Monday, October 26, 2015

The Miracle of Brotherhood

St. Josemaría’s Love for the Poor
By Martin Schlag

Few themes raise as much passion as that of socio-economic poverty and the material misery in which individuals and large swaths of the population find themselves. Revolutions, protests, and class struggles have been and are still today social convulsions grounded in conditions of indigence: the human sense of justice rebels against the gravely unequal distribution of the goods of the earth and even more so a Christian heart, imbued with the spirit of justice and charity proclaimed and lived exemplarily by Jesus of Nazareth.

Likewise, poverty, in its ascetical and spiritual aspect, as a personal and collective virtue, has raised enduring controversies even within the ecclesial community; for instance, within the Franciscans of the 13th century. Perennial tensions arise on the question of poverty: How to live it? In what measure is an absolute lack of possessions necessary in order to live “evangelical” poverty and identify in this way with Jesus Christ? And in what measure is a Christian obliged to give alms to the poor? Only from surplus? Or even from what is necessary? What is necessary?

All these questions are not just academic; they get into the daily life of each Christian, conscious that, at the final judgement, Christ will judge us according to our works of love and mercy.

It can be categorically affirmed that St. Josemaría lived and taught a “preferential but not exclusive option for the poor,” a phrase coined in 1968 that has since become one of the basic principle of Catholic social teaching. Yet demonstrating this affirmation presents a complex challenge. The Founder of Opus Dei never used the term itself due to its immediate co-option by the Marxist interpreters of liberation theology (the term was only rehabilitated after his death when St. John Paul II used it at Puebla in 1979), so showing the correlation of his own words with the term “preferential option for the poor” we must correctly interpret his words without making the author say things he didn’t or, on the contrary, failing to discover his richness of content when dressed in unfamiliar clothing.

Christocentric Love for the Poor

In order to orient our exploration, let’s clarify that the concept we want to examine here is that of the love of the poor in the socio-economic sense, i.e., the poor understood as a social group, distinct from the powerful and owners of goods. Therefore, this article does not deal with detachment, except that it is impossible to speak of love for the poor according to the mind of St. Josemaría without mentioning the virtue of poverty, because both values, love for the poor and poverty, spring from the same source: the desire of the Christian to imitate Christ, our Lord, to the point of becoming one with Jesus, our model. In other words, the source, motive and propelling force of love for the poor is the love for Christ.  First comes love for the Lord and, later, love for the poor. Certainly, when one

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

A Daily Annoyance


When only some hundreds of New Yorkers joined the armed forces in the first days of World War One, Mayor John Mitchel built the USS Recruit in the middle of Union Square. Inaugurated on Memorial Day, May 31, 1917, it eventually accounted for 25,000 recruits.

Dorothy Day would have walked past this symbol of militarism every day while working at The Masses from May through November, 1917. The offices of the journal are marked by the arrow in the rightmost photo.


Photos: Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, LC-B2- 4211-14, LC-B2- 4212-17, and LC-B2- 4238-6.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Dorothy Day and Moloch

The last article in The New York Call with Dorothy Day’s by-line is headlined: “Europe’s Moloch Claims Old Man’s Son; He Comes To America and Starves.” 

Moloch was the Canaanite and Phoenician god who demanded parents sacrifice their children to him, “You shall not give any of your children by fire to Moloch, and so profane the name of your God: I am the Lord” (Lev 18:21).


Dorothy’s position as Special Features Writer did not offer her a wide berth to vent her opinions on the war. With her choice of Moloch as a metaphor for the European War, just recently joined by her own nation, she reaches the essence of her revulsion for war: an insane sacrifice of youth and a great blasphemy against the Creator and Jesus’ Gospel of Love. 

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

The Battle of Lepanto: A Victory for American Literature

On the anniversary of the battle of Lepanto, I am reminded of another anecdote from the life of Floyd Dell, one of the leading figures in Greenwich Village when Dorothy Day arrived and, for some months, her boss and housemate. 

In earlier blogs, I've recounted Dell's admiration for G. K. Chesterton.

While the editor of The Friday Literary Review in Chicago, seeking to set the trajectory of American intellectual thought in the 20th Century, Dell was mentoring a number of promising novelists and poets.  In 1912, one of these was Vachel Lindsay who had not yet written anything noteworthy.  Dell sensed a lot of promise in the young poet and recommended a chanting poetry that would "throw back at America its own barbaric music."  As  a magnificent example of a chanted poem, he sent Lindsay a copy of his favorite, G. K. Chesterton's Lepanto.

Some months later, Dell received a copy of General William Booth Enters Into Heaven, a chanting poem and one of Lindsay's most acclaimed.

Compare these poems for yourself.  Here is Lepanto and here is General Booth.