“What follows is a brief and somewhat disjointed attempt to send greetings and best wishes from just under the crust of the planet. There, I can now witness, most good things have their beginnings – streams, flowers, springs, sources, and roots, whether of friendship, spirit, or the stillness that both energizes and embraces movement.”

Daniel Berrigan, S.J., America Is Hard to Find

 

“Those communal smells are more holy than incense.”

Frida Berrigan, Jonah House 50th Anniversary reflection

 

On June 10th, many of us gathered and celebrated the 50th anniversary of the founding of Jonah House. Thanks to the hard work of Terry Moran, who organized the event on behalf of the Daniel Berrigan Collective and created a beautiful and moving PowerPoint presentation, there was a two-hour sharing from those who had lived in the community reaching back to the 1970s and the present day. Many were visibly teary-eyed during the sharing, not so much nostalgically but more because what we heard was strikingly authentic in a world demented today by so much violence, lies, and self-centeredness. You teared up at the sacrifice made for peace and the well-being of those cast out in society. You teared up not because the Jonah House community was perfect but because people had tried to do something, and amidst all that effort were moments of pure gold and a lifetime dedicated to service, resistance, and love. You teared up at the sheer beauty of presence to one another, the reality of the Gospels coming alive, and a community of people who refused to give up on one another, the world, and God. 

 

I recommend that you view the event recording, which is posted on the Daniel Berrigan Collective website. Meanwhile, I will share what I remembered from the event and why I found it so moving and life-changing. That we heard first from Willa and Brendan of Viva House put the longevity of communities like Viva House and Jonah House into perspective. As Willa reminded us, Viva House has been doing the work for the past 55 years. They both spoke of the sharing and support that lifted both Houses in the early days and the depth of that communal sharing. These many years of service, resistance, and community are nothing to be trifled with, especially given the historical amnesia of this country. I am reading Jefferson Cowie’s book Freedom’s Dominion: A Saga of White Resistance to Federal Power, in which he considers white resistance to the federal government’s admittedly lame but necessary efforts to guarantee equality in this country. In the first chapter, he writes about how white settlers stole the land that was rightfully that of the Creek people in Eufaula, Alabama. These settlers stole the land, burned down the crops and homes of the Creek, and chased the Creek off the land if they didn’t kill and rape them first. I mention this book because it explains much of what is happening in our society today, but more so because not everyone acts this way. For the past 55 and 50 years, respectively, Viva House and Jonah House have given us an example of another way of being in the world, a way that we simply must continue and revive in the present moment. 

 

This way of life is neither easy nor smooth sailing; many speakers spoke to that reality. However, what was emphasized so much more was the experience of joy. The joy that was found in the birthing of children in Jonah House’s basement and raising those children; the joy that was found in the daily discipline of morning prayer and then trying to live what was gleaned throughout the day; and the joy of tending to gardens, animals, and one another, to name some of what was remembered. There was also the joy found in being present to one another. Susan Crane spoke of Phil Berrigan’s habit of reading in a rocking chair in his room, which he did pretty often, if not daily. She spoke of wanting to speak with him but was hesitant to knock on his door because she did not want to disturb him. Still, when she knocked on his door and entered the room, Phil put the book down. That memory of Phil’s being present to her remains to this day. And her sharing takes on a new life with me. She didn’t emboss the story; she stated what Phil did: he put the book down and listened to her. In its simplicity and generosity, Phil's gesture is a gesture and practice worth replicating. I hope I will never be too busy to “put the book down.” I hope that I will never to too busy to practice joy. 

 

Michelle Naar-Obed also shared a “Phil story,” though it was intended to be a Liz story. Michelle recalled hearing about the charges she was to receive after doing a Plowshares action from a reporter over the phone. Her charges warranted sixty years in prison and a twenty million dollar fine. Thinking about her year-old daughter at the time, she was understandably shaken and retreated to the pantry for a breather. With a deep desire to talk with Liz, she called Jonah House but was told Liz was out. Did she want to speak with Phil instead? Internally, she shouted “no,” because she feared Phil would upbraid her for her self-concern and weakness. Still, she agreed to speak with Phil. When Phil listened to her fears and panic at the pending charges, she said he responded to her tenderly and said, “Remember, Michelle, they are not in charge.” As it did for Michelle, that line shook me to my roots. Why? Perhaps it is so often because I forget those Gospel roots, my reading of Bill Stringfellow, Phil, Dan, and Liz, and probably because the world seems to be in such horrible shape these days. I would suggest that we could do much good in the world if we genuinely remembered that “they are not in charge” and lived as if that were true. 

 

Many shared beautifully about Liz and spoke of her as one who understood that “without community, we will not go far” and the value she placed on relationships. In a recent Ezra Klein podcast, he reflects on the epidemic of loneliness that plagues our nation and speaks of it not as fate generated but more generated by the social structures of this society. When we value profit over people, private property over communal sharing, workplace advance over caring for kin and neighbors, and walk around glued to our phones or with headphones on, it is not surprising that we have created a lonely world. If we want communities, we have to build communities, something that is becoming urgently needed in the present day. Liz responded with her whole being to the call of community, and the impact of her response to that call was evident in the sharing on the webinar. Again, it was not easy for her: she gave up being physically proximate to Phil, Jerry, Frida, and Kate for a good number of years, and even when they were together, many recalled that the doorbell was constantly ringing at Jonah House with another request for food or shelter. Many of us have seen the beautifully illustrated cards that Liz would send from prison to her children, and we saw one of them in Terry’s PowerPoint presentation for this webinar. Aside from the sheer beauty of Liz’s effort to mother from prison and her stunning sacrifice, I think of another line from the sharing: “If you want hope, do hopeful things.”  Liz’s example inspired me not to give up these days, to work in the present circumstances with what I have, and to do hopeful things!

 

John Schuchardt recalled that when he joined the Jonah House community, he “stepped into the holy circle of community and anti-war resistance.” How is it that the Jonah House community studied and practiced war no more? Schuchardt answered this question in several ways. He spoke of a community that revolved around community practices, nonviolence, resistance, prayer, a daily work schedule, house meetings, and hospitality. Like Gary Ashbeck, Schuchardt emphasized the importance of developing an inner life at Jonah House. Ashbeck described it as the “monastic silence” of Jonah House, something I know I could practice more. He also spoke about the geography of prayer, which could never be contained within Jonah House, and which guided its members to actions at the White House and military bases, to the courts and long days in prisons, and then back to the community and biblical study. The Gospel held pride of place in the Jonah House community and was made manifest in their lives together. Schuchardt recalled that the liturgical calendar set the compass for their lives and the practice of consuming less so that others, including the Earth and its bountiful beings, might live. In short, Schuchardt said, as many others did, that Jonah House demonstrated how to live authentically, something that many people long for today, I suspect. 

 

“Let’s make Christmas cookies,” another way of saying, “Let’s pay attention, particularly to one another.”  Mike Miles shared this line and story when he spoke about the children of Plowshares activists who saw the homemade Christmas cards intended for their parents. When one child noticed that the card for Miles was not as gaily decorated as the other cards, she burst into tears. A youthful Jerry Berrigan saw this and asked the child, “Do you miss your dad? Because I miss my dad, too. Let’s make Christmas cookies together.” The ability to see one another in our humanity and practice care for that person was held up at the gathering. Of course, many recalled that, like anything worthwhile doing, any relationship practiced for the long haul, or any commitment we make, the road is rough, if not sometimes dysfunctional. There was no effort to pretty up the reality of Jonah House at the gathering; mention was made, for example, of the need to call in counselors when the tension in the community became unresolvable. And yet, that is life in all of its beauty and ugliness. What impressed me in the gathering was that folks were willing to give Jonah House a shot and did so with their entire being. They created their Kairos moment and took responsibility for living as though the Gospels and other human beings mattered. They prayed, read the morning news, shared meals and worked, were arrested, and baked Christmas cookies together. They carried forth beyond Jonah House in new communities but never failed to recall where they had been rooted and how to flower in the present day. 

 

Jerry and Frida Berrigan closed the sharing and gathering. Jerry reminded us that things in the world are so much worse than when Jonah House first started and implied, at least for me, that we again need to revisit, rehabilitate, and revive the communal life so well lived by the Jonah House community. He cited one of his father’s favorite passages from W.E.B. Du Bois and encouraged us to listen and be inspired by our ancestors, as we need all the sustenance we can get these days. In a Proustian moment, Frida recalled the Jonah House community's smells, sounds, and textures. I made a pot of coffee in the Social Justice House yesterday morning, and when I came into the kitchen from working in the garden, I was enveloped in the welcoming scent of Cafe Bustelo, a coffee of the people.  I experienced what she was saying: how inviting that smell was, how much it makes you want to sit down and share with other community members. She also spoke of how, even though she was born into the Jonah House community, it was the efforts of so many in the community that kept her grounded. Speaking of the temptation of a high-flung career or a well-appointed apartment, she looked at what she had chosen to do in her life and how she lived and realized that the dedication and commitment of Jonah House community members kept her on track and rooted. We need each other to do this work and never take that for granted; the hyper-individualism and loneliness of American society must end with us. 

 

As I end this reflection, I think of a few lines from America Is Hard to Find, from the eponymous poem that opens the book:  

 

“Hard to find. Good bread is hard to find. Of course. The hands

are wielding swords. The wild animals fade out like Alice’s cat’s

Smile. America is hard to find. The defenseless fade away like 

hundred-year pensioners. The sour-faced gorgons remain …

But listen brothers and sisters: this disk floats downward, a flying saucer

in the macadam back yard where one paradise tree , a hardy weed sends

up its signal flare (spring!)

fly it! turn it on! Become

hard to find, become, be born

out of the sea Atlantis, out in the wilds America

This disk-like manna, miraculous loaves and fishes

exists to be multiplied, savored, and shared

play it! learn it! have it by heart!”

 

Thank you to all in Jonah House, Kairos, and Daniel Berrigan Collective communities, who bestow so much to savor, share, and have by heart.