So much demands our attention! So many things clamor for what we have, what we can give, and who we are. The world we live in expects status, power, things to fill us. The more we strive after what we desire, the less we feel at peace. Our hunger for whatever we perceive will fill our desires never seems satiated. When is enough, truly enough?
Often there is nothing wrong with what we want in or out of life. I mean it is one thing to seek after power to use it over people but for the most part that isn’t what drives us. Maybe we are fighting for someone else or even just to make ends meet. When our desires tend to be the focus of the issue, we deny them, feeling satisfied in that solution.
I read this verse in worship the other day.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14:27 NIV)
In this passage, Jesus is speaking to his disciples about leaving them and the Father sending the Advocate, the Holy Spirit. I can imagine their confusion and fear hearing the message that their teacher, this rabbi who was going to save them from Roman oppression, was leaving them. But Jesus promised peace, perfect peace.
How do we live out this promised peace given all there is to do? My own schedule seems busier and busier as things continue to grow. Working is easy for me to do. Many times, I walk by my computer to only get sucked into something that needs to be done.
Jesus promised something different. Jesus promised to provide all that we need (remember the birds) and peace. As I was reflecting on this verse, I noticed that Jesus stated he did not give as the world gives. When I chase after what I think I need, it never satisfies. It is never enough. When I stop chasing, I can become content with what I have and where I am.
So, how do I stop chasing when my own ability to pay my bills rests on my working? Do I really believe the promises of Jesus? I think this goes deeper than my ability to believe. I used to think that I needed to believe hard enough like Jesus was a magician to give me what I thought I needed. But we can look around, and see that just isn’t a lived experience of many who are suffering, starving, wounded by the world in one way or another.
It isn’t like the work I do is a bad thing - it is good, very good. Often it feels like play which is undoubtedly connected to how easy it is to get sucked in by my computer when I walk by. The work is good and meaningful. And yet, God invites us to rest.
For me, the invitation is taking a Sabbath each week. It is closing my laptop and walking away while following the leaning of my heart for the agenda of the day. It can be a walk at the Abbey, in the midst of trees and the sound of running water, a chat with a friend, or a much-needed nap. The flow of the day can be whatever leads me as I rest in the day with the Creator of my soul. The One who created me to work, rest, and play.
If Jesus gives us peace, perfect peace, then our invitation is to rest in that peace without the striving, achieving, and getting it right that comes so naturally for us, for me. But to rest requires intentionality on my part. I have to know what I truly desire in my life. Getting to the guiding values of my life has been a place of knowing myself and seeing the gaze of God upon me as unconditional love, not something to be earned.
I can only live in my values and my work of hosting space for others if I lean into the rest I am offered. My intentionality started with a Rhythm of Life - a structure that is framed around what I truly desire in life. Walking through understanding and forming my own Rhythm of Life was part of my journey through seminary. Examining its usefulness and making adjustments has been a continuing of that same journey of discovery of both myself and God in the midst of my life.
Trusting Jesus’ invitation to peace, which is only possible in the space of rest in my life, hasn’t been about believing through rational thought that it was true but in resting in the trueness of it being a reality. In it, I have discerned my own guiding values - Choosing Love, Being Real, Living Simply, Embracing Family, and Valuing Life. When I can hold each of my invitations for work, life, and play through this matrix of values, I am able to discern the way forward. Can I live an authentic life according to the values I have come to realize are the core of the way I want to live? Not a forcing of believing but a living and walking out of reality. It comes not from my rational thought but from a lived groundedness deep within. This informs our discerning of the value of enoughness.
Lynn Holt and I are starting a course on March 18th which will be a space to walk through this process within a safe community. The course will be online with virtual zoom sessions to share the wisdom of the gathered community as we process what our own invitations are. If you would like to join us, please check it out on our website.
Recently, while finishing up my morning quiet-time routine, I reflected on the important place that this morning routine has on my preparation for the day. As I sat and reflected, I had the impression, of climbing up on a ladder attached to the high dive platform of a swimming pool. This impression had me feeling resolved to go through with an action that I had done a number of times before, making a high dive. I was used to the pattern of getting up on the diving platform by climbing the ladder and standing there, mentally preparing for the dive. I imagined a brand new pool and felt the comfort of looking around, knowing that all was in order, seeing how clear and still the water was, and knowing that just like all the previous times, I would stride to the end of the board, dive off and enter the water cleanly, knowing just what to expect and being met with those expectations. On the other hand, I also imagined myself in a derelict building, the lighting was dim, the walls were dingy, the water was a bit murky, and the ladder was slippery. Now, I did not have the sense that I had been up there many times before, and I was not ready because I did not have a routine. I had some fear that when I dove, some mishap might occur.
I see this high dive platform experience as a metaphor for my morning routine, a jumping off point for my day. As inconsequential as my process of having a cup of coffee, reading the bible, reflecting quietly, and then writing in my journal might seem to another person; for me, it is life-giving because it is a routine that I depend on to bridge from the world of sleep to the world of endless possibilities for my day. Will I view the day from the well-established and supported platform, or from the slightly off, unsure platform? I’d like to go into the day saying;
“I am a creator today, just like my Creator! What is on my agenda today, what do I want to create? Perhaps I will create a happy occasion for another person, maybe an opportunity for someone to achieve a goal. I might create a barrier against harm for myself or others. I could create space for my own contemplation and growth. Or, I might make some art that will cause someone to feel, to sense, to remember, to experience, or to wonder. All of these are possibilities. I can take advantage of the open invitation to create and I believe that what I make will be useful, edifying, encouraging, comforting, or loving for another person, for myself, and for my community. I am a creator!”
The book of Genesis prompts us that mankind is made in the image of God. Being in the image of God grants to us the ability and determination to create. When I think about creating and shaping the moment, I see it as an opportunity. Recognizing my role as a creator is both liberating and empowering, while at the same time, I recognize that being a creator comes with responsibilities. And what are those responsibilities? Is it to be true to my art? Is it to steward my resources? Is it to use my gifts to bless others? These are all good aims, good and true. And why do I say that? Because I have the belief that this is what my art of creation is, the shaping of goodness and light. Regarding the opportunity and responsibility of creation, what else is there for me to do but to trust the Spirit’s leading?
In following those leadings, I accept the core responsibilities of a creator; stewardship, integrity, and blessing others. When I move forward with stewardship, integrity, and blessing, I am able to proceed, even if the exact details of my day are not known. For I can live in light of the following questions. In this moment, in this day, am I stewarding the gift of creativity? Am I preparing myself to be creative by my recognition of God’s leadings, and the needs and opportunities around me? In being true to the art of creation, am I acting with integrity to take what I have been given and share it faithfully with those around me? Sometimes a prompt to speak or act may make me uncomfortable. To be faithful in the moment requires me to disregard the doubt and discomfort. I do not know who needs to hear or receive and I don’t know who will benefit if I am faithful. Finally, am I creating blessings for others by kindness or faithfulness or goodness? What am I creating today that helps others, serves others, and influences others for good?
My morning routine does prepare me for the moments of the day. I can choose to view the world as a beautiful place in which I can contribute on a daily basis or as an ugly or difficult place I want to avoid. Each day I have that choice, and each day I can steward the moments for the purpose of blessing others. My morning routine of reading, writing and silent prayer and reflection provides the springboard for me to enter in to the day in a pleasing and energizing way.
This last week has been a difficult one for my family. My daughter with her family live, or lived, in Paradise, California. The massive devastation through the CampFire has been beyond difficult for the community of Paradise. Many people have lost homes, schools, and their town. And others did not make it out alive. How do we manage such places of loss?
My daughter called me early the morning of the fire, to tell me she and her family were okay but that they were being evacuated. She had actually started leaving her house just before the mandatory evacuation. I am so thankful for her decisive action and their safety. One of the things she remembered about leaving their home was that the trees around her house were crackling. The fire wasn’t there yet, but the trees on her property were making crackling sounds.
I don’t know a whole lot about forests. Once when I was researching, I discovered that trees in a forest or grove are actually connected underground through their root system. What one tree lacks due to pests, drought, or disease, other trees send through their roots.
I wondered, was this crackling due to the heat and the approaching fire or was it the community of trees sending on the message to those further ahead? Could this be a warning to whoever or whatever was ahead of the fire?
This image - born in time of devastation - offers a beautiful illustration of community. Together, we live this life in healthier ways than if we are isolated. When we can walk alongside others within community, we can learn to share our needs and meet the needs shared.
This is what I noticed for my daughter and her family in California and for myself as I was holding my family from so far away. My daughter and son-in-law are surrounded by a community that is supporting them as they navigate life after such great loss - as they find a place to live, replace toys for the kids, and clothes for each of them, even a space for their dog. So many needs as they have lost everything.
I also see community and support being offered to them from afar. People, family and friends, who have known us throughout their lifetime, are providing support and love. I can say this speaks volumes to my momma’s heart as I watch their sadness and courage in the face of such a devastating loss.
I’ve been surprised at the impact on my own heart in watching my kids suffer. I live 500 miles away and am not able to rush down and give them a hug. Even if I could, I would not be able to make the pain and loss go away. But my heart hurts to watch them. So much so that I am unable to think about much else. I find I am paying attention to the news and the progress of the fire. I even checked to see what view was available through Google Earth. (Just so you know: it is only updated every one to three years.)
The intentional community I live in has been a place where I am welcomed just as I am. These relationships allow me to understand the intensity of my own emotions, to be honest with permission to allow the pain of holding the hurt of my family.
I wonder if this is living in community - our empathy with the others in our lives, feeling with or even in the emotions of others. When the people around us are suffer, we get to hold that burden together, and that makes it a bit lighter for all. Maybe it is in the sharing of the weight of the load that allows us to benefit from sharing the weight of the pain and also the gift of the joy together. Maybe this is the way we are designed to live, sharing the struggles and joys of life in community together instead of in isolation in this individualistic culture in which we live. This seems to be more like the trees with the root systems connected under the topsoil.
I’m thankful for the community that is surrounding my family. I’m grateful for the community that is surrounding me. I’m also grateful to be part of a community of family and friends that allows us to experience each other's grief, happiness, sadness, and joy. In community, the load is lightened and more beautiful. It comes from how we understand God - if God is about relationship, being with us, then it seems that living life in community, one with another, there is both the experience and the reality of a God who is always with us.
What if this is how we experience the goodness of God? We experience this goodness within relationship, within love, within a community of people where we can both see and be seen, to know and be known, to love and be loved.
In my last blog post, I shared the beginning of Dorothy Day’s journey toward faith and her distinct leaning toward social justice. It was the integration of these two aspects of Dorothy’s understanding of the world that shaped both her work and life. There was something about her desire to know God and her view of people on the outside that brought her mission in life into focus.
A primary driving force for Dorothy was seeing those who were oppressed in the systemic divide created during the industrial revolution and the depression. The world experienced great suffering as the gap grew between those in power, business owners, and their workers. Unions were viewed as an affront, linking them to feared socialism. This was a tumultuous time where people were either thrown into poverty or looking out for their own self-interests. Those who were different from others were seen as the enemy. The church navigated this growing divide between the haves and the have-nots with a thrust toward evangelism, “saving souls,” over taking care of basic needs.(1)
Dorothy continued fighting for social justice through journalism and protests. This mission in her life gave her purpose, but she desired to love and be loved. She became involved in a controlling romantic relationship, but when she became pregnant, her boyfriend wanted to end it. Dorothy had an abortion to try to keep him, but he ended the relationship anyway. Dorothy became depressed and suicidal. As she looked back over her life, she could see that her desire to love and be loved was a guiding influence in her search for God. After her abortion, she continued to have gynecological problems and feared she would never be able to become pregnant again.(2)
Dorothy moved to Staten Island after selling the movie rights to her first book.(3) She sought a restful space to continue to write. During this time, she met and fell in love with Forster, an anarchist and biologist. Forster did not want to commit fully, so they were never married. He cared for Dorothy yet lived as if he was single. In spite of this, Dorothy experienced a greater happiness than she had understood was possible. Living with Forster awakened in Dorothy an understanding of her desire to be loved, leading her to pray.(4) It seemed living with Forster awakened her desire for more of God. Forster was against religion and argued that Dorothy’s preoccupation with faith was “morbid escapism.”(5)
This was an arrangement that Dorothy could live with until she became pregnant. At 29, she felt she would never be able to become pregnant again, and she experienced this as a precious gift. She wanted to raise her child with religion and was also aware of the cost if she did so. She didn’t want this baby to wonder and wander through life, as she had, without knowing about God.(6)
After Tamar Teresa, named after Teresa of Avila, was born, Dorothy was in conflict over what to do. Yet, she knew all along what choice she would make.(7) A nun helped her go through the process to have her baby baptized, learn about Catholicism, and to become baptized herself. Forster left her many times during this time. Dorothy became sick with the stress of wanting two things that couldn’t coexist, following her desire toward God and living with Forster.(8) She was falling in love with God and desired to be united to her Love, as obedient, chaste, and poor.(9)
After Forster left, she left Staten Island and took up journalism jobs once again. She became incredibly lonely, realizing that neither child or husband met her need for deep community. Through this time, her spiritual life deepened.(10) She discovered that women, even all of humankind, desired community. One experience that supported this understanding was becoming severely ill with the flu in Chicago. There wasn’t a supportive community available to her as a single parent in illness.(11)
Dorothy continued to be passionate in her stand against social justice issues and was bothered by the absence of Catholics in the struggle. She participated in a hunger strike in 1932, a march organized by the Communist-led Unemployed Councils; demanding relief and condemning evictions.(12)
In her confusion, Dorothy met a Peter Maurin. He had been told Dorothy was someone he needed to meet, and he became a teacher and mentor for Dorothy. In reality, they were a gift to one another. Peter brought the background Dorothy needed in Catholic history and a vision forward for the Catholic Worker Movement. Dorothy brought the energy and perseverance necessary for the work ahead.(13)
Peter’s vision was “building a new society within the shell of the old.” He saw more for the world, and he believed that the way to God was through humankind. Humankind could do great things, if only it were open toward God. The gift rooted deeply in both Peter and Dorothy was their understanding of seeing and loving the Christ in others.(14)
Together they formed the Catholic Worker Movement, developing a paper to help inform the worker and the unemployed. They taught the importance of living in community like Jesus did, individual action for social justice, pacifism, and voluntary poverty. In their teaching, they spoke against many of the political issues facing 20th Century America.
In the first issue, Dorothy writes that the purpose of the paper was to inform the reader that there was a social program in the Catholic church concerned not only about the readers’ spiritual but also their material welfare. Dorothy continues to ask the question of the possibility of being radical within a belief in God. That one would not need to become an atheist to care about others. The first edition was published by donations and scrimping from their monthly expenses.(15) The paper to this day is still run on donations, and a copy may be purchased for a penny.(16)
In 1933, when the paper started, there were 13,000,000 unemployed people.(17) Dorothy saw a need and worked diligently, within her faith of God, to meet people in their need. In Dorothy’s desire for God, she was moved to live out the incarnation with people, those who were oppressed on the sides of society. She was not content to only help those in need. She desired to be right in the midst of life with those who were on the outside. In my next post, we will take a look at her ministry as it developed.
(1) Nancy Koester, Introduction to the History of Christianity in the United States, Kindle (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015), loc. 4892-4916.
(2) Miller, Dorothy Day: A Biography, 138–40, 181.
(3) William D. Miller, Dorothy Day: A Biography, 1st ed. (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1982),163.
(4) Dorothy Day, The Long Loneliness: The Autobiography of Dorothy Day (Chicago, Ill.: Thomas More Press, 1989), 135, 139-142.
(5) Miller, Dorothy Day, 188.
(6) Day, The Long Loneliness, 165.
(7) Ibid., 165–67.
(8) Miller, Dorothy Day, 190.
(9) Day, The Long Loneliness, 177–78.
(10) Ibid., 187–88.
(11) Miller, Dorothy Day, 208, 211.
(12) Albert J. Raboteau, American Prophets: Seven Religious Radicals and Their Struggle for Social and Political Justice (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2016), 71.
(13) Day, The Long Loneliness, 202.
(14) Ibid., 203-204.
(15) Dorothy Day, “To Our Readers,” Catholic Worker Movement, May 1933, http://www.catholicworker.org/dorothyday/articles/12.html.
(16) Raboteau, American Prophets, 77.
(17) Day, The Long Loneliness, 218.
Dorothy Day authentically lived out her faith in tangible ways that mattered. Yet, she faced opposition by the society she served. Her contribution has been recognized by those who had distanced themselves during her lifetime. In 2015, Pope Francis singled her out as one of four prominent Americans: Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr., Thomas Merton, and Dorothy Day.(1)
Even though Dorothy had no theological training and no positional authority in the church, she has become one of the most significant and influential people in American Catholicism.(2) She had walked away from all that mattered in American culture; family, education, prestige, power; and purposely lived among the poor.(3) Her life, before she accepted Catholic faith, was one fueled by a love for social activism and a struggle to be in a place where she could love and be loved. Her journey through life was one of struggle, loss, pain, and searching. She defined herself as a Bohemian. “She was an unwed mother, a disillusioned citizen, a poor woman, a disaffected churchgoer, an unemployed observer of the human race.”(4) It was through this intense loneliness of searching that she discovered the answer for the long loneliness all humans experience, as love. Dorothy began to understand that love was experienced by living life in community.(5)
As I was reading about Dorothy Day through my summer church history course, I was taken with her spunk and tenacity in life. Over the next couple of posts, I would like to share part of her story with you. The image at the top of this post is from a wood carving created by Fritz Eichenberg as a homage to Dorothy.(6)
Dorothy Day was born in Brooklyn in 1897 as the middle of five children. Her father was a sports writer, covering horse racing, and her mother was a homemaker. Her father was a confirmed atheist who, oddly enough, also carried around a Bible. Dorothy’s family moved to California before the 1906 earthquake shook the area. Due to the loss of her father’s job in the devastation from the quake, they moved to the East Coast. However, it was the kindness of people coming together during this tragedy in California that had a longstanding impact throughout Dorothy’s life.(7)
In her young adult years, Dorothy became involved with social justice, anti-war, and the socialist party. Against her father’s wishes, she pursued a position as a journalist. She wanted to experience the life of those in poverty. To do so she purposely lived on five dollars a month and wrote about it as a means to experience life from this place of hardship.(8)
Something about the kindness of people that Dorothy witnessed after the earthquake and her desire for social justice, helped her discover a desire to know God and to live authentically with the people she experienced in life. In this desire, she pursued many different journalist assignments. She often joined others on picket lines in her concern for social justice. The first time was in support of the suffragists in Washington DC. Women arrested earlier were treated as ordinary prisoners, instead of political activists, and taken to a workhouse. Dorothy, along with 34 other women, decided to protest their unfair treatment. Dorothy’s group was arrested and sentenced for 30 days. They made a pact to engage in a hunger strike to influence fairer treatment. As they reacted to the harsh treatment they received, it was falsely reported that the women were combative.(9)
They continued steadfast in their hunger strike. The lack of food combined with the harsh treatment and isolation caused Dorothy to go in and out of consciousness. During this difficulty, she identified herself with other prisoners and felt a deep need to escape her situation. However, she chose to endure until her 30 days were over. During day six, she was taken to the hospital. After a full 10 days, these persistent women received their demands and were taken to the city jail instead of the workhouse.(10)
Dorothy began to understand from this experience that it didn’t matter if you willed yourself to see the best in someone, they always showed their worst. She didn’t believe in prayer or religion, but she seemed to always place herself in places of prayer. Dorothy experienced prayer as peace. She felt that the “life of nature warred against the life of grace.”(11)
Dorothy felt convicted in realizing that she and the group she hung out with would live around the poor in order to help them but in reality, did not personally give up anything. This wasn’t a true philosophy of poverty. They were motivated by a sense of justice but were not embracing a life of poverty.(12) So, she signed up for a nursing training program during WWI and the Spanish flu epidemic.(13) She wanted to help the poor and began to understand that people, the sick and the poor, wanted to be respected which was more than love.(14)
Dorothy worked at the hospital for one year and left to follow her true vocation of journalism. In a time when the newspapers were stating that worker strikes were unjust and not at all helpful for the workers, Dorothy witnessed the reality the workers experienced. This real-life experience in contrast to the propaganda being shared helped to shape Dorothy’s social justice stand in life and ministry later on. She continued writing for papers, being involved in social justice protests. Another imprisonment experience continued to shape her understanding of and for the oppressed. She began to understand that it was not prudent to believe what people said but to judge their actions.(15)
More of Dorothy’s story will come in following posts. I find it incredibly interesting to discover the early foundations behind someone’s spiritual journey of discovery. So much of how we understand God is shaped by our families of origin, our experiences in life, and our understanding of how the world works. Dorothy’s compassion and empathy for people was fueled by the coming together of people in disaster and something within that saw value in those on the outside. This understanding shaped her life and ministry.
(1) Joan Chittister, “Dorothy Day” 41, no. 1 (2016): 71.
(2) Mark A. Noll, A History of Christianity in the United States and Canada (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2001), 514–15.
(3) Chittister, “Dorothy Day,” 71.
(4) Ibid., 71.
(5) Dorothy Day, The Long Loneliness: The Autobiography of Dorothy Day (Chicago, Ill.: Thomas More Press, 1989), 326.
(6) Eichenberg, Fritz, Works of Mercy, edited by Robert Ellsberg, (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1992), 72.
(7) Albert J. Raboteau, American Prophets: Seven Religious Radicals and Their Struggle for Social and Political Justice (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2016), 64.
(8) Day, The Long Loneliness: The Autobiography of Dorothy Day, 73.
(9) Ibid., 95–97.
(10) Ibid., 100–105.
(11) Ibid., 108.
(12) Ibid., 110–11.
(13) Raboteau, American Prophets: Seven Religious Radicals and Their Struggle for Social and Political Justice, 67.
(14) Day, The Long Loneliness: The Autobiography of Dorothy Day, 113.
(15) Ibid., 118, 124-125, 132.
Hello, I'm Kathi Gatlin. Thanks for stopping by!