The Sacred Dynamic of Frank Conversation

Last Sunday’s Gospel reading was the familiar story of Martha and Mary (Luke 10:38-42).  As the reading began, I wasn’t expecting to hear anything new.  I know this one; I know the words of Jesus; I know the lesson.

But I was blessed to be surprised.  I was surprised by the words of Martha.  Not because she sounded distressed, or frustrated, or annoyed with her sister.  I wasn’t surprised by her resentment or even her logic. 

I was surprised by how bold she was with Jesus, how frank, how confident.

Thinking back over the Gospels, there were many people who were quite deferential toward Jesus.  They spoke and acted with fitting respect for the masterful teacher and wonder-worker he was.  But there were others who were surprisingly informal with Jesus.  Perfect strangers approached him – they asked him for things, they touched him, they laid their heaviest burdens on him.  Indeed, many who approached Jesus did not just ask; they commanded!  Remember Jairus:  “My daughter is at the point of death.  Come and lay your hands on her” (Mk. 5:23) or Bartimaeus of Jericho:  “Let me see again” (Mk. 10:51).

Martha’s command was just as direct:  “Tell her to help me.”

Certainly the presence of Jesus made people take notice.  There was charisma, authority, even power over the natural world.  But apparently he was not intimidating.  There was something about his presence that drew people close, unmasking them and inviting frank conversation and bold requests.

Now of course, when we are frank and bold with Jesus, he may be frank and bold with us.   Martha may not have liked Jesus’ gentle rebuke.  But John’s Gospel tells us that Jesus loved her (Jn. 11:5), and she certainly knew that.   There was no need for Martha to hide her heart from Jesus.  The honesty, the unmasking, is what allowed Jesus to penetrate that heart, to love it and transform it.  This is the power of honest prayer, the sacred dynamic of frank conversation.

The Coffee Cup 2.0

Last week I was delighted to receive an email from author and peace activist Jim Forest.  You may recall that I turned to Jim’s insights to sort out a bit of hearsay when I was writing about Dorothy Day and the “coffee cup Mass” (a story about a priest celebrating Mass at the Catholic Worker House in New York using a coffee cup and sandwich plate instead of a chalice and paten).  Why did I look to Jim’s word on the matter?  Because he was there!  (It is considered very poor writing to use more than one exclamation mark; that’s the only thing restraining me right now.) 

Jim Forest is a peace legend who worked closely with Dorothy Day, enjoyed the friendship of Thomas Merton, and has shared their legacies and created his own through his work and writing.  Jim emailed me because he was writing up his recollections of “the coffee cup story” for the Dorothy Day Guild.  He appreciated my post from 2014 and offered to send me his memories of the event if I was interested.  Was I interested?  I had to breathe deeply and count to ten before attempting to respond to Jim with restraint and maturity.  Jim Forest!!!!

Below please find my original post republished, followed immediately by Jim’s recollections of Fr. Dan Berrigan’s “coffee cup Mass.”  Note that in the fuzzy version I originally heard, the cup was styrofoam (supposedly the cup of the people!), but Jim was clear that the Catholic Worker never would have used styrofoam or any kind of “throw-away” cups.  He remembered a solid white cup:  “It might have had a blue line near the lip on the cup’s outer surface.”  And to think that cup may lie buried somewhere in New York!

It’s funny that a story about such a seemingly minor incident has stirred up so much interest.  I think it has everything to do with the way Dorothy fascinates us.  She can’t be pigeonholed or placed into one of our neat Catholic categories.  She’s just the real deal.

Same goes for Jim Forest, by the way.

The Coffee Cup

by Amy Ekeh

Originally published August 21, 2014

There’s an old story about Dorothy Day and a coffee cup.  It’s a story that’s gone around a bunch of times, told by many people, all representing Dorothy in their own way.  Like the game of “telephone,” in which the message spoken by the first player at the beginning of the game is completely warped by the time it reaches the last player at the end of the game, the coffee cup story has actually morphed into two distinct versions of what most certainly was one actual event.

In both versions of the story, a Mass was celebrated at Dorothy Day’s Catholic Worker House in New York City.  Apparently, instead of a chalice, the priest chose to use a styrofoam coffee cup.  The two versions of the story developed around Dorothy’s reaction.  One account says that Dorothy was perturbed, even horrified, by the idea of using a coffee cup in the celebration of the Mass.  It wasn’t fitting; it dishonored the Lord.  This version of events says that after Mass, Dorothy found the coffee cup and carefully buried it in the earth behind the house, bringing some closure to what Dorothy felt was an error in judgment and a bit of scandal in her House.

The other version of the story says that Dorothy was profoundly touched by the use of the coffee cup.  A small, white, styrofoam coffee cup is the cup of the people, it is the cup of workers, the cup of the poor.  It was perfectly fitting and even profound to use it in the sacrifice of the Mass; it honored the Lord.  Whether or not Dorothy buried the cup in this version of events is unclear.  But what is clear is the idea that this Eucharistic cup embraced the plight of the poor.  The coffee cup brought together the suffering of Christ and the very real situation of human poverty.

The fascinating thing about this story is that from what I know of Dorothy Day, either version could be true.  Dorothy was what you might call authentically Catholic.  She embraced the liturgy in all of its meaning and symbolism.  She understood it; she lived it.  But she also embraced the poor – their marginalization, their pain, her own responsibility toward them.  She understood and lived that as well.  Dorothy Day was not predictable or classifiable.   She was just Catholic.  She was just faithful.

In our contemporary American Church, where would Dorothy Day fit in?  Would her reaction to the coffee cup place her in a certain “camp”?  I doubt that either side of our polarized Church would be 100% comfortable with Dorothy.  And I doubt Dorothy would spend one minute worrying about it. 

After writing this, I did some digging (not literally) and it seems that the most likely “true story” is somewhere in the middle (as usual).  Jim Forest, a close associate and biographer of Dorothy Day, writes that after the “coffee cup Mass”, Dorothy said nothing but simply buried the coffee cup (and the sandwich plate that was used as a paten!) in the back yard. She was always happy to have a Mass and did not criticize the way the priest chose to celebrate it.  But as in all things, she wanted things to be right.  I also found this striking commentary about Dorothy, also by Jim Forest:

“We live in a post-Christian world.  Christian activity and Christian belief are not normal, even among Christians.  Most of us are constantly trying to conform ourselves to the people at the front of the crowd, so that our religious activities aren’t too ridiculous and too embarrassing and too isolating.  Dorothy Day was able to work through that and to find the place where she would be free to be a believer.  And when you are with one of those people, it hits you pretty hard.”

Dorothy Day and the Coffee Cup Mass

by Jim Forest

June 29, 2016

Question from the Dorothy Day Guild:  We are reviewing a story that I know you are familiar with—perhaps witnessed—Dan Berrigan or another priest used a coffee cup as a chalice, Dorothy buried it in the yard, and so on.  Our question is—did it really happen? And were you a witness? Have others said they witnessed this? Seems to be some disagreement among people we talk to.  Thanks for any light you can shine.

Aware that my memory is not always reliable and that these events occurred half-a-century ago, I’ll do my best…

Dan Berrigan was the celebrant, as happened from time to time at St Joseph’s House. His liturgical style was simple and not entirely by the book. He might on occasion choose readings according to what he judged appropriate to the day and the historic moment rather than the church calendar and do some of the prayers with a degree of improvisation, though always preserving the core elements….  At the Catholic Worker probably there was less improvisation – he knew Dorothy was made uncomfortable by liturgical innovation.

At least on one occasion he used a very plain ceramic coffee cup and a matching small plate as chalice and paten. I recall glancing at Dorothy and noting a grimace. But she made no complaint and indeed took part in communion and afterward, as far as I recall, only expressed her gratitude. But then, when nearly everyone had gone, she took the cup and plate and said it must be buried as, having held the body and blood of Christ, could not any longer be used for coffee. I don’t recall with certitude that I saw her actually bury the cup and plate. In my memory I have a snapshot image of her doing so but that may be my envisioning something I knew about but didn’t actually witness. The image I have is of her being in the small rectangle of land behind St Joseph’s House and placing cup and plate in a hole she had dug with a garden tool.

Soon afterward I was at Mount Saviour Benedictine monastery near Elmira in upstate New York. After telling their famous potter, Brother Thomas, what I had witnessed, he gave me one of the chalice sets he had made for sale in the monastery shop, entrusting me to give the set to Dan, which I did soon after, at which time I told him about what Dorothy’s response to the coffee cup Mass had been. I recall Dan was very touched with the gift chalice and paten and used them on many occasions afterward, and not only at the Catholic Worker….

When did the coffee cup Mass happen? I’m not sure. My best guess was late 1965 or January 1966, as Dorothy writes, in her February 1966 “On Pilgrimage” column, “I am afraid I am a traditionalist, in that I do not like to see Mass offered with a large coffee cup as a chalice.” However Dorothy makes no reference to a specific priest or Mass. The Mass that Francene Gray describes so vividly (Divine Disobedience, Knopf, 1970) occurred the day after Tom Cornell started serving his six-month sentence for draft card burning — that would put the Mass on June 27, 1968. Francene’s account makes no mention of Dan using a coffee cup as a chalice but it may be that he did.

For the most up-to-date revisions of Jim's recollections, visit:  http://jimandnancyforest.com/2016/07/dorothy-day-dan-berrigan-and-the-coffee-cup-mass/.

Jim Forest now lives in Holland with his wife Nancy.  His latest book is entitled Loving Our Enemies: Reflections on the Hardest Commandment.  To be published soon:  The Root of War Is Fear: Thomas Merton's Advice to Peacemakers.  Visit Jim and Nancy at jimandnancyforest.com.  

Cup 3 by Jim Forest.  Published with permission.

"Praised by Happy Voices"

Maybe it’s the Texas girl in me, but I’m finding peace in these long summer evenings.  It’s just the right time of year to share with you one of my favorite evening prayers, a lingering companion from my Episcopal days.  I remember so clearly the little chapel at Holy Nativity where we used to say this prayer together in the evenings. 

The Phos Hilaron is an ancient Christian hymn – one of the oldest we have outside of the New Testament (several New Testament writers incorporate hymns or hymn fragments into their work, such as the familiar hymn of the self-emptying of Jesus included by Paul in his letter to the Philippians; see Phil. 2:6-11).

We don’t know who wrote this lovely prayer, but we do know it has been around since at least the 3rd century.  St. Basil, writing in the 4th century, referred to the Phos Hilaron as an already cherished prayer of the Church.

The hymn, which refers to the “vesper” (or “evening”) light, was sung at the lighting of lamps in the evening, a joyful testimony to the light of the world.

Phos Hilaron

O gracious Light,
pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven,
O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!

Now as we come to the setting of the sun,
and our eyes behold the vesper light,
we sing your praises, O God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices,
O Son of God, O Giver of life,
and to be glorified through all the worlds.

* * * * * * * * * *

A pdf of the prayer can be found here if you wish to print it:  Phos Hilaron (pdf).

He Also Bled Here

“Christ comes to dwell among us.
This earth has borne His imprint and we walk on it.
Each step of ours an adventure in faith, love, hope.
How can we not love this earth upon which He walked?
How can we not get from it the strength that the imprints of His feet left there?
Because, you know, His footsteps are still in its dust,
and His blood is still mixed with it.”

— Servant of God Catherine Doherty

This quote was shared with me by Scott Eagan of Madonna House, Combermere, Ontario.

Guest Blog: "Slow Down, Mom"

My guest blogger today is my dear friend, college roommate and “soul-sister,” Jeanne Canavan.  Jeanne and her husband are the proud parents of Veronica, a delightful young lady adopted from Poland several years ago, and the soon-to-be parents of Victoria, another little girl from the same orphanage.  Jeanne is also the vice principal at a Catholic K-8 school in Virginia.

I asked Jeanne to write this blog post because she said something to me that I thought was worthy of every parent’s reflection.  Jeanne said she believes that the particular children we have – whether biological or adopted – are given to us to heal us.  We may find some aspect of our child especially difficult to deal with, especially challenging, especially annoying or especially impossible.  This is probably the “part” of our child that is meant to stretch us, change us, and ultimately, as Jeanne said, heal us.   

Jeanne, thank you for sharing your wisdom with us!

* * * * * * * * * *

June can be very challenging for families whose children begin to struggle as academic goals become more difficult and motivation to be in school decreases.  Thoughts of summer fill our heads, and yet we want to diligently finish the remaining work and prepare well for the next chapter in life or at school.  

At the age of seven Willard Wigan – now a world-famous artist – already hated school.  He was a complete misfit there – ill-behaved, not meeting benchmarks, at times seemingly dazed and confused, at others angry and withdrawn.  He just didn't fit in.  

I work in a school and sometimes meet with parents whose kids don't like school, and more importantly, aren't successful there, either academically, socially or behaviorally.  There is nothing like the look on the faces of a mom and dad who realize they have a long, dark road ahead: Johnny or Sue, Blaze or Tucker . . . simply do not fit the mold.  

One reason it's easier for me to connect with these moms and dads is that my little girl was in that exact situation starting toward the end of kindergarten.  I remember the frustration of realizing that her special needs meant that traditional settings would be very challenging for her and for us.  I also remember the morning I woke up and realized that performance at school was not the “end all be all.”

I distinctly remember God's inspiration: "Think of her special need as something designed to change you and what you view as important. Your life's work, your vocation is to love her exactly as she is."  That thought floored me.  About me.  My life's work.  I couldn't imagine a more difficult task than loving my child exactly as she is.  

And yet...I know and believe that God does that for me and each one of us with ease and simplicity.  His love is uncomplicated, pure, discreet . . . not like mine on occasion with my daughter . . . explosive, demanding, impatient, and hurried.

"Slow down, slow down, Mom; I can't walk that fast. Slow down, slow down, Mom.  I see something in the grass here.  Slow down, slow down, Mom.  I have a question."  It seems "slow down" is God's way of taking my goals and pride out of the equation and infusing my life with His priorities.  

Willard Wigan's mom was patient with him, however.  It didn't bother her too much that he didn't fit in; she just wanted him to find a place where he did.  When he was seven years old, Willard presented her with a tiny little town for a colony of ants to use.  He had made it from matches and matchboxes.

And no, she didn't yell at him. She didn't tell him that he had made a mess. She didn't throw it away or become angry that he brought ants into the house.  She simply said, "Son, you're good at this.  Do this!"  

And he did.  

Willard is now a world-renowned miniature artist who makes art so minuscule that most of it cannot be seen with the naked eye. Some of his pieces are small enough to fit in the eye of a needle.   He works in the middle of the night so that cars passing on the road do not disrupt the tiny motions of his specially designed tools.  

Perhaps if his mother had not loved Willard exactly as he was in that exact moment, the world never would have seen just what wonders a small boy grown could produce.  

So this summer, between helping her learn to type, or working on his gait, or driving her to algebra camp, make time in your schedule to let your kids just be.  Cherish them as they are.  If you feel yourself wanting them to change, instead, let them change you.

Williard Wigan created this micro-sculpture of Christ the Redeemer inside the eye of a needle.  He used a fly hair (yes, a hair from a fly’s head) as a paintbrush.  Click here for a short video.

This picture of Jeanne and Veronica was taken at an “emergency” trip to the hairdresser after Veronica decided to cut her own hair in order to surprise her mother.