The following is taken from a letter, written by an old friend (now deceased) of Catherine and Madonna House, to the kitchen staff at St. Mary’s a number of years ago, when he presented them with the gift of an icon.
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This icon is for the kitchen as a reminder every day to each of you who work there of Catherine Doherty’s love and encouragement.
Catherine and I often had talks in which we discussed a variety of topics, including food.
Yes, food!
Whenever we walked through the kitchen, which was frequently, she would give it a quick inspection. Her eagle eye could always see if something was out of place or needed cleaning, or if there was a job undone. But I noticed that she rarely gave the people working there a compliment.
One day during one of our talks, I commented on her apparent lack of praise. She answered me by saying that silence itself is praise.
“Silence commends and encourages far more than mere words,” she said. “The problem today is that few know how to listen to silence. And this means that words and language lose much of their strength and clarity. Even so, I encourage with my silence and build with my words.”
At the end of our talk, Catherine gave me a special commission. “Since you seem to be worried that the staff are not getting enough compliments and praise,” she concluded, “I want you to commend and encourage them — with words, of course, but even more through love.”
So here is a symbol of love, an icon from Mt. Athos in Greece.
Almost every kitchen in Russia in Catherine’s day had an icon. Why? “The kitchen is the heart of the house,” Catherine explained, “the place where the service of our hands prays a litany of love. To love fully is to serve completely.
“When I walk through the kitchen here in Madonna House, I see not only busy hands but also lives full of love. I see the beauty of the Gospel lived out in a hidden communion with God himself. I see the strength of humility and the joy of faith.”
Suddenly Catherine stopped and gave me a piercing look with her sharp blue eyes. “You criticize me for not giving compliments,” she said, “but look. When I enter the kitchen, I enter a room of prayer. Yes, there is chatter, questions, comments going on all the time, but this is a special kind of music that accompanies the prayers of committed hearts and lives.
“Behind the din of the kitchen is the silence of profound prayer. If something goes wrong, if the food is not hot or not what someone likes, the kitchen staff hear about it.
“Still, they give a service of hidden love each day. They become my strength and encouragement. So, when I walk through the kitchen, I take into my heart all their love, all their service, all their humility, and yes, all their discouragement and frustrations. These, too, are their offerings.”
“Things always go wrong in a kitchen,” Catherine explained. “I know. I cooked for many years with little to put in the soup except more water. Here we do not cook what we want, but we use whatever comes in.
“Some are new in the kitchen and are struggling to learn. Others find it boring; still others dislike it intensely. But all persevere, and so both their successes and their failures become a prayer and a sacrifice. So for me the kitchen is a place that encourages and strengthens.”
Catherine’s preparation for her work in Harlem and Chicago and later in Combermere began in her childhood, in the kitchen under the tutelage of her mother and the maids. And always under the gaze of Mary, a silent gaze that offers understanding and love.
I hope you don’t already have an icon, so that this one will remind you each day of Catherine and her love for you.
Why am I sending you this icon now? A good excuse is that I have donated an icon to both the kitchen at the main house and to the one at the farm. But the real reason is that you have not long ago successfully survived a trying time. (For a number of months, while the main house kitchen and dining room were being renovated, the entire community ate three meals a day at St. Mary’s.)
I cannot imagine all the frustrations everyone endured when all that renovation was being done in the main house. And now you are back to normal.
I can well imagine what would have happened had Catherine walked through this kitchen when all the doubling up was going on.
What would she have done? Walked through with a smile, a nod, and silence. Her silence would have been a tribute and an expression of love. Now that Catherine cannot give you this smile, nod, and silence in person, please accept this icon instead.
