Dorothy Day's life was one of devout incarnational witness, lived among America's forgotten. Though she began her journey as an atheist, she converted to Roman Catholicism following the birth of her daughter and eventually sought to champion the rights of the poor through hospitality and outreach to New York City's most impoverished. With Peter Maurin, she founded the Catholic Worker Movement, and her writings and mission spread throughout the United States.
In this selection from The Long Lonliness, her autobiography, Dorothy Day explores the indwelling of Christ in incarnational service. She writes, in slightly scolding, particularly stirring narrative, that, "going to the people is the purest and best act in Christian tradition and revolutionary tradition and is the beginning of world brotherhood." Consider how Day's biblical mandates speak to our lives.
On page 213, Dorothy Day writes that, "enduring shame is part of our penance." What do you think she means by this? How does this strike you?
She also writes, on the same page, that "we must and will find Christ in each and every man when we look on them as brothers." What does it mean to look on other humans as brothers and sisters? What helps you to do this? What experiences or pieces of your history make it difficult for you to do this?
Are there ways to engage in Christian service that may not fully engage the descriptions that Dorothy Day gives in these passages?
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2 comments:
Thanks for the reading. I do believe that when we realize that every human is, in the end, searching for God, we can see them as brothers and sisters in Christ. The search may be masked by pride, arrogance, greed, or self-centeredness, but the human is not fully at peace until he finds God. At least that was true for me. Barbara Backer
"Such an extreme of destitution makes all men brothers." I remember serving a small parish in a rural fishing village in Belize. I found I loved the people and I loved the simplicity of living in this simple village inhabitied by people of character. I met several North American expatriates living there. The village was strong and vibrate BUt everyone was poor including the expatriates. When I asked how they managed, one of the Canadians commented, "When everybody is poor, money doesn't matter." It was a wonderful community where all the necessities of life seemed available (literally--fruits and coconuts fell from the trees daily). The people were happy and content. Everyone cared for everyone and no one was left out. I remember thinking that paradise must be like this--a place where the distractions/distinctions of wealth are gone and the family of God is completely gathered.
I was later asked to return to serve as the permanent rector. I could not. I was afraid of the reality of poverty, which is what I would have known had I accepted the call. "Going to the people is the purest and best act in Christian tradition and revolutionary tradition and is the beginning of world brotherhood." I was too afraid.
Day wrote--"In order to have a Christian social order we must first have Christians". Sometimes I wonder.
Not a year goes by I do not wish I had chucked everything and gone to that small Belizean fishing village. But I was (am?) more afraid of poverty than awed by the numinous nature of God. Then again, I hope I have been an awe-filled Christian where I have been and maybe, just maybe had some impact on justice and social order.
I give thanks for those who live fearlessly. I aspire to their faith.
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