Catherine Doherty & Dorothy Day: Friends, Servants of God

Some friendships were just meant to be.  Such was the friendship between Catherine Doherty and the better-known social activist Dorothy Day (click here for previous posts about Catherine).  Fr. Bob Wild, the postulator for Catherine’s cause for canonization, wrote of Catherine and Dorothy:  “They were almost mirror images of each other:  their apostolates covered roughly the same historical period, from 1930-1980, totally loyal Catholics, serving the poor, conditioned by the Great Depression, women of prayer, dedicated to the Church, founders of movements that continue to this day.” 

 

Although Catherine and Dorothy never had as much time together as they would have liked, they maintained a deep friendship through correspondence and an occasional visit.  They supported one another through thick and thin, experiencing many of the same challenges in their common work of serving the poor and marginalized.  At times they were discouraged by their work – Catherine writes of times they would meet together at Child’s in New York (“where you could get three coffee refills”) – and how they would sit together holding hands and crying into their coffee cups (“I mean honest, big tears….  We had had it!”).  But they prodded one another along the narrow path – and both are now honored by the Church with the title “Servant of God” as their causes for canonization are underway.  Both women had their share of bumps along the road, and there will certainly be bumps along the road to canonization, too.  And for them, of course, the title “saint” means nothing.  They ran the good race and fought the good fight; they served until the end and poured themselves out as libations for the little ones, the ones in need, the ones who are Christ in this world.  But for us, to call them “saint” would be a privilege.  It would allow us to speak the recognition, each time we say their names, that they did the single thing we are all supposed to do – the thing we want to do but don’t have the courage:  they followed the two great commandments until it hurt.

 

This is how Catherine described their last meeting in 1978:

 

“Well, this was quite a red letter day as far as I was concerned. It was the fact that I met Dorothy Day. She had her 81st birthday. She looks so thin, so thin. Life is sort of ebbing out of her. Only her eyes are still sparkly. For me this was a red letter day. To me there was really nobody there, only Dorothy. I looked at her, and I sort of took her in with my whole heart, my mind, my eyes, my body, my everything. And I said to myself, ‘Catherine, you are meeting a saint. Don’t you ever forget it, the saint of New York.”

 

The relationship between Catherine and Dorothy is a testament to friendship.  In this life, we either make the way smoother for each other, or we place obstacles in each other’s paths.  The mutual love between these women, grounded in the love of God, made the road ahead of both of them a bit less dark and dangerous.  It gave them both more courage to love. 

 

As Fr. Wild wrote:  “[It] will be a glorious and historically significant sight when Catherine’s and Dorothy’s huge beautiful portraits shine together in the brilliant Roman sunlight on the façade of St. Peter’s.”

 

Click here to read Fr. Bob’s article about Catherine Doherty and Dorothy Day.

 


Love One Another...Even at Church

It is an uncomfortable truth that those closest to us are sometimes hardest to love.  Mother Teresa hit the nail painfully on the head when she said it is easier to feed a hungry person a bowl of rice than to love the hurting person in your own home.  This truth applies to our life in the Church, especially within the parish.  Sometimes we look wistfully beyond her doors because those inside seem hardest to love.  Inside the doors of our own parishes, we find thousands of petty ways to judge and harm; we sift one another like wheat!  Whether there are great divisions in our communities, or just incessant pecking at one another, we do great harm to the Body of Christ; we fail the One we claim to love most. 

St. Augustine had a graphic way of putting it – when we claim to love Christ without loving his people, we decapitate his Head from his Body:  “What has the Church done to thee, that thou shouldst wish to decapitate her? Thou wouldst take away her Head, and believe in the Head alone, despising the body. Vain is thy service, and false thy devotion to the Head. For to sever it from the body is an injury to both Head and body.”

If we refuse to love those Christ died for, we empty the Cross of its power.  We work against Christ.  We become the enemy, the sickness in the Body.  Love in the Church is what keeps the arteries open and allows the blood to flow freely through the Body, keeping each member healthy and able to function.  When love fails, the blood of the Church slows and thickens; like body parts deprived of oxygen, members become lifeless and a slow decay sets in.

It is easy to find fault, to excuse ourselves from loving certain individuals who don’t measure up to our own standards – who don’t believe the right things, or say the right things, or make the right decisions.  But when this happens and we find ourselves without love, let us very intentionally stop, look on that person with the loving glance of Christ (Lk. 22:61) and cast on them the mantle of love, for “love hides a multitude of sins” (1 Pt. 4:8).  That is not a platitude from Scripture; it is a demanding truth.  We have the power to cover sin, to neutralize its damaging effects, simply by offering a calm, peaceful, forgiving love, and by leaving behind our judgment and irritation, which only exacerbate the faults of others and rob us of our peace.

When we find it hard to love someone – especially when it is one of our brothers or sisters in Christ, one of the fellow members of his Body – we must turn to Christ and beg for his help – because it is very important to him and to the survival of his Body.  We must go so far as to make him a promise:  “I will not decapitate you, Lord.  I will not work against the power of your Cross, which does not divide but reconciles.”  When we keep this promise, when we love those hardest to love, we become like him, and we discover not only the power but the joy of the Cross.  We release ourselves from our own demands and satisfy only the single command of the Master:  to love.  Following this command, we maintain the health of the Body and bolster the power of the Cross.  And slowly we discover that we have joined in a miraculous plan.  Our love heals and transforms:  those we deemed the “less honorable” parts of the Body (1 Cor. 12:23) become the beating heart of the Church.

 


A Prayer for Women

The role of women in the Passion and Resurrection Narratives in the Gospels should get our attention and lead us to a better understanding of the importance of women in the life and ministry of Jesus as a whole. 

This prayer highlights the relationship between Jesus and the women in his life – those who followed him during his earthly ministry, and those who follow him now:

 

Lord Jesus Christ, your presence was powerful in the lives of women.  You were born of a woman, whom you honored and loved, and who treasured you in her heart (Lk. 2:7, 51).  You revealed yourself to women as the Messiah, the Resurrection, and the Life (Jn. 4:26; 11:25-27).  You were friends with women (Jn. 11:5).  You were welcomed into their homes (Lk. 10:38).  Women travelled with you (Lk. 8:1-3), listened to your words (Lk. 10:39), wept for you (Lk. 23:38), witnessed your death (Mk. 15:41) and proclaimed your Resurrection (Jn. 20:18). 

Lord Jesus, with compassion and power, over and over you healed women of faith and their loved ones (Mk. 5:34; Mt. 15:28).  You expelled demons from the depths of their souls (Mk. 16:9), healed them spiritually by the forgiveness of their sins (Lk. 7:48), and restored them physically, freeing them from the bondage of illness and pain (Lk. 13:16). 

Like the women of the Gospels, we befriend you, we welcome you into our homes, we walk with you, listen to you, weep with you, follow you to the Cross, and witness your empty tomb.  We too have experienced your healing touch and the restoring power of your forgiveness.  Heal us again, Lord, and strengthen us to proclaim with Mary Magdalene, “I have seen the Lord!” (Jn. 20:18).  Amen.


St. John Paul II: My Favorite Story

April 27, 2014, Divine Mercy Sunday

Canonization of Popes John Paul II & John XXIII

Like many Catholics, I took the death of John Paul II very personally.  My memories of watching the funeral on tv are somewhat hazy – it seems I sat on the couch for days, the whole thing playing out in slow motion.  But I do remember a brief interview of a woman in the crowd of mourners.  This woman had travelled all the way from Mexico to attend the pope’s funeral in Italy.  Why, they asked her, why travel so far?  Her answer is my clearest memory from that sad time, probably because for me, it represented who John Paul II was. 

The woman said that when she was a little girl, John Paul II visited Mexico.  The streets of Mexico City were packed – everyone wanted to get a glimpse of the pope.  She said that as the popemobile drove past, somehow, in the midst of the gigantic crowd, their eyes met.  In that moment, as he looked at her, although they were surrounded by a crowd of thousands, it was as though no one else in the world existed – only the two of them.  In that moment of connection, she felt that he loved her.

The power of that moment was enough to motivate this woman to travel halfway across the world to mourn his death and honor his life.  John Paul II was many things; today he will be remembered in many ways.  I remember him for this moment.  A champion of human dignity, he could look at the whole world, and love each one.