age difference. Soon Eric asked her to marry him and she agreed. They were engaged a few months after that. Like his parents, it would be a long engagement.

MacKenzie traveled to  Toronto  with her sister  for  nursing studies while Eric made his way to Great Britain. He preached and had  other  speaking  gigs.  He  visited  his  parents  and  Ernest,  who was in a business college in Edinburgh. Jenny was engaged to Dr. Charles Somerville with a wedding coming in the spring. On June 22,  1932,  Liddell  was  ordained  at  the  Scottish  Congregational College.   He   needed   to   return  to   Tientsin.   Meanwhile,   Japan captured Manchuria and next was an attack on Shanghai.

He  had  been  without  Florence  for  a  long  time  but  was managing  with  all  his  duties.  One  day  he  read  the  scripture passage, lo, I am with you always and he sensed the presence of his dad. The next day he heard, by way of a telegram, that James had died peacefully in Drymen, Scotland. He couldn‟t go back  for the funeral or to  his  family.  A short time afterwards,  Eric received a letter  from  his  dad  when  the  elder  confirmed  that  the  lad  was fulfilling  God‟s  mission.  The  same  day  of  the  letter,  Florence passed her exams. Two months later, she and her mother returned to  China.  On  March  27,  1934,  Florence  and  Eric  were  wed  in Union Church. A year and a few months later, Florence gave birth to a little girl, whom they named Patricia.

The country was at war and Siaochang was not a safe place to be. Eric was needed there so he considered going. Florence was to remain in Tientsin. Eric  left  for Siaochang in September 1936. There  he  witnessed  the  military  presence,  disease,  hunger  and drought. Despite this, he felt that this is where God was calling him to  be.  He  loved  what  he  was  doing,  preaching  and  serving  the people.  This  he  did  while  hearing  exploding shells  and  gunfire. Florence was in Tientsin with Patricia and the new baby, Heather.

One night no one showed up for the service at the church.

There  was a  noise outside,  which made  the  missionaries  uneasy, but  it  was  an opium addict,  who  fell  down on  his  knees.  Many were  surprised  because  they  thought  he  was  in  prison.  He  had prayed and  had been set  free, though. With this  congregation  for Eric  to  preach  to,  the   service  began.  Most  of  the   time,  the missionaries   faced   many  disappointments,  realizing  that   there wasn't much they could do. Eric took a short break and went to his family, but then returned to the war zone.

The  hospital became  known as  a  rescue  mission. No one was refused help, whether bandit, friend, foe, Chinese or Japanese. Besides  giving  physical  treatments,  Eric  also  applied  spiritual lessons.  Annie  Buchan  created  a  baby  clinic  in  order  to  fight against  the  rising  infant  mortality  rate.  A  milk  substitute,  soya- bean  milk,  was  shown  to  make  a  difference  in  saving  children while not that costly.

In the  summer  of 1939,  he  returned  to  Tientsin  for  some more  time  off.  Japan  was  in  charge  of  the  area,  having  pushed heroin  as  well  as  cheap  goods  on the  Chinese.  Before  long,  the Liddell  family would sail across the Pacific to get away from the strife. Their destination was Hawaii, to be followed by Vancouver and finally Toronto. Florence and the girls stayed in Toronto with her  relatives and  Eric  headed  for  Scotland, where  he  would  visit his mom, Jenny, Charles and Ernest. World War II was starting in Europe.  In early  1940,  Florence,  Patricia  and  Heather  arrived  in Scotland.

They returned  to  China  later  that  year.  In Siaochang the Chinese were forced to demolish their own villages and build roads for the Japanese. Casualties kept coming to the hospital, more than before. Food  and supplies  were scarce.  Eric  continued preaching and doing all he could to help. In early 1941, two weeks notice was offered  to  the  missionaries  for  them  to  depart.  Florence  soon discovered  she  was  pregnant  and  she  and  the  girls  departed  for Canada, once more. Maureen was born that September.

Eric  and  others   were   sent   to  the   internment  camp  at Weihsien.  At  first  it was  very difficult, but the captives  made the best  of  the  situation,  even  making  it  somewhat  civilized  and hospitable.   Unfortunately,   Eric‟s   health   suffered   even   as   he inspired others. He was diagnosed with malnutrition, sinusitis and influenza. He exhibited characteristics of a  neurological problem, with his right leg paralyzed, but somehow, he rallied. On February 21, he  returned to  the  hospital and  then to  the church. Coughing and choking at the same time, he was taken to the hospital, where he proceeded into a convulsion, followed by a coma. He died that day and was finally entered into the presence of God.

In 1980, Eric was  honored with the  Eric  Liddell Centre  in Edinburgh  as  an  inspiring  hero  for  his  life  as  a  Christian.  A memorial headstone was placed on his grave in Weihsien in 1991 with  the  words,  they  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles;  they shall run and not  be weary.  The  United States  Episcopal Church celebrates a feast day in Liddell‟s honor on February 22.

Jerzy Popiełuszko

Władysław  and  Marianna  Kalinowska  Popiełuszko  were the parents of five children in the  farm town of Okopy in Poland. Jazdia was the  first but died on Christmas Eve before  her second birthday. The second child was Teresa and the first son was Jozef, who was destined  to  take over the  farm for  his  father. Marianna was pregnant for the fourth time in early 1947 when monks arrived and  mentioned  a  mission  of  one  week  at  Sts.  Peter  and  Paul Church in Suchowola. She attended every evening, and though the Nazis   were   gone,   matters  appeared   grimmer.  She  prayed  the rosary, promising God that one of her children would be a priest. The  child  born  on  September  14,  1947,  was  sickly  and  named Alfons after his uncle. He did survive, wasn't meant to be a farmer and chose books over games. Stanislaw followed as the fifth child. They all helped out on the farm.

From the age of seven, Alfons served the Mass at Sts. Peter and Paul at 6:30 am. He didn't like the  name so he told others to call   him   Alek.   Some   called   him   Alexander   and   he   never complained.  Just  after  he  started  school,  the  students  were  to  be immunized  against  smallpox.  The  sight of  the  needle  resulted  in crying by the children but he got the shot without any fuss. A few months after that Alfons had to use a nail for chestnut carving. He was careless and it came out the other side of his hand. The blood didn't bother him but his teacher almost passed out. She took him to the nurse where the  nail was pulled out by a doctor, whom he thanked.

In  school,   Alfons  wasn't  popular  but  got  along  with everyone. The books he read were treatises on Maximilian Kolbe, lives of the saints,  sermons and other  religious  matter.  Alek  was impressed  by   the   life  of  Kolbe.  In  1964,   he   headed  out  to Niepokalanov,  the  site  of  a  friar  community,  where  he  saw  the friary and then returned home. He also visited the seminary of St. John the Baptist in Warsaw, applying for admission in a  year. He was accepted there in 1965. Marianna was happy with his decision and prayed that God would protect him and keep him from harm.

In Warsaw, Alfons discovered that  his  name was slang for a pimp.  He  entered  the seminary of St.  John the  Baptist  in June 1965. Built in the 1700s by the Carmelites, it was dark and airless, but  untouched by the Nazi regime. It didn't  take  long before the lad seriously considered abandoning his moniker, replacing it with Jerzy. Students may have been fortunate to be in a room with only one other person, but  most  likely each had a bed with a dozen or more  seminarians.  A  new  term  brought   housing  lotteries  and someone  who  had  two  roommates  before  could  wind  up  with nineteen. Jerzy accepted it all without complaining.

In late 1956, Władysław Gomułka led the government and considered seminaries as places of business, so taxing them was in order. His cronies weren't fond of the church and seminarians had little meat and few vegetables, most nourishment coming from the families  of  the  students.  Those  at  St.  John  the  Baptist  had  to procure odd jobs such as office cleaners and road sweepers.  This was  in  addition  to  the  required  studies,  writing  and  delivering sermons  to  colleagues.  Popiełuszko   was   familiar   with  double duties since he had managed them at home.

As  far  as  being  at  the  top  of  the  class  in  studies,  Jerzy didn't  stand  out  but  made  up  for  it  with  his  enthusiasm  and reverence for God as well as country. As before, his health was not much different from what it had been and he was small of stature. Stanislaw   Malkowski  also  attended   the  seminary  and   viewed Popiełuszko  as  friendly,  sincere,  open  but  ordinary,  which  was expected  because  of  his  peasant  background.  A  couple  decades later,  Stanislaw  and Jerzy would be  united  in  their  opposition to Communism.

Before being at the  seminary for a  year, Popiełuszko  was drafted  into the army. No breaks were  given to the Church. With those studying for the priesthood at drill, the government used the time to discourage the young men from continuing their vocations. They also set out to guarantee that seminarians wouldn't spread the Word of God to the other recruits. Having a single seminarian in a barracks  was one solution, but  it  failed at  times because  the  men from St. John fostered good relations with the others, leading them in  Bible  readings  and  prayers.  There  were  classes  in catechism, too.  On  the  other  hand,  one  seminarian  was  told,   Remember, father, your collar won’t protect you here. This admonition didn't affect  Jerzy,  whose  physical  courage  even then would  become a part of him in the 1980s.

Jerzy was a peace loving person and he saw the ugly side of Communism when he had an assignment in northern Poland in the city of Bartoszyce. From then on he was an opponent of the system and spoke out against oppression. Since his first Holy Communion, Popiełuszko wore a scapular medal proclaiming his devotion to the Blessed Mother. A sergeant inquired as to what he had on his neck. Jerzy told  him  and  the sergeant demanded  that  he remove  it  but Popiełuszko  refused.  Defeated,  the sergeant said,  get  out  of  here immediately,  Popiełuszko.  Jerzy  stood  out  in  the  rain  for  a  few hours because of the incident, but his scapular was still around his neck.

The  army  didn't  help  Jerzy‟s  health,  as  he  went  through dizzy  spells.  After  entering  the  hospital,  he  was  diagnosed  with hyperthyroidism. Part of his thyroid was removed, but somehow it gave  him strength. With it, he passed  his finals and was ordained on May 28, 1972, in St. John‟s Cathedral. He was joined by over twenty-nine   other   seminarians   who   became   priests   that   day, listening to the sermon of Cardinal Wyszynski. They were about to begin doing their work.

Jerzy  was  assigned  to  Holy  Trinity  in  Zabki,  but  Father Tadeusz Karolak and Popiełuszko  had clashes. In the summer of 1975, he  was  transferred  to Mother of God, Queen of Poland,  in Anin,  not  far  from Warsaw. Here,  he didn't  fit  in either and  less than three years later he found himself at Infant of Jesus Church in Zoliborz. Within months, he collapsed while saying Mass and soon went to a parish with less stress, St. Anna, an academic church. He changed  it  into  a  gathering  place  for  young  people.  In  another move  for  his  health,  the  curia  of  Warsaw  brought  him  to  St. Stanislaw  Kostka  in  May  1980,  which  was  usually  assigned  to clergy when they were about to retire.  That‟s one thing he didn't do. In a few months, Solidarity would embrace the country.

The  spelling  of the  organization in Polish  is  Solidarność, which arrived on August 31, 1980. The Communist authority in the country weren't pleased  with the Church in Poland and certainly not with Pope John Paul II, the first Polish pope. Even before being named pope, Karol Wojtyla wrote a poem that Jerzy quoted about the worker.  It asked,  what  makes you think  that  man can tip the balance on the scales of the world?  The Polish Union, Solidarity, answered  the  question,  insisting  man  could,  provided  there  was spiritual guidance. At  first, Solidarity had  a membership of about ten  million  and  would  only  grow  larger  as  the  Church and  the people   all   embraced   it.    In   the   early   twenty-first   century, membership still numbered in the hundreds of thousands. Needless to say, this activism in the 1980s didn't sit well with the commies.

A better name couldn‟t have been picked  for the group. In August 1980, the  union,  led by Lech Walesa, struck on behalf of the  workers  in  Gdansk.  The  government  appealed  to  patriotism with  a  hint  of change  along  with  some  repression.  The  Church supported the union, advocating the rights of the laborer, including that  of  worship,  truth,  private  property,  bread  and  a  fair  wage. Protests  were  going  on  in  the  Silesian  coal  mines  and  at  the Warsaw steelworks,  Huta Warszawa. Popiełuszko was part of the movement, even if he only preached peace in St. Stanislaw Kostka.

Father Henryk Jankowski celebrated Mass for the workers at  Gdansk.  Another  priest  was  sought  to  do  the  same  at  Huta Warszawa. Most refused to go there, but Jerzy became the priest of Solidarność. He went to the foundry having his doubts about being accepted. He shouldn‟t have worried as he was greeted by smiling, crying  and  cheering people.  He  thought  it  was  for  him  but  then realized  it was  for the Church.  It  was  for both as  he became the first priest entering through the front gate and the first to say Mass at Huta Warszawa.

He  knew  somewhat  of  the  problems  the  workers  were experiencing,   having   heard   their   confessions.   The   constantly changing   work   shifts   of   the   men   were   wrecking   havoc   on marriages,  not  to  mention  health problems.  The  community  was demoralized and  fragmented. He  was really needed there. He had much to do, including comforting the families and embracing them with spirituality. He also had to teach them exactly what Christ had taught regarding social justice.

Popiełuszko was there for the strikers as well. He joined the medical academies when they protested for a higher education bill. Students  were  as  active  in  the  movement  as  others,  posing  red banners in the familiar Solidarity script. Just to be in the presence of the strikers was enough, as Karol Szadurski explained:

During a strike every boy carries some fear in him because nobody knows how it will end. But when one finds out that a priest has come – as I found out that he had arrived in the Huta – then one sees that one has nothing to fear, that one is on a higher moral plane.

The  movement  was  gaining  too  much  power,  which  the authorities  couldn‟t  handle.  Spying  was  happening  and  soldiers appeared   at   the   churches.    Eventually,   Jaruzelski   suspended Solidarność.  This  was done to  restore order even though matters weren't in disorder. The commies were losing control as workers, religious and all the people were being watched. Reform in Poland was happening, but the higher ups wanted no part of it.

On December  13,  1982,  a  bomb  was  tossed  into  Jerzy‟s tiny  apartment,   tied   to   a   brick.   It   was   meant   for   him,   but fortunately no one was hurt. He soon had people  guarding him at all hours. The Secret Police tried various tactics. Some police agent was chased away from Popiełuszko‟s car by his defenders. At first Jerzy thought he wasn't under watch, but he soon knew that he was being targeted.  Even  preaching  at  Mass  wasn't  safe.  The  secret police  tried  various  tactics,  including  one  involving  vodka  that would  disgrace  him  and  force  him  to  leave  St.  Stanislaw.  That didn't work. Another that failed was planting Solidarity pamphlets and  munitions  in his apartment. There  were other attempts on his life.

In  Okopy,  Jerzy‟s  mom  and  dad  turned  on the  news  on Octber 20, 1984. The  night before, Marianna had difficulty falling asleep. She  had a dream that  one of her sons  was being  maimed and tortured. The youngest, Stanislaw, was sleeping at home while Jozef was in West Germany on business, soon to return to Poland. Keeping track of the other son, the priest, was an impossible task.

Popiełuszko  died  on  October  19,  1984,  but  it  was  not related to his run-down condition or other health problems. He was kidnapped and cruelly, brutally murdered. He was with his driver, who  was  also  hurt  but  somehow  managed  to  get  away.  Despite what happened to him, Jerzy also tried to flee, but was beaten and dumped in the Reservoir near the Vistula River.

According to Father Andrzej Przekazinski:

Solidarity  helped  Jerzy  find  those  people  who  made  him feel  needed,  who  accepted  him  and  his  ideas,  and  who became  his  greatest  friends.  Even today  we can  see  how those  people  loved  him.  It  was  a  genuine  friendship  and love  for  him.  He  and  they  were  attracted  to  each  other. Jerzy was not just  a passive member  of  Solidarity, he was one of the spiritual founders of the movement.

There  wasn't  a  policeman  in sight  at  Jerzy‟s  funeral,  but 400,000  people,  the  largest  gathering  in Poland  since  John Paul II‟s  last visit. Addressing the mourners, Lech Walesa said,  rest in peace. Solidarity is alive because you have given your life for it.

Over  the  years,  Poland  has  been  taken  over  by  various countries    from    all   directions.    Though    it‟s    fiction,    James Michener‟s  book,  Poland:  A  Novel,  treats  of  much of the  strife, historically.  The  events  of  late  1984  seemed  to  repeat  what  had been going on for  years. Solidarity wasn't dead, though. In 1989 agreement between the government and Solidarity members led to semi-free elections in Poland.

In  Popiełuszko‟s  memory,  Andrezej  Panufnik  composed the  Bassoon Concerto  in 1985.  That  same  year  the  1985  French film,  To  Kill  a  Priest,  based  on  Jerzy‟s  life  came  out  and  in October 1985, the documentary drama The Deliberate Death of a Polish Priest  was showcased at  the  Almeida  Theatre  in  London. Two other movies, Popiełuszko and Jerzy Popiełuszko: Messenger of the Truth came out in 2009 and 2013 respectively. You can read more in The Priest And The Policeman: The Courageous Life And Cruel Murder Of Father Jerzy Popiełuszko, the 1987 book by John Moody and Roger Boyes. There are monuments to him in Chicago next  to  St.  Hyacinth  Basilica  and  near  St.  Hedwig  Church  in Trenton,  New  Jersey.  You can  find  a  part  of McCarren Park  in Greenpoint, Brooklyn,  named after  him and Popiełuszko Court  in Hartford, Connecticut. Popiełuszko was beautified on June 6, 2010 in Warsaw, with Marianna present.

William Wilberforce

William Wilberforce was born in Hull on the coast of Great Britain on  August 24, 1759, to  merchant  Robert Wilberforce and Elizabeth  Bird.  He  was  their  only  son and  the  family  was  rich, including his  grandfather William who prospered  in the  maritime trade, even being mayor of Hull. As you might guess, England may have been Christian, but most of the people there were so in name only.  The  Wilberforces  attended  church,  but  weren't  practicing Christians and classified those who took religion seriously as either Methodists or enthusiasts.

Called Billy when he was young, his father died before his tenth birthday and Elizabeth, who was sick and didn't think she‟d survive, sent him off to live with his aunt Hannah and her husband at  Wimbledon.  Had  Elizabeth  known  that  they  were  devoted Methodists,  Billy  would  have  stayed  with  his  grandparents.  The lad enjoyed  his time with his aunt, uncle and their frie