Wednesday, November 20, 2024

Dorothy Day: Drawing on the Profane to Grasp the Sacred

Rather than spending her adult years in a convent, Dorothy Day, who founded the Catholic Workers Movement in the twentieth century, could distill religious experience through her activity in the world—the sacred essentially coming up through the profane. This is not to confound these two spheres, just as Christology has held since the Council of Nicaea (325 CE) that the two natures, human and divine, of Christ do not mix within his one essence. In fact, even within the religious sphere, Day could distinguish qualitative differences between God as personified and as impersonal in nature.

Day wrote of her pre-Catholic religious “idea of God as a tremendous Force, a frightening impersonal God, a Voice, a Hand stretched out to seize me, His child, and not in love. Christ was the Saviour, meek and humble of heart, Jesus, the Good shepherd. But I did not think of Jesus as God.”[1] That she was reading Imitation of Christ at the time says a lot about how she situated Jesus as an exemplar. Whether viewed as a holy man or as the Son of God beyond nominally so in the Gospel story, Jesus is distinguished from the idea of God as impersonal. This resonates with the relation between loving devotion to Jesus as evinced by spiritual nuns, and viewing God as impersonal resonates with both Shankara, the ninth-century Hindu theologian who claimed that deities are merely manifestations of the all-pervading, impersonal Brahman, and Pseudo-Dionysius, the sixth-century Christian theologian who emphasized that God goes beyond the limits of human thought, perception, and emotion (i.e., sensibility). The latter applies especially to Day’s statement, “I made up my mind to accept what I did not understand, trusting light to come, as it sometimes did, in a blinding flash of exultation and realization.”[2] This can be interpreted as meaning that divine revelation lies beyond human understanding, and yet it is sad just how many people claim to know God’s will.

It was said of Day that she was too religious to be a Communist. This is ironic because her need for God was in the midst of her activities, political and even biological. The risk here was in committing the category mistake of conflating the religious sphere with others even though her religious experiences came when she was in the midst of activity in other domains. We can keep the religious domain as distinct and unique in some ways by interpreting her as being able to perceive her activities as analogies to dynamics in the spiritual domain that are qualitatively different from activities within Creation.

Relating herself birthing a child to God as Creator, Day wrote, “God is the Creator, and the very fact that we [i.e., she and the baby’s father] were begetting a child made me have a sense that we were made in the image and likeness of God, co-creators with him.”[3] Although the episode evinces that she could see something in nature (i.e., giving birth) as in some way being similar, and thus analogical, to a theological point, referring to herself as a co-creator ignores the qualitative difference between propagation in the world and God creating existence and all that is within it.

She was on firmer ground in thinking about how vegetable seeds grow “into flowers and radishes and beans,” she wrote, “It is a miracle to me because I do not understand it.”[4] The word miracle is distinctly religious, so its application sans God to a biological process itself should be resisted. So too, by the way, the word evil is distinctly religious, and thus ethicists who define it as grave injustice miss the mark. Day’s use of the word, miracle, should thus be taken as analogical only, even if the meant something more by it. The distinctly religious meaning to be grasped is that the divine transcends the limits of human cognition and thus is at least in part inherently mysterious to us. Unlike not understanding how a seed eventually grows so, producing even flowers and vegetables that hardly resemble the original seeds and yet are their final causes (Aristotle), not understanding God is inherent to God being uniquely transcendent as it extends beyond Creation; vegetables do not. Religion is distinct from the biological (scientific) domain. This holds in relation to other domains too, including that of ethics.

Ironically because she founded the Catholic workers’ movement, Day, like Kierkegaard, situated religious experience above the sphere of morality.  Of morality, Day said, “I saw them wrestling with moral problems, with the principles by which they lived, and this made them noble in my eyes.”[5] Lest this be presumed to be the highest form of nobility to Day, while she watching a woman kneel at her bed to pray, Day was convinced “that worship, adoration, thanksgiving, supplication” are “the noblest acts of which [a person is] capable in this life.”[6] Nobility in a religious sense is more noble than is ethical nobility In Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaard situates the divine decree made only to Abraham that he sacrifice his only son, Isaac, above the universally-accessible ethical stance that the sacrifice would actually be murder, for which Abraham would be culpable.

Although Dorothy Day illustrates that it is possible to have religious experience in the midst of our daily activities in the world rather than spending years in a monastery being necessary—and in this way she would side with Mahayana over Theravada Buddhism—her way of viewing the profane in a religious way risks conflating the two, as if the sacred and profane were co-creators rather than the profane being created by God. In general, this category mistake ignores the qualitative difference between the religious domain and other domains, such as science and even morality. Ultimately, conflating the heavenly and earthly cities risks putting humanity, and thus oneself, rather than a transcendent reference point, at the center.



1. Dorothy Day, The Long Loneliness: The Autobiography of Dorothy Day (New York: Curtis Books, 1956), p. 20.
2.  Ibid., p. 163.
3. Ibid., p. 153.
4. Ibid., p. 152.
5. Ibid., p. 123.
6. Ibid., p. 123.