Dorothy Day’s life teaches us in three key areas. First, she offers us a chance to exercise intellectual humility and broaden our individualistic framework to examine systemic injustice. Second, the way she modeled hospitality provides a paradigm that pushes back against the American impulse to evaluate people based on their ability to contribute to society (or lack there of). Finally, she provides an example for Evangelicals of wholeheartedly living out one’s convictions and embracing one’s vocation for the greater good.

Ambiguity is difficult for Evangelicals; we struggle to accept mystery and black-and-white categories comfort us. In our emphasis on Scripture’s authority, we want to define whether or not something is Biblical, so when others disagree with us on its interpretation, it can be difficult to receive them. Dorothy Day’s pacifism, soft stance towards socialism and communism and critique of capitalism may be difficult to swallow. Yet, we cannot applaud her successful stances on issues we agree with her on and disown her the next minute because she’s “too radical” on others. No one is without flaws. Evangelicals support both women’s suffrage and civil rights, and even if we are not on board with her pacifism, we ought to respect her opposition toward war and commitment to an entirely pro-life ethic. Instead of dismissing her critique of capitalism because it makes us uncomfortable, we need to ask ourselves why it does that.

Essentially, we need the humility to learn from those outside our tradition and with whom we may not completely agree. Dorothy Day asked questions about why people were poor that others lacked the courage to ask; she insisted the church and broader society examine issues of systemic injustice. In part because we place such a high value on personal conversion, our default lens as Evangelicals is individualistic. We need to take a page out of Day’s newspaper and examine systemic forms of injustice that are bigger than the individual. When we think about and try to engage issues troubling the world, we do so from an individualistic understanding, because, thanks to our heritage, that is our default framework. Yet, racism, immigration, the school to prison pipeline, abortion, and poverty all are rooted in systems that influence individual choices. Our intellectual framework and theological framework needs to accommodate this reality in order for us to address these issues effectively. We need to ask ourselves how our churches can become communities, like the Catholic Worker houses, in which we work collaboratively to oppose systemic forms of injustice while remaining a welcoming Kingdom presence to all.

Firm in her understanding that being made in the image of God gives people intrinsic worth, Day refused to differentiate between the deserving and undeserving poor or to discriminate based on race or religion. She prohibited her fellow Catholic Workers from putting up signs in their houses of hospitality assigning chores to its inhabitants, and welcomed people not as contributors, but guests.[1] Much of our modern lens, by default evaluates people based on how productive they are; we ask: “Do they do drugs? Are they in school? Do they have a job?” in determining whether or how much help they should receive. As we consider housing policies for the homeless, the Housing First model found in Utah and California is based on the premise that belonging precedes behavior modification.[2] The gospel assumes the same thing: we are part of God’s family before we start to act like it. Whatever issue we look at: immigration, homelessness, rehabilitation, we need to start with Day’s assumption that the men and women in front of us are beloved of God, rather than beginning with questions of what they deserve.

Reading Day’s story is challenging because, firm in her vocation and convictions, she takes such radical stances, willing to go to prison for her beliefs. Are we willing to be counter-cultural and risk being misunderstood for the sake of the gospel? Do we question the prevailing structures of our society or align ourselves with one particular political party and risk becoming a voting block? Furthermore, Day’s most strongly held convictions were ones that involved the good of others. What are ours? Do we have convictions that serve our own ends, or are they on behalf of others, the less fortunate and the marginalized? Do we give voice to the voiceless, or do we use our social power to maintain our own privileged positions? When Day’s seemingly soft stance towards socialism makes us uncomfortable, is it because we are unquestioningly loyal to the American Dream and are unwilling to critically examine capitalism? Yes, capitalism has increased wealth and the standard of living for many, but is it completely flawless? Are we willing to critically ask questions of it?[3] These are questions that I have been forced to confront as a result of reading about Dorothy Day’s life and beliefs. Some of them are uncomfortable because they reveal my own cowardice and fear of being too radical.

Finally, Day found her vocation, living it out in a way that served the common good. She wrote, lived hospitably with the poor, and boldly stood up for her convictions. Would that American Evangelical young people did as much; were we to do so, perhaps we would be a force to be reckoned with, not unlike Dorothy Day.

 

 

[1] Elizabeth Hinson-Hasty, Dorothy Day for Armchair Theologians, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014), 61-3.

[2] See this fascinating article for explanation of Housing First’s solution: http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2015/02/housing-first-solution-to-homelessness-utah (accessed 25 April 2016).

[3] In his book Radical: Taking back your faith from the American Dream (Colorado Springs: Multnomah, 2010), David Platt asks, “what is the difference between someone who willfully indulges in sexual pleasures while ignoring the Bible on moral purity and someone who willfully indulges in the selfish pursuit of more and more material possessions while ignoring the Bible on caring for the poor? The difference is that one involves a social taboo in the church and the other involves the social norm in the church” (111).