c. 1998 Religion News Service
NEW YORK _ Thirty years have passed since Father Daniel Berrigan stooped over a metal basket outside a Maryland Selective Service office and set hundreds of draft cards ablaze. It was an act that etched the Jesuit priest’s name in the American conscience and helped galvanize a national movement against the Vietnam War. “The act was pitiful, a tiny flare amid the consuming fires of war. But Catonsville was like a firebreak, a small fire lit to contain and conquer the greater,”Berrigan would write later in his autobiography.
Today, at 77, Daniel Berrigan is still, as poet-monk Thomas Merton once called him,”a man full of fire.” In many ways, Berrigan leads the life of an elder statesman of the Society of Jesus; he teaches part-time, leads retreats and writes poetry and prose in his art-filled Upper West Side apartment.
But at a time when surveys indicate a growing conservatism among Americans entering the priesthood and when the idea of working for world peace has largely faded on college campuses, Berrigan continues to be a tireless and uncompromising crusader for justice. “We have a bigger arms race then ever and the poor have no voice. Their lives are not improving at all,”he said.”I’m hopeful _ not optimistic _ that with the persistence of good people things will improve.” Right now, however, Berrigan’s most immediate battle is on the home front _ literally.
Berrigan and 22 members of the West Side Jesuit Community are facing eviction from their apartments. As rent-stabilized tenants for almost 30 years they pay a bargain price for 16 apartments worth millions on the open market, and the landlord refuses to renew their lease.
But the Jesuits at the house are fighting back. Their legal team, which includes former Attorney General Ramsey Clark, says the community is prepared to go to trial. There is also talk of a peaceful vigil outside the landlord’s house.”There are four convicted felons living here,”Berrigan said proudly of the fellow Jesuits who have been imprisoned for civil disobedience, emphasizing that his community of faith will never go quietly into the Manhattan night.
Neither will Daniel Berrigan go quietly. “He’s one of the great Jesuits of all time,”said Father John Dear, director of the Fellowship of Reconciliation, an international, interfaith peace organization.”He has put his life on the line time and time again.” Dear, a 39-year-old protege of Berrigan and his brother, Philip _ also an anti-militarist activist _ said the two have had a profound impact on his life.”I wouldn’t have entered the priesthood, begun to work for peace,”or he adds chuckling,”have become a convicted felon, had it not been for the Berrigans.””The picture is indelible,”Berrigan says of that day, May 17, 1968, when the group which would become known as the Catonsville Nine made its statement about the war with a blaze of homemade napalm. “I had been a loving critic of what I saw going on, but I was bound to loyalty I didn’t understand,”he said.”The flashpoint came when I broke the law. I knew my life would never be the same.” The famous Catonsville photo, depicting Berrigan with his blunt-cut hair and boyish bangs beside his brother, both pitching matches and staring into the flames, hangs on Berrigan’s crowded study wall, among images of his friends, mentors and heroes _ Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton and Mahatma Gandhi. “This is my non-wailing wall,”he says, wearing his trademark Joan of Arc haircut, grayer now, but still full. Over the years Berrigan has been called a communist, a radical and a traitor, a modern-day prophet, a religious rebel and Holy Warrior. He says through it all he was unwavering in his commitment to his faith, though he regularly tested the church’s willingness to tolerate his outspoken criticism.
In 1965, in part because of his peace work, he was thrown out of the New York Archdiocese by Cardinal Francis Spellman. Shortly after, he was”exiled”by the Jesuits to Latin America to edit a magazine until being allowed to return the following year. Undaunted, he continued to assail the church for its silence on the Vietnam War issue.
At time of the Catonsville protest, Berrigan, who was a chaplain at Cornell University, had few supporters within the church hierarchy and his superiors grew even angrier after the event. Viewing the action as a”huge cultural betrayal,”said Berrigan, they nearly dismissed him from the order.
There were, however, gestures of support even in the most tumultuous times. In 1971 the head of the Jesuits, Rev. Pedro Arrupe, flew from Rome to visit Berrigan in his Connecticut prison cell, a move Berrigan felt meant his fellow Jesuits were with him.
One priest’s life was changed by a chance encounter with Berrigan and his followers. The Rev. Thomas Gumbleton, now auxiliary bishop of Detroit and one of the hierarchy’s most radical figures on peace and justice issues, recalls when several of the Catonsville Nine visited the archdiocese in the late 1960s. “I was asked to persuade them not to embarrass the church. It was so new to do anything like that. It was shocking to people,”he said.”After meeting with them it was I who was persuaded. They were right and the war was wrong. That’s how I got involved in the movement.” Today Berrigan is free to write, teach and protest without the threat of punishment from the church.”He’s still a controversial figure,”said Dear.”But the church has changed over the years. There’s more space for giving radical witness for peace.” (BEGIN OPTIONAL TRIM)
After Vietnam, Berrigan and his brother turned their attention to global peace and the nuclear arms race. In 1980 a group led by the Berrigans broke into a General Electric plant in King of Prussia, Pa., pounded partially assembled nuclear warheads with hammers, then poured blood on them.
The Berrigans were released on probation by a sympathetic judge.
Since then, Daniel Berrigan has retired from the so-called”Plowshares”actions _ the trespassing and vandalism on military facilities _ because of the threat of a lengthy prison sentence. “My health won’t allow (the prison stays),”said Berrigan, who has faced bouts of serious illness in prison that left him near death and has had to be bailed out by the order.”I become part of the problem when I’m in.” Berrigan was the fifth of six sons born to an Irish railroad engineer and his German wife in Winton, Minn. The Berrigans soon moved to the Syracuse area where Berrigan was surrounded by an extended family of devoutly religious Catholics.”I had uncles who were Jesuits, an aunt who was a nun, and a cousin who was a monsignor,”he said.
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The author of more than 40 books, Berrigan received the 1998 Campion Prize from the order for his lifetime contribution to literature. Two books published this year include”And the Risen Bread,”a collection of poetry, and”Daniel,”reflections on his prophet namesake who was obedient to his faith even in the face of persecution.
Some critics say the graying peace warrior should step aside for a new generation of leadership. Others say his radical brand of activism and apocalyptic statements about the government may not be the most effective approach anymore.
But supporters counter that Berrigan remains a powerful voice against injustice and violence in the world.”He’s still speaking out harder than anyone for peace,”said Dear.”He continues to challenge us.” Gumbleton agrees the peace movement still needs Daniel Berrigan.”We need something to wake people up, to generate the kind of mass movement (against nuclear arms) we had in the 80s,”he said.”People think with the collapse of the Soviet Union the arms race was over. It isn’t. It is more dangerous than ever.” Berrigan, for his part, takes a Hindu approach to his legacy, declining to speculate on how he’d like to be remembered. “I don’t have any inkling about that,”he said.”You know what Gandhi said about letting the ashes go down the Ganges, `just let them go.'”
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