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The Dark Night of Resistance
This extraordinary book, written during the four months that Daniel Berrigan was resisting arrest and living underground, is an unexpected gift. Rather than being merely an account of a fugitive's life, this is a spiritual work of the highest order, the work of an unusual man brooding over injustice, war, and love and setting forth his vision of what a man can become. His starting point is St. John of the Cross, from whom the author draws the inspiration that informs his unorthodox "commentary" on The Dark Night of the Soul. Here, John is the guru, the master to whom the disciple comes for enlightenment, the one whose vision inspires the disciple as he searches for his own vision. As the "commentary" moves on, it becomes the instrument by which Father Berrigan extends his own moral commitment to explore and reaffirm his spiritual philosophy, his concern for the world, his intense desire to awaken and move society in a nonviolent way. The result is a magnificent outpouring of prose and poetry--intense, personal, witty; the exposition of the heart of a man.
194 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2007
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67 people want to read
About the author
Daniel Berrigan
154 books50 followersDaniel Joseph Berrigan (May 9, 1921 – April 30, 2016) was an American Jesuit priest, college professor, anti-war activist, Christian pacifist, playwright, poet, and author.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
December 6, 2025
“Bear with me, if I seem too harsh for comfort. I am first of all too harsh for my own comfort; some consolation for those who read this, and conclude that middle-aged acedia is the juice I swim in.”
Daniel Berrigan writes here a contemplative collection of journal entries, poems, perhaps homilies—all of which he calls visions or reflections—while he hides “underground” as one of the wanted Catonsville Nine (a fascinating story to research). The book mimics and is structured around notes from the poem “The Dark Night of the Soul” by Saint John of the Cross, our “guru.” I think much of this book is stupid, and other parts are far too esoteric for me, but some of it contains great wisdom. I believe my prescription would be shared by Berrigan himself: forget this book. You might do better to consult our guru and God and silence directly. Prison is the perfect monastery. The wilderness is good too.
“In any case, we are never to be taken seriously; never to become the occasion of rebirth, renunciation of wealth, conversion of heart. We are never invited to be heard from; we never count for much. This is the sentence, passed in absentia. It is the reduction of the living to the remote acre of the dead.”
Daniel Berrigan writes here a contemplative collection of journal entries, poems, perhaps homilies—all of which he calls visions or reflections—while he hides “underground” as one of the wanted Catonsville Nine (a fascinating story to research). The book mimics and is structured around notes from the poem “The Dark Night of the Soul” by Saint John of the Cross, our “guru.” I think much of this book is stupid, and other parts are far too esoteric for me, but some of it contains great wisdom. I believe my prescription would be shared by Berrigan himself: forget this book. You might do better to consult our guru and God and silence directly. Prison is the perfect monastery. The wilderness is good too.
“In any case, we are never to be taken seriously; never to become the occasion of rebirth, renunciation of wealth, conversion of heart. We are never invited to be heard from; we never count for much. This is the sentence, passed in absentia. It is the reduction of the living to the remote acre of the dead.”
July 18, 2024
THE THOUGHTS OF FR. BERRIGAN WHILE HE WAS IN HIDING
Daniel J. Berrigan, (born 1921) is an American Catholic priest, peace activist, and poet. He and his brother, Philip, were for a time on the FBI'S "Ten Most Wanted Fugitives" list for their involvement in antiwar protests during the Vietnam war. He has written many other books, such as 'To Dwell in Peace: An Autobiography,' 'The Kings and Their Gods: The Pathology of Power,' etc.
This book is a journal written while Berrigan and his brother were in hiding from the FBI. He begins the April 1970 entry, "I start these notes quite literally on the run... I walk down the streets like a shadow or cardboard man..." (Pg. 1)
He recalls, "I will remember how the nine of us stood up in the court some two years ago, straight and in black (we impeccable clerics, knowing what we were about, playing to the hilt a game whose rules dictated the plunging of that weapon into us---to the hilt)." (Pg. 23) Later, he stated that he had been "cut up rather severely" in court for calling then-Defense Secretary Robert McNamara a "war criminal." (Pg. 85-96)
He remembers Thomas Merton writing him about one year before his death, "with his own mix of the playful and grotesquerie," stating that "I am already dead, only they haven't discovered it yet. When they do, they will undoubtedly bury me with honors; for the present, I go around with all the business of the living, playing a part. But everything is gone." (Pg. 158)
Fr. Berrigan's often-poetic reflections (he called poetry "the primary inevitable response to tyranny" on pg. 7) are still of interest---even though the immediate political events that inspired many of them are long-past.
Daniel J. Berrigan, (born 1921) is an American Catholic priest, peace activist, and poet. He and his brother, Philip, were for a time on the FBI'S "Ten Most Wanted Fugitives" list for their involvement in antiwar protests during the Vietnam war. He has written many other books, such as 'To Dwell in Peace: An Autobiography,' 'The Kings and Their Gods: The Pathology of Power,' etc.
This book is a journal written while Berrigan and his brother were in hiding from the FBI. He begins the April 1970 entry, "I start these notes quite literally on the run... I walk down the streets like a shadow or cardboard man..." (Pg. 1)
He recalls, "I will remember how the nine of us stood up in the court some two years ago, straight and in black (we impeccable clerics, knowing what we were about, playing to the hilt a game whose rules dictated the plunging of that weapon into us---to the hilt)." (Pg. 23) Later, he stated that he had been "cut up rather severely" in court for calling then-Defense Secretary Robert McNamara a "war criminal." (Pg. 85-96)
He remembers Thomas Merton writing him about one year before his death, "with his own mix of the playful and grotesquerie," stating that "I am already dead, only they haven't discovered it yet. When they do, they will undoubtedly bury me with honors; for the present, I go around with all the business of the living, playing a part. But everything is gone." (Pg. 158)
Fr. Berrigan's often-poetic reflections (he called poetry "the primary inevitable response to tyranny" on pg. 7) are still of interest---even though the immediate political events that inspired many of them are long-past.
October 14, 2024
My Bible.
January 9, 2026
This is a reprint of a book the great Fr Daniel Berrigan SJ wrote while on the run from the FBI after he burnt draft cards at Catonsville with eight others, including his brother, Philip. It was first published in the 1970s. Berrigan knew that he would be captured at some stage. His fellow activists were already in prison for their part in the action. Stories abound of Daniel Berrigan in people's attics, cupboards, and so forth, during this period on the run. His exact reasons for absconding to live underground, knowing that the law would catch up with him, are unclear; possibly, it was to spread the word. It is known that he participated in various public meetings and workshops during this period, as well as pursuing his writing.
Berrigan was a man with a highly poetic, prophetic sensibility. This fact, combined with a literary style that was particularly prevalent in the 1960s (beat-influenced, heavy with rich imagery, highly satirical, stream of consciousness), means that those who seriously want to learn about Berrigan's thought from scratch might want to start somewhere else. This is the work of a man on the run, jotting down his thoughts on the times in notebooks as he was hiding, always looking over his shoulder. Its non-linear style reflects this reality. One of its chapters is titled 'By Night I Went Out by the Back Window While the FBI Was Fumbling at the Front Door.' The reader can probably take it that this was what was happening even as the chapter was being written, or perhaps the day before.
Berrigan's mystical side is on display here, with St. John of the Cross one of the main touchpoints for the book. 'The night darkens the spirit but only to illuminate it afterward' is the first line of a pretty sublime poem articulating the vision of John of the Cross as Berrigan saw it, and one suspects, also the spiritual path Berrigan knew that he had embarked upon by engaging in the Catonsville 9 action. For this was all occurring in the reds-under-the-bed era when those who opposed militarism were, in a blanket way, deemed 'commies', 'troublemakers', and 'anti-American', even as they were, among other goals, trying to prevent young Americans from being brought home from Vietnam in bodybags.
It is clear from the book that one of the things that troubles Berrigan the most is the sacralization of the State, or what theologian William T. Cavanaugh refers to as the migration of the holy. This is the way nation-states appropriate Christian liturgy and symbols as a way to copperfasten the loyalty of citizenry to projects that aren't necessarily in line with Christianity. The language of blood sacrifice being used by the founders of the Irish Republic counts as another example of this (sadly); it's not only superpowers that deploy this tactic. It's profoundly anti-Christian, but goes undetected by many.
Berrigan writes: 'In the nation’s capital, the rite was enacted with singular reverence and splendor. The chief priest presided, bearing the national flag through the square on a silken pillow. Accompanied by the President and attended by the Joint Chiefs of Staff, his eminence, Priest XXIX, passed into the great nave of the National Cathedral and advanced alone to the high altar, where he draped the outspread flag over the Exalted Cross. The ceremony closed with the chanting, by massed choir and congregation of the national anthem, “Blindly Believe.”'
Berrigan's motivations are not the desire to let the young smoke pot or to offer unconditional support to the hippie movement. He is not that easily dismissed. The Berrigans and their co-defendants had more profound intentions than this, which related to what they regarded as a grotesque misrepresentation of Church and Christianity, for which Berrigan in fact here, partially at least, blames certain Enligtenment thinkers (as with Cavanaugh). It's clear that he regards the liturgies of state as a form of occultism.
This is deep writing that provides a great insight into Berrigan's thought processes at the time when he was finding his rhythm as an activist. It's a difficult read in some ways, at times heavily laden with metaphor in a way that is frustrating. In the name of honesty, I will say that there is one chapter that extends a metaphor about a fish tank and a dead cat that irritated me greatly. I would be one of those people who thinks the period of the beats is best left behind, and when it produced good poetry (as in Ginsberg's Howl and everything by Bob Dylan insofar as he is influenced by them), this tended to be by accident. It took me decades to identify this as my position on the beats, but that is how life goes. It is a long process of getting to know oneself authentically. Nobody writing should try to emulate this style today: it belongs in the 1960s. But in the overall sense, this book rewards effort put in just to get some insight into a highly formative period of Berrigan's life and times, as well as read some textual gems that illuminate his profound prophetic spirituality.
Berrigan was a man with a highly poetic, prophetic sensibility. This fact, combined with a literary style that was particularly prevalent in the 1960s (beat-influenced, heavy with rich imagery, highly satirical, stream of consciousness), means that those who seriously want to learn about Berrigan's thought from scratch might want to start somewhere else. This is the work of a man on the run, jotting down his thoughts on the times in notebooks as he was hiding, always looking over his shoulder. Its non-linear style reflects this reality. One of its chapters is titled 'By Night I Went Out by the Back Window While the FBI Was Fumbling at the Front Door.' The reader can probably take it that this was what was happening even as the chapter was being written, or perhaps the day before.
Berrigan's mystical side is on display here, with St. John of the Cross one of the main touchpoints for the book. 'The night darkens the spirit but only to illuminate it afterward' is the first line of a pretty sublime poem articulating the vision of John of the Cross as Berrigan saw it, and one suspects, also the spiritual path Berrigan knew that he had embarked upon by engaging in the Catonsville 9 action. For this was all occurring in the reds-under-the-bed era when those who opposed militarism were, in a blanket way, deemed 'commies', 'troublemakers', and 'anti-American', even as they were, among other goals, trying to prevent young Americans from being brought home from Vietnam in bodybags.
It is clear from the book that one of the things that troubles Berrigan the most is the sacralization of the State, or what theologian William T. Cavanaugh refers to as the migration of the holy. This is the way nation-states appropriate Christian liturgy and symbols as a way to copperfasten the loyalty of citizenry to projects that aren't necessarily in line with Christianity. The language of blood sacrifice being used by the founders of the Irish Republic counts as another example of this (sadly); it's not only superpowers that deploy this tactic. It's profoundly anti-Christian, but goes undetected by many.
Berrigan writes: 'In the nation’s capital, the rite was enacted with singular reverence and splendor. The chief priest presided, bearing the national flag through the square on a silken pillow. Accompanied by the President and attended by the Joint Chiefs of Staff, his eminence, Priest XXIX, passed into the great nave of the National Cathedral and advanced alone to the high altar, where he draped the outspread flag over the Exalted Cross. The ceremony closed with the chanting, by massed choir and congregation of the national anthem, “Blindly Believe.”'
Berrigan's motivations are not the desire to let the young smoke pot or to offer unconditional support to the hippie movement. He is not that easily dismissed. The Berrigans and their co-defendants had more profound intentions than this, which related to what they regarded as a grotesque misrepresentation of Church and Christianity, for which Berrigan in fact here, partially at least, blames certain Enligtenment thinkers (as with Cavanaugh). It's clear that he regards the liturgies of state as a form of occultism.
This is deep writing that provides a great insight into Berrigan's thought processes at the time when he was finding his rhythm as an activist. It's a difficult read in some ways, at times heavily laden with metaphor in a way that is frustrating. In the name of honesty, I will say that there is one chapter that extends a metaphor about a fish tank and a dead cat that irritated me greatly. I would be one of those people who thinks the period of the beats is best left behind, and when it produced good poetry (as in Ginsberg's Howl and everything by Bob Dylan insofar as he is influenced by them), this tended to be by accident. It took me decades to identify this as my position on the beats, but that is how life goes. It is a long process of getting to know oneself authentically. Nobody writing should try to emulate this style today: it belongs in the 1960s. But in the overall sense, this book rewards effort put in just to get some insight into a highly formative period of Berrigan's life and times, as well as read some textual gems that illuminate his profound prophetic spirituality.
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