Dorothy
Day and the Holy Other
Robert
P. Russo
Reprinted
from the Houston Catholic Worker 35/1
(Jan.-Feb. 2014): 1, 5.
In the
Gospel of Matthew, Jesus encounters a “rich young man” who seeks discipleship,
but who is also unwilling to part with his material wealth. Jesus advises the young man: “If you wish to
be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you
will have treasure in heaven” (Mth. 19:21, NRSV). This instruction has a deeper meaning for all
of humanity, in that to inherit the Kingdom of God, we must give all that we
have in order to obtain all that we need.
Jesus’ response to the rich man seems rather harsh, yet necessary, in
order to experience life in abundance in this world, and in the world to
come. Although the “rich young man”
departs from Jesus in sadness, one is left to wonder what his life of
discipleship might have been like, had he heeded Jesus’ instructions.
Jesus calls us to experience God as the Holy Other. This entails placing the needs of others
before our own, in a radical relationship born out of love for all of God’s
creations—a self-kenosis in which one gives all one has, for the benefit of
others. An example of this type of devotion
can be found in the post-conversion life of Dorothy Day, a “Servant of God,”
who not only dedicated her life to the needs of the impoverished, but who
forewent a fortune as an author, lecturer, Hollywood screenwriter, and a member
of the literary elite.
Day’s life, and her journey towards God, fascinates some members of
society, while many others simply turn away.
Perhaps this is because of her sinful nature before her conversion to
Catholicism, or the fact that once she saw the light of Christ, she lived in a
state of true otherness, placing the welfare of the poor over and above her own
needs as a radical response to Jesus’ command in Matthew’s “Rich Young
Man.”
Day lived within a state of true self-giving for nearly the last fifty-years
of her life, and it was perhaps her focus upon the welfare of others that
caused her to admonish, “Don’t call me a saint.
I don’t want to be dismissed that easily.” Although this statement exemplifies the
saintly virtue of humility, Day’s devotion far exceeded a personal vow of
poverty, as she had been arrested on numerous occasions for protesting against war,
and the unjust treatment of the United Farm Workers under César Chávez.
In August of 1973, Day was arrested and imprisoned for the last time in
Delano, California. She was then aged
seventy-five, frail and in ill-health.
While sitting in prison, Day wrote a letter to the bishops of
California, in which she stated that “We will be calling on all our readers for
support—money, the boycott, the picketing—the giving of time, study and money
to this important movement which strikes at a basic evil in our American Way of
Life, the love of money” (Ellsberg, All
the way, 516).
Day was also shot at by racists, while standing guard at the front gate
of the interracial Koinonia farming community in Americus, Georgia. On one occasion, she had to leap out of the
way of a speeding automobile, intent on hitting her as she picketed for the
striking farm workers in Delano. Her
response to the turmoil she experienced in life was to always treat the other
person as God commanded us. She knew
that poverty was ugly, smelled, and tasted badly. However, a true “Servant of God,” she bore
all of her maladies with kindness and compassion—a response to Jesus’ command
to let all material things go, in order to better serve others out of love.
Day’s letter to the bishops stands as a
testament concerning her future beatification.
Her letter shows that after a near-lifetime of serving those less
fortunate, she understood the deeper meaning behind Jesus’ advice to the “rich
young man.” As the saying goes, one
cannot serve both God and mammon. Day
certainly wrote the teachings of Jesus on her heart, and experienced them as a
radical, lived response to God as the Holy Other—wanting only to help others
who could not help themselves.
