"I see light in you."
How often have we been down in the dumps, full of self-doubt, and self-pity, and others have said the equivalent of those words to us? Maybe they've said "I believe in you" or "You've got what it takes." Maybe they've patted us on the shoulder and encouraged us: "Don't give up."
Whatever the words, those people in our lives who tell us they trust us to go on and do great things are saying, really, "I see light in you. I see your inner beauty and strength, your uniqueness as a human being." Even more, they're saying, although they may not know it: "I see the Light of God in you. I see the light that comes from God dwelling in you. I can see the living flame of God's love in your eyes."
Every one of us needs to hear words like this said to us. Because every one of us has times when we're broken and battered, soul-worn and soul-torn. If we are in the dark and don't believe in ourselves, someone has to believe in us for us. We need to be filled with hope, and an empty vessel cannot fill him or herself up. Another's sweet words, filled with the honey of light and love, can overcome our sour and dark dispositions.
There's a powerful scene in the film about American political activist Dorothy Day, "Entertaining Angels," in which she catches a young girl stealing money. Dorothy has started a shelter, a House of Hospitality, for the homeless, alcoholics, prostitutes - all the forgotten and unwanted people on the streets of New York City. One of these abandoned people has stolen the last bit of money Dorothy has with which to buy food and clothing for her charges. When Dorothy confronts the young woman, grabs her arm to stop her from running, and asks for the money back, the girl picks up a stick and starts beating her. Dorothy takes possession of the stick. In a moment of rage, she lifts it over her head to strike the girl back, to exact revenge. And then she stops.
"Go ahead, beat me," the girl sobs. "I'm worthless anyway."
Dorothy drops the stick, falls to her knees, and takes the girl in her arms, cradling her.
"No, you're not," she soothes. "I see light in you."
Undoubtedly Dorothy could see light in this young girl because people had seen light in her as she grew up. Her family had lived in Oakland, California, when she was young, where her father worked for a newspaper. During the great San Francisco Earthquake in 1906, the newspaper's facilities were destroyed, and her father lost his job. But the whole city rallied, people taking care of people, and many neighbors showed Dorothy's family great love and gave them practical help. Here were planted the seeds of her beliefs in the power of community and the necessity for individual social action.
Dorothy grew up to be a social activist, devoted to the needs of the poor and neglected, and an ardent participant in non-violent political protests. But she was living a bohemian lifestyle. She had several affairs, one ending with her having an abortion. She married one man in a civil ceremony; then, when that relationship foundered, she began a relationship wth the man who eventually fathered her one daughter. She was ecstatic with being pregnant; she'd feared that her abortion had made her sterile. Her lover was terrified at the very thought of fatherhood.
Strangely enough, in a short period of separation from the father of her child, this young, bohemian, unwed mother became interested in Catholicism. She began praying and going to Mass. Once Dorothy had given birth to her daughter Tamar Teresa, a religious sister, Sister Aloysia, came into her life. Rather than being put off by this unconventional young woman, Sr. Aloysia saw the light in Dorothy and tutored her in understanding the Catholic faith. Later Tamar was baptized and Sr. Aloysia was Dorothy's godparent when she was baptized. With great grief, Dorothy later left the father of her child because he hated religion, especially Catholicism, and refused to marry her, and she wanted to be married, and in a Catholic ceremony.
Later in her life, during the depths of the Great Depression, Dorothy covered hunger strikes in Washington, D.C. as a writer for "The Commonweal," but was intensely frustrated. She admired the great courage of the strikers but wondered why she didn't see any Catholic leadership. How could she use her Catholicism to organize aid and social activism for those suffering the economic brunt of the depression? She prayed in the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, asking God to give her specific advice. When she came home to New York City and walked into her apartment, there stood the great French immigrant, Catholic philosopher, and writer Peter Maurin in her kitchen - a man who saw the light in Dorothy and began to teach her Catholic social doctrine.
The rest is history. Together, Dorothy and Peter co-founded the Catholic Worker Movement: the Catholic Worker newspaper, Houses of Hospitality, Farm Communes, and political activism. They began the Catholic Worker newspaper, which is still published, which was and is advocacy journalism, at that time giving hope to those struggling in the depression by telling them about the Houses of Hospitality and Farm Communes where they could get food and clothing and even live, highlighting the work struggles of blacks and women, and also giving the poor hope by publicizing the various non-violent strikes and social protests the Catholic Worker was organizing and inviting others to become part of. Dorothy and Peter's purpose was to both aid the poor and voiceless - and also to give them a voice, an education, a spirituality, and ways to help themselves.
Dorothy never loved or did anything with half a heart. She changed lives because she saw light in others as others had seen light in her. Hers was a servant leadership - for her love was demonstrated as much in cleaning toilets as in writing political diatribes and leading protest marches. And she refused to judge others. She knew her own weakness and brokenness, she knew her own mistakes and sins, so she could love the whole of others. She described true love by saying that it is affirming and non-violent:
"To love with understanding and without understanding. To love blindly, and to folly. To see only what is lovable. To think only of these things. To see the best in everyone around, their virtues rather than their faults. To see Christ in them!"
And -
"I really only love God as much as I love the person I love the least."
And -
"Those who cannot see Christ in the poor are atheists indeed."
Who in our lives has told us "I see light in you"?
How often do we say these same words to others?
Are there any in our lives from whom we withhold that light? Any whom we judge not "worthy" to be told that there is light in them? To refuse to see the light in others, to judge them rather than to pray for them, or, if it's possible, to accompany them on their journey, is to do them spiritual violence. Dorothy disagreed with many, and was frustrated by their sinful indifference to the poor. But, she stayed in communication wth them rather than reject them.
God sees light in every one of us. God pursues us our whole lives, yearning to show us the light that burns in our souls and the light of love that could burn in our hearts if only we would allow Him to set us on fire. Here is Dorothy's prayer, which can be our prayer:
"We repeat, there is nothing we can do but love, and dear God, please enlarge our hearts to love each other, to love our neighbor, to love our enemy as our friend." Amen!