Living a Hidden Life

I recently came across an article by Fr. David May, a priest of Madonna House, the apostolate founded by Catherine Doherty.  I asked permission to share it here because I thought it would speak to many of you. 

As human beings, I think we have a natural desire for greatness.  Of course, greatness can be defined in many ways.  In this article, Fr. David May describes the greatness of an ordinary life, the kind of life Jesus lived during those hidden years in Nazareth, the kind of quiet, ordinary life that most of us lead every day. 

Fr. May describes six joys of Nazareth – six challenges of our ordinary lives – and encourages us to embrace this path of love and thereby embrace Christ himself.  As the Gospels tell us time and again, it is the small things that have the potential to be great.

Thank you to Fr. David May and Madonna House Publications for sharing this reflection with us.

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“The Joys of Nazareth”

By Fr. David May

Society offers us many “joys.” We are all too familiar with them, sometimes to our embarrassment as Christians. The media proposes to us the joys of material prosperity and the joy of being young, athletic, and popular. We are invited to reach for the joy of the ever better, the ever exciting, the ever new experience.

There is an unceasing search for the joy of the perfect relationship—the mirage of being perfectly understood. Others invest their energies in the joy of power over others or in enjoying various pleasures with reckless abandon. Many admire the one who rejoices in being “cool” and “always in control” of his destiny. We think, If only I could be so self-assured.

A Christian is called to live joyously, but he rejoices principally in the Lord who loves him and saves him. When we say to the Lord, You are my joy, my happiness lies in you alone, he smiles upon us with great tenderness. And he offers us some treasures straight from his heart, treasures which I call “the joys of Nazareth.”

1. Going unnoticed

First, there is the joy of going unnoticed. You know, you pour yourself out preparing a lovely meal, weeding the garden, putting in extra time at work or at the parish—and no one notices. You hardly get a perfunctory “thanks.” You find yourself taken for granted like the proverbial old shoe.

Whoever notices an old shoe anyway? You put it on, it serves you quietly and without fanfare, and when you’re finished with it, you toss it under the bed or into the closet. You never give it a second thought, let alone a fresh coat of polish! And your Father who sees all that is done in secret will reward you (Mt 6:4).

2. Being noticed at the wrong time

And then there’s the joy of being noticed—at the wrong time! Just when you’re at your very worst—losing your temper, putting a dent in the car, burning the bacon, saying something foolish—then everybody notices!

Suddenly you become the center of conversation, or at least of sideways glances. The spotlight is now on you. And so you stand there, naked, your weaknesses exposed, not only to yourself (bad enough) but to others (humiliating). Family life in particular is chocked full of such fare.

Rejoice, blessed one, you have just received the second joy of Nazareth!

3. Boredom

Third, there is the joy of being bored. Nazareth is by nature a series of many monotonous moments: feeding the little ones, peeling the spuds, emptying the trash, swishing out the toilet bowl, fixing the car. All of these are daily fare, hardly scintillating in themselves. But monotony is also a treasure for those with eyes to see. Repetition offers our hearts and minds the freedom to pray. For example, the Jesus prayer: “Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” This prayer allows us to enter as little children into the heart of God. Repetition is an occasion to purify our hearts of useless noise and to enter into silence.

Few seem aware of this, but it is true. And boredom offers us yet another gospel gem: the chance to act out of love alone, with no other apparent compensation.

4. Your time is not your own

Another joy of Nazareth is that of not having time to do what we would like. Just when you have set aside those  precious few hours or minutes for yourself to read that book, enjoy your hobby, listen to music, pray, or just sit quietly, the roof, so to speak, caves in. There is a crisis, someone needs immediate attention, the plumbing bursts, the roast is sizzling into ashes, etc., etc.

The days go by and run into months and years of this. I have no time for myself any more. My own life is not even my own! But it is then that the Lord smiles upon us, and the words of St. Paul can rise up from our hearts: I live now not with my own life, but with the life of Christ who lives in me… I cannot bring myself to give up God’s gift (Gal 2:20-21).

5. Misunderstandings

The fifth joy of Nazareth is that of not being perfectly understood. Perhaps you have had the experience. Even those who love us most dearly and know us the best, often do not really grasp the deepest movements of our hearts. This can be a shock at first, a source of bitter disappointment as time goes on. But it can also be a joy if we use such painful moments to enter the bittersweet world of our solitude.

And what do we learn there in the heart of loneliness? We learn that we are made for God alone, and that he alone knows us as we long to be known. And he alone loves us as we long to be loved.

6. Interruptions

The sixth joy of Nazareth is that of being fragmented and dispersed by the demands of life. We are pushed and pulled this way and that, seldom getting anything done the way we had intended. In fact, life seems to be a great series of unfinished projects. For those who love order, this can be excruciating.

A greater pattern

But gradually we come to see that our life is part of a greater pattern whose magnificent dimensions are beyond our ability to grasp. It is our Father who is the Source of this plan. He asks us to be content to be nourished by him moment by moment. The Bread he offers us is Jesus himself, who will teach us to trust and to be a child. In him, after all, all things hold together (Col 1:17).

The ultimate joy of Nazareth is, of course, you and me—us—together, not in the greeting card sense of such terms, but in the bare-boned reality of our call to live together as families of love in all our poverty and in all our glory.

The great miracle

Union in love is, was, and always will be the great Christian miracle, the one for which Jesus prayed so earnestly: so that my own joy may be in you and your joy be complete. This is my commandment: love one another as I have loved you (Jn 15:11-12).

Such love is the flowering of God’s life within us, rooted in the good soil of hearts made great through embracing the ordinary. For, wonder of wonders, when we embrace the everyday “joys” of Nazareth, it is the Lord himself whom we embrace.

Originally published in Madonna House's publication "Restoration," January 2005.  Shared here with permission.

To find out more about Madonna House, click here.  To visit Madonna House Publications, click here.

The Holy Family Sleeping, with Angels, Rembrandt van Rijn, pen and brown ink on paper, 1645.

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.