On the Eucharist
The following quote is the epilogue of The Long Loneliness, the autobiography of Dorothy Day. This passage has strongly influenced my thinking on many things, not least the Eucharist. (In fact, it is so important to me that I have left instructions in my will for it to be read at my funeral.) Some years ago I remember telling my then spiritual director that after communion I was looking at the line of people coming up to receive and thinking, “Who are these people, and what are they doing at my Eucharist?” Though he was not troubled by this thought, I was. In retrospect, I realize it was the influence of this passage that helped me answer this question.
We were just sitting there talking when Peter Maurin came in. We were just sitting there talking when lines of people began to form, saying, “We need bread.” We could not say, “Go, be thou filled.” If there were six small loaves and a few fishes, we had to divide them. There was always bread. We were just sitting there talking and people moved in on us. Let those who can take it, take it. Some moved out and that made room for more. And somehow the walls expanded. We were just sitting there talking and someone said, “Let’s all go live on a farm.” It was as casual as all that, I often think. It just came about. It just happened.
I found myself, a barren woman, the joyful mother of children. It is not always easy to be joyful, to keep in mind the duty of delight. The most significant thing about The Catholic Worker is poverty, some say. The most significant thing is community, others say. We are not alone anymore. But the final word is love. At times it has been, in the words of Father Zossima, a harsh and dreadful thing, and our very faith in love has been tried through fire. We cannot love God unless we love each other, and to love we must know each other. We know him in the breaking of bread, and we are not alone any more. Heaven is a banquet and life is a banquet, too, even with a crust, where there is companionship. We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community. It all happened while we sat there talking, and it is still going on.
Dorothy Day, pray for us!
Comments are closed.
Thank you for this, it is food that I longed for and found here. Thank you and God bless you.
Dorothy Day, please pray for us!
Thanks David.
I have recently been struck that two of the most important scripture passages on Eucharist (John 6 and 1 Cor. 10-11) have to do with feeding the poor.
Thanks for these beautiful thoughts. I hope you’re feeling better.
I went back to teaching today and am very tired, but I think I am on the mend.
Love Dorothy! Anyway, I think that the Eucharist and the poor are inherent because the poor are hungry and their physical hunger is to be a prophetic gesture (I don’t know if this is the right word) for how we are to come to Eucharist. We need to go to Church hungry for Him and then after receiving our fill, go out and feed those who are also hungry. No?
Brett,
Where does it say in John 6 that those gathered were poor?
At the risk of reigniting a debate from Brett’s thread about the Eucharist: I got to thinking about this passage again precisely because it frames the Eucharist in a way that almost completely excludes any idea of sacrifice (except perhaps in the most indirect way) but which I believe speaks from the heart of the Church.
It is also worth noting that this was written during a time in which a sacrificial understanding of the Eucharist dominated catechesis. But this echos what someone (Tim Muldoon?) wrote elsewhere: saints do not listen to a consensus; they listen to God.
David – I need to hear what’s in Dorothy’s words here more. I need to live it more. There is something in me that needs to isolate myself, and retreat into Fortress Matt. It makes me miserable, and yet I do it.
In 12-Step programs, they talk about the “ten thousand pound phone” – that is, the one you need to pick up to call a friend for help when you’re feeling weak; when the Only Solution seems to be taking that drink/pill/etc., and the only thing between you and ruin is A Friend Who’s Been There.