Against The Grain

Monday, November 28, 2005

It is no use saying that we are born two thousand years too late to give room to Christ. Nor will those who live at the end of the world have been born too late. Christ is always with us, always asking for room in our hearts. Yet now it is with the voice of our contemporaries that he speaks, with the eyes of store clerks, factory workers, and children that he gazes; with the hands of office workers, slum dwellers, and suburban housewives that he gives. It is with the feet of soldiers and tramps that he walks, and with the heart of anyone in need that he longs for shelter. And giving shelter or food to anyone who asks for it, or needs it, is giving it to Christ.

- Dorothy Day (Source: Bruderhof.com: Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas.)

Labels: dorothy day

Friday, June 17, 2005

On "The Preferential Option for the Poor"

Catholics who are the least bit aquainted with the social doctrine of the Church have encountered the term "preferential option for the poor." According to Charles Curran, the phrase has its origins in the "liberation theology" espoused by radical Catholic theologians in Latin America (excerpt from Catholic Social Teaching Georgetown UP, 2002).

In an article for the U.S. Catholic (Why the preferential option for the poor is not optional, November 1997), Jack Jezreel chronicles the use of the phrase from a 1979 pastoral document by the Latin American Bishops, to the 1986 statement "Economic Justice for All", revisited in 1994's "Communities of Salt and Light", as well as pontificate of Pope John Paul II.

[Update 6/19/05 -- According to one reader, the phrase "first appeared in official episcopal documents in the SECOND Latin American Episcopal Conference, that of Medellin, in 1968 -- the Liberation Theology movement in many ways grew out of this meeting. It is in the last pages of the Medellin documents, under the heading "Preferencia y Solidaridad"." Thanks!]

Pope John Paul II spoke of this preferential option on many occasions, preferring the term "preferential love for the poor" -- the website The Social Agenda, a collection of Magisterial texts compiled by the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace, from which we offer two excerpts that convey a sense of this "preferential option":

It will not be superfluous therefore to reexamine and further clarify in this light the characteristic themes and guidelines dealt with by the Magisterium in the recent years. Here I would like to indicate one of them: the preferential option or love of preference for the poor. This is an option, a special form of primacy in the exercise of Christian charity, to which the whole tradition of the Church bears witness. It affects the life of each Christian inasmuch as he or she seeks to imitate the life of Christ, but it applies equally to our social responsibilities and hence to our manner of living, and to the logical decisions to be made concerning our ownership and the use of goods. (Sollicitudo Rei Socialis, n. 42)

In seeking to promote human dignity, the Church shows a preferential love of the poor and voiceless, because the Lord has identified himself with them in special way (cf. Mt 25:40). This love excludes no one, but simply embodies a priority of service to which the whole Christian tradition bears witness. This love of preference for the poor, and the decisions which it inspires in us, cannot but embrace the immense multitudes of the hungry, the needy, the homeless, those without medical care and, above all, those without hope of a better future. (Ecclesia in Asia, n. 34)

It should not suprise us that the phrase itself is subject to a wide variety of interpretations, often reflecting the political and spiritual orientation of the individual.

For instance, operating in the spirit of St. Francis, the Catholic Worker movement advocates the adoption of voluntary poverty. According to the Catholic Worker "Manifesto" Aims and Means:

"The mystery of poverty is that by sharing in it, making ourselves poor in giving to others, we increase our knowledge and belief in love." (Dorothy Day) By embracing voluntary poverty, that is, by casting our lot freely with those whose impoverishment is not a choice, we would ask for the grace to abandon ourselves to the love of God. It would put us on the path to incarnate the Church's "preferential option for the poor."

In his thoughtful post Blessed Are They The Poor in Spirit: A Catholic View of Economics (Cooperatores Veritatis June 7, 2003) Greg Mockeridge contends that the "preferential option" entails the necessary inclusion of those in need, helping the poor to better themselves, to improve their economic conditions by putting their creativity to use in the workplace and becoming financially self-sufficient:

The genius in the cultivation of resources and economic success finds its fulfillment in the preferential option for the poor. A society whose economic activity is exclusive to anyone because of race or social class cannot truthfully claim economic prosperity despite superficial appearances of it. In ignoring the poor, society not only fails in its duty to help those in need, but also deprives itself of the beneficial contribution of ingenuity that is gained by those who, through their circumstances, have discovered ways to make astoundingly productive use from the most meager resources. Growing up in a large blue-collar family myself, I know first hand how to make abundances from the scantiest of means. This sort of ingenuity has been the hallmark of American economic prosperity. We have seen immigrants come to this country with nothing more than faith in God and gratitude for their freedom build economic empires. The preferential option for the poor is not a political play toy exploiting the needy by creating an unhealthy dependence on government programs nor is it "...exclusive or discriminatory toward other groups", (Centesimus Annus n 57), but a recognition that the economic chain is only as strong as its weakest link.

In Reforming Our Attitudes (Religion & Liberty September / October 1995), Fr. Robert Sirico, President of the Acton Institute, discusses how we can practice Christian charity in ways which recognize the innate human dignity of the poor:

First, we can no longer believe that the call of compassion is satisfied by simply writing a check. The poor are asking for much more than our money. We must begin to make the more difficult sacrifices of our time, energy and talents. We must go to the poor where they live and enter into their poverty in order to help them rise above it. In our efforts to help those suffering the effects of poverty, dollars may be the least important consideration.

Another attitude that must change is our tendency to believe that as individuals we cannot make a meaningful contribution. When faced with a homeless person, the temptation is to think “What could I, with my limited experience and resources, do?” We therefore turn to simply giving money. We need to rethink this response and consider other ways we can contribute; perhaps volunteering at a private shelter, or maybe starting a shelter where there is none, or even having a conversation with a homeless person, as a person, and ask them what they truly need. This is the more radical approach because it requires that we listen to the poor and allow them to become part of the solution — not just the target of our pity.

A third attitude we must adopt is that we no longer view the poor as incapable. One of the most egregious faults of current government programs is the hidden assumption that the poor will always remain poor. While admitting that some people suffer from more than the effects of poverty which prevent them from becoming productive members of society, many of those receiving government assistance can contribute to the elevation of their standard of living. The poor themselves have to be a part of the solution to their own problems. Requiring some level of participation and responsibility on the part of individuals will offer the opportunity for more than dollars or a job, it will offer the opportunity for self-esteem.

Fr. Sirico's approach strikes me as being suprisingly close to Dorothy Day's -- at least in spirit, if not in policy. Browse through her extensive writings and you'll encounter a strong believer in personal responsibility and self-empowerment, highly critical of state-sanctioned welfare and handouts which leave the poor in a state of dependency.

Contrary to the Catholic Workers of today who indulge in either general dismissals or denunciations of "the neocons", I believe Ms. Day would have the desire and the capacity to truly listen to somebody like Fr. Sirico, or Michael Novak for that matter. They may not see eye to eye on the merits of the free market, but it's likely that they would have discovered common ground in an appreciation of the personalism and social thought of Pope John Paul II.

* * *

In his pastoral letter A Time for Honesty, addressing the scandal of "pro-choice politicians" and the argument that "the Church has many social teachings and abortion is one of them," Rev. John J. Myers, Archbishop of Newark, took a moment to clarify the Church's position on social teaching -- given the nature of this post it seems fitting to close with his words:

The Church's social teaching is a diverse and rich tradition of moral truths and biblical insights applied to the political, economic, and cultural aspects of our society. All Catholics should form and inform their conscience in accordance with these teachings. But reasonable Catholics can (and do) disagree about how to apply these teachings in various situations.

For example, our preferential option for the poor is a fundamental aspect of this teaching. But, there are legitimate disagreements about the best way or ways truly to help the poor in our society. No Catholic can legitimately say, "I do not care about the poor." If he or she did so this person would not be objectively in communion with Christ and His Church. But, both those who propose welfare increases and those who propose tax cuts to stimulate the economy may in all sincerity believe that their way is the best method really to help the poor. This is a matter of prudential judgment made by those entrusted with the care of the common good. It is a matter of conscience in the proper sense.

Related Links & Resources

The online archives of The Acton Institute offer much food for thought on how we can engage in effective compassion and assist the poor and financially impoverished. Here are just a few:

In Human Capital and Poverty (Religion & Liberty January/February 1998), Gery Becker notes that "Human capital, e.g., the skills, education, and values of an individual, constitutes our most valuable and available resource for ameliorating poverty."
In Effective Aid to the Poor, Dr. Digby Anderson, Director of the London-based Social Affairs Unit, addresses the two challenges which poverty-relief faces: Generosity and Efficiency:
Giving away money is easy, provided you’ve got enough in the first place. But giving away money efficiently is very difficult. And that remains true whether the donor is the state, a voluntary association, or an individual. . . . The modern church rightly tells the rich to give to the poor. It presents the problem as one of lack of generosity. And so, in part, it is. But the church has little to say about how the poor are to be identified, how much each one should get, how to establish priorities among claims for charity, which forms of help are best, and how to avoid help becoming harm.
In Poverty, Virtue, and Grace (1996 Lord Acton Essay), Fr. Robert Johansen -- yes, of the blog Thrown Back -- draws upon the thought of Lord Acton, who "held the conviction, expressed by Christian thinkers throughout history, that poverty is not a merely material problem, but a moral and spiritual problem as well."
John Paul II’s Use of the Term Neo-Liberalism in Ecclesia in America, by Michel Therrien. Based on a paper delivered at the Pontifical College Josephinum April 8, 2000.
Finally, Fr. Neuhaus illustrates the need for civil dialogue on such matters between Catholics in "Against Neoliberalism" (First Things 95 August/September 1999: 80-99.):
The Zwicks’ essay is an extended polemic against neoconservatism, a.k.a. neoliberalism, a.k.a. capitalism. So, as might be expected, Michael Novak, George Weigel, and Father Robert Sirico come in for very unfavorable mention. The neoliberalism supported by this writer and his friends, say the editors, "mows down people who are in other countries through slave wages, international trade agreements and torture taught at the School of the Americas to ensure that ‘freedom’ prevails. It is very violent." But the Zwicks go beyond the usual suspects. They write, "Another well–respected priest, Fr. Avery Dulles, S.J., defends slave wages as being better than no wages." Fr. Dulles is not simply a well–respected priest, he is undoubtedly the most widely respected Catholic theologian in the United States (to whom, not incidently, Appointment in Rome is dedicated). And, if one really wanted to press the point, might one not be able to make the case that low wages, even very low wages, are better than no wages at all? But, in fact, what the Catholic Worker says is false.
Fr. Dulles tells me that he remembers meeting the Zwicks at a meeting in Washington and, in private conversation, asked them what they thought of the argument of an acquaintance of his who does business in Latin America and claims that, although the wages he pays are low by North American standards, they are much higher than his workers could otherwise obtain. He says he does not recall how the Zwicks responded to his question, if they did. Since then, however, they have more than once published the claim that Fr. Dulles "defends slave wages" in Latin America. Such libel does nothing to enhance the legacy of Dorothy Day which the Catholic Worker supposedly champions.
Surely, as reasonable Catholics, we can do better?

Update - A good follow-up discussion of this issue at the Catholic legal theory blog Mirror of Justice:

Mark Sargent asks How Elastic Is the Preferential Option for the Poor? (6/20/05)
MOJ colleague Rick Garnett counters inThe Prefential Option: A follow-up (6/21/05)
Another lively discussion by the Commentariat at Amy Welborn. (6/22/05)
A thought in progress @ Disputations:
If poverty is an economic problem to be solved, then it's not my problem; I can barely handle my own economic problems, much less help others with theirs. If it's an economic debate, it's not my debate.
And if it's an economic problem or debate, it's not really the Church's problem or debate, in any particular way. All the Church would have to do is remind everyone of the basic moral principles, then let the economists and policy makers go to town.
But I don't think that's what the Church says. I don't think she regards poverty as a problem to be solved so much as a sorrow to be joined in. . . .
The Gospel is not an economic development plan. The Kingdom of God is not a matter of eating or of drinking. Those of us who can speak of "the poor" rather than "we poor" must be in communion with those who can't, to share the life of the Spirit with them. Not in a patronizing way, assuring them they'll be just fine once they're dead; but in the way Christians were once known for loving each other.

Labels: dorothy day, theology

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

The Inspiration of St. Therese of Lisieux

St. Therese and the Bohemians - Santiago (of Causa Belli and the newer, less politically-oriented blog Constantly Risking) has written a post on the attraction of the Little Flower, St. Therese:

An interesting phenomenon I've noticed in my reading is that of the hip, young, radical writer encountering the meek St. Therese of Lisieux. I guess it’s fair to say that I don’t have enough evidence to claim that this phenomenon constitutes a universal pattern, but it’s happened more than once, maybe three times. It usually goes like this: a young writer says, "What could this little bourgeois girl possibly know about God and the plight of the modern believer?" Then the young writer reads her work and is a bit astonished to find out the answer: Quite a lot.

Santiago cites as three examples: Thomas Merton (Seven Storey Mountain); Tony Hendra (Father Joe: The Man Who Saved My Soul) and Michael Novak (who discusses his encounter in "Controversial Engagements" First Things 92 (April 1999): 21-29.).

It is an interesting phenomenon, and one other bohemian comes to mind -- Dorothy Day, co-founder of the Catholic Worker movement, who was introduced to The Story of a Soul by her confessor, Father Zachary, in 1928:

. . . an unbound book which had a tan cover with a not too attractive picture of a young nun with a sweet, insipid face, holding a crucifix and a huge bouquet of roses. I was by now familiar with the statutes of this little sister which were to be seen in every church. . . . I wasn't looking for anything so simple and felt slightly aggrieved at Father Zachary. Men, and priests too, were very insulting to women, I thought, handing out what they felt suited to their intelligence; in other words, pious pap.

I dutifully read The Story of a Soul and am ashamed to confess that I found it colorless, monotonous, too small in fact for my notice. . . . Joan of Arc leading an army fitted more into my concept of a saint, familar as I was with the history of labor with its martyrs in the service of their brothers. "Love of a brother is to lay down one's life on the barricades, in revolt against the hunger and injustice of the world," I told Father Zachary, trying to convert him to my point of view.

At that time, Day was working for the Anti-Imperialist League, a Communist Party affiliate. Eventually, with the encouragement of Fr. Zachary, she came to distance herself from Marxism (although remaining committed to the poor and least among us). Likewise, she gradually came to discover -- along with Thomas Merton, Michael Novak, and other young bohemians -- the power and glory of The Little Flower.

Dorothy came to write her own book on St. Therese, detailing those aspects of Theresa's life that touched her most, as a way of introducing the saint to the rest of the Catholic Workers. She closes the book with the following passage from Pope Pius XII:

The dazzling genius of Augustine, the luminous wisdom of Thomas Aquinas, have shed forth upon souls the rays of an imperishable splendor; through them, Christ and his doctrine have become better known. The divine poem lived out by Francis of Assisi has given to the world an imitation, as yet unequaled, of the life of God made man. Through him legions of men and women have learned to love God more perfectly. But a little Carmelite who had hardly reached adult age has conquered in less than half a century innumerable hosts of disciples. Doctors of the law have become children at her school; the Supreme Shepherd has exalted her and prays to her with humale and assiduous supplications; and even at this moment from one end of the earth to the other, there are millions of souls whose interior life has received the beneficient influence of the little book, The Autobiography.

Labels: dorothy day

Monday, July 14, 2003

Margaret Sanger, meet Dorothy Day

Interesting meditation by Stephen Hand -- like me, another reader of periodicals on both ends of the ideological spectrum -- on the strange juxtaposition of Margaret Sanger (founder of Planned Parenthood) and Dorothy Day (co-founder of The Catholic Worker) on the front cover of the liberal rag The Nation. I wonder what would have happened if these two radically-different 'American rebels' met each other face-to-face?

Labels: dorothy day

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

The Witness of Thomas Merton and Dorothy Day

Amy Wellborn says that "if you are an American Catholic, Paul Elie's new book The Life You Save May Be Your Own belongs on your bookshelf, and, more importantly, belongs in your hands, open, being read" -- which may be reason enough to stop reading this, run to your bookstore and get a copy right now. I started it a couple days ago and am enjoying it immensely.

I've read mixed opinions of Thomas Merton and Dorothy Day by various members of St. Blog's parish, and they are indeed the most controversial of the American Catholic writers portrayed in Elie's book (the other two being Walker Percy and Flannery O'Connor).

Merton's spiritual autobiography Seven Storey Mountain was well-recieved not only by the American public but readers around the world, through which he acquired a kind of 'celebrity status' as one of the most popular Catholic personalities in the twentieth century. However, his counter-cultural participation in the peace movement, sharp criticism of the U.S. during the Vietnam and Cold War tarnished his reputation in the eyes of those readers who percieved him as a traditional Catholic.

Likewise, Merton's appreciation and engagement with Hinduism, Buddhism and Sufism in the later years of his life -- anticipating, I believe, the interreligious dialogue proposed by Vatican II's Nostra Aetate -- was heavily criticized and portrayed by some as an abandonment of his Catholic faith.

There are many sides to Merton, as evidenced by the recollections of several close friends and discussed in Robert Royal's essay The Several-Storied Thomas Merton (First Things January 1997, pp. 34-38), and despite such criticism I find myself agreeing with Royal's assessment that:

Merton's true greatness lies in having engaged in person the whole range of challenges and trials of life in the late twentieth century and yet remaining essentially faithful to his Catholic inspiration. . . . His personal turmoil and the misjudgments in his social thought notwithstanding, he is a forceful reminder that what may appear the most rarefied of contemplative speculations have powerful and concrete implications for the world. God dealt Thomas Merton a difficult hand. His greatness as a man lies not only in that he was able, more or less, to keep several different persons together in difficult times under the banner of "Thomas Merton," but that he provides an enduring witness to all of us much less gifted seekers who have to shore up our own fragmentary lives in quest for the "hidden wholeness."

* * *

There is not a great deal in Dorothy Day's religious thought and behavior that would invite criticism from traditional Catholic critics. According to Jim Forest:

Whether traveling or home, it was a rare day when Dorothy didn’t go to Mass, while on Saturday evenings she went to confession. Sacramental life was the rockbed of her existence. She never obliged anyone to follow her example, but God knows she gave an example. When I think of her, the first image that comes to mind is Dorothy on her knees praying before the Blessed Sacrament either in the chapel at the farm or in one of several urban parish churches near the Catholic Worker. One day, looking into the Bible and Missal she had left behind when summoned for a phone call, I found long lists of people, living and dead, whom she prayed for daily.

However, like Merton, Dorothy Day was a prominent critic of modern culture, and her unwavering solidarity with and service to the poor, unflinching pacifism, and vehement criticism of Western capitalist consumerism placed her at odds with many in society, especially the economically-advantaged.

Sadly enough, while some may have legitimate differences with Dorothy's politics, there are also critics who like to dredge up Dorothy's past, including the fact that she was a divorcee (from a "common-law" marriage) and had an abortion in her bohemian days. While they see this as grounds for opposition, I find it all the more reason to celebrate her life as a testimony to God's abundant grace and forgiveness. Perhaps they ought to listen to Cardinal O'Connor, who recognized that it was Dorothy's very opposition to abortion that made her an appropriate model for our time, and advanced the cause for her Beatification and Canonization in 1997.

* * *

I encountered the writings of both Thomas Merton and Dorothy Day as a junior in college, then a lapsed Christian engaged in intellectual flirtation with existentialism, radical politics and Eastern religion. Zen & the Birds of Appetite was the first book of Merton's I ever read, and provided me with an impressive incredible example of how a Christian can engage in interfaith dialogue with clarity and wisdom. Shortly thereafter, curiousity aroused by conversations with a Catholic Worker friend, I read Dorothy Day's spiritual autobiography The Long Loneliness, and as one questioning whether religious faith and political commitment were in irrevocable conflict (aka. Marx), Dorothy provided a worthy example of how to integrate the two.

I can honestly say that without the spiritual influence of both writers, I probably wouldn't be writing this blog today, and for that I'd heartily second Amy Welborn's recommendation.

Labels: dorothy day, merton